- Follows the events of Twilight: 7

- Angst! Love me some Hattie Angst.

- Sort of got away from me, to be honest. The story decided it was time for more of Hattie's backstory. I don't regret it, but I just thought I'd warn you.

14.

That was the thing about heartache. You never could erase it. You carried it with you, always. ―Kass Morgan

Eric found Hattie before she could reach the bonfire. "Hattie! Where have you been?"

She jerked at the sound of his voice. She'd been trudging along the beach slowly, her eyes scanning the shore unseeingly. For some reason she couldn't get the feel of the native boy's aura out of her head—the image of the ghostly wolf overlaid atop him.

"I took a walk," she responded. It was not untrue, so the words came easily, smoothly to her.

Eric seemed pleased. She could see him drawing connections between her leaving Jacob to go take a walk…alone. She didn't like the look his smug face wore, though.

"I just needed some air, Eric. Don't look that far into it," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. He was friendly—not in the honest-to-goodness sweet way that Mike usually was, but Eric was nice enough. He just didn't seem to understand the boundary between nice and creepy.

"Yeah, yeah," he told her, delighted at her defensiveness. "Anyways, we're packing up. It's going to rain soon."

"Alright, I'm coming…" Hattie sighed.

She didn't regret running off after that boy—she only wished it hadn't cut into her already sparse time with Jacob. She tried to remind herself there was nothing stopping her from coming to see him, and that soon they would be headed to the dance together.

Hattie tried to picture Jacob in a suit, which was nearly impossible. He seemed to relish in the freedom of nakedness, if his current half-dressed state was anything to go by.

Most of the natives had dispersed by the time they reached the bonfire ring. Hattie could see that most of their group was already making the trek up toward their vehicles.

Hattie spied Jacob and Bella on the far side of the bonfire ring, but Beau was nowhere to be found. She headed over to them, noting the whiter-than-usual look on Bella's face with worry.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, stopping at Bella's side. She examined her cousin's face concernedly.

Jacob was chuckling. "I just told her a scary story. Must've spooked her a little bit."

Bella muttered an agreement. The faraway look in her eyes made Hattie curious as to what the story could've been about, but she didn't ask.

"I guess we're getting ready to leave," Hattie informed the duo contritely. "Eric just about jumped me when I was walking up. He seems to think we've had a row."

"A what?" Jacob questioned, then looked around as if trying to figure out who Eric was.

"You know, a row? Emm…like we've bickered."

"Ohh…" Jacob laughed. "It's funny, I'm so used to you and your accent that I keep forgetting the UK is another culture."

A drop of rain landed on Hattie's cheek.

"I guess it's time to go," she sighed.

Jacob rocked on his heels, looking down. After a moment, he asked, bashfully, "So…when I get the Rabbit up and running…"

"You should come see me in Forks," Hattie finished. She felt guilty that she hadn't made enough time for him recently. "And next time Charlie comes down to visit Billy, I will try to come too."

His too-white grin stretched across his teeth. Hattie was once again caught in the intensity of his eyes. "And I'll see you at the dance."

"And I'll see you at the dance," Hattie concurred.

Hattie shivered a little as she and Bella tramped across the rocks toward the parking lot. A few more drops of rain were beginning to fall, and she had, stupidly, forgotten a jacket. Beau was helping the others load everything into the back of the Suburban. She stuck by him closely, so they could get a seat together.

Bella seemed to have the same idea and somehow, they managed to sit together in the back of Mike's car. Hattie sat between them, perched half on each of their laps. It was a much more pleasant (though still slightly awkward) experience than this morning.

Bella used Hattie's shoulder as a headrest, closing her eyes against the world. Whatever scary story Jacob had told her had really taken its toll.

—x—

Bella and Hattie both went straight to the loft once they got home, leaving Beau to make their excuses to Charlie. To be fair, it was getting late and they'd had a long, exciting day at the beach. Perhaps he would simply think they were sun-drunk with the type of post-sun sleepiness even caffeine couldn't cure.

She helped Hattie into her sleep shirt and they said goodnight, though Bella wasn't entirely sure she could sleep now. When Hattie padded off to bed, Bella dug out her earbuds and jammed them into her phone, scrolling through her music. She needed something that would take her mind off all of the legends Jacob had told her while Hattie was gone.

Bella found a playlist Phil had shared with her—it was an album from one of his favorite bands, but they used a little too much bass and shrieking for her tastes. She stuffed her headphones into her ears, laying down on her bed. Then she hit the play button, turning the volume up until it hurt her ears.

Listening to music at high volume may cause hearing loss, her phone prompted, but she turned the volume up higher still.

So she laid there, using the loud music to short-circuit her brain. She listened to the album on repeat, concentrating carefully on the music. She tried to understand the lyrics, unravel the drum patterns. Soon she knew all of the words to the choruses. Surprisingly, once Bella got past the noise, she actually liked the band.

And it worked. The shattering beats made it impossible for her to think—which was the whole purpose of the exercise. She listened to the album again and again until, finally, she fell asleep.

Bella opened her eyes onto a familiar, dread-inducing scene. She was, in some part of her consciousness, aware that she was dreaming—but it didn't stop the blind panic she felt.

She was in the Forks High School parking lot. Tyler's van was smashed around the edge of Hattie's hatchback. Bella had relived this scene many times over the last seven weeks—stress seemed to trigger it. But tonight, it was different.

There were no other cars in the parking lot. Not even the tan one that Edward had braced himself against—just Hattie's hatchback and the van.

Tyler's body was in the van, but he was unmoving. Hattie lay brokenly on the icy pavement, Edward's shaking form hovering over her. Everything seemed to be in slow motion—Bella wandered slowly toward Tyler, her footsteps echoing eerily in the empty parking lot.

She screamed when she saw his body. He had to be dead. His jugular was ripped out, vacant eyes staring at the roof of his vehicle.

"Run, Bella, you have to run!" a sudden voice yelled. She turned, her face still horrified. Jacob was there, his face frightened.

"This way, Bella!" Beau's voice called, coming from the other side of the vacant parking lot. Bella could only barely see him in the distance.

"Why?" Bella asked. She was desperate now to get to Hattie—her prone form, Edward's shaking shoulders.

But Jacob let go of her hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the icy pavement. He twitched on the ground and Bella watched in fascinated horror.

"Jacob!" she screamed. But he was gone—in his place was a large red-brown wolf with black eyes. The wolf faced away from her, pointing toward the scene of the accident. The hair on his shoulders was bristled, low growls issuing from behind exposed fangs.

"Bella, run!" Beau's voice called again, but she didn't turn. The sun was coming out from behind the clouds and Edward was turning.

His skin glowed faintly. He faced her, blood around his mouth and down his chest—his eyes were black, dangerous. He held out one hand to beckon her toward him.

The wolf at her feet growled, darting around the duo to place himself protectively in front of Hattie. Edward's eyes followed him, but he didn't turn.

Bella took a single step forward, toward Edward. He smiled then, and his teeth were sharp, pointed.

"Trust me," he purred.

She took another step.

The wolf launched himself across the space between Hattie and the vampire, fangs aiming for the throat.

"No!" Bella screamed, wrenching herself upright out of her bed.

The sudden movement knocked her phone off the bed, pulling the headphones out of the jack. Loud music suddenly blared throughout the room and Bella scrambled to turn it off, scrubbing her hand across her face wearily.

Her light was still on, and she was still fully dressed—shoes and all. She clicked the screen of her phone on, a bit disoriented. It was five-thirty in the morning. She groaned, leaning forward to pull her shoes off her aching feet.

She was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. Bella wiggled out of her jeans, kicking them off slowly. She tried to slow her heartbeat down, truly tried to slip back into relaxation. Even as she finger combed the plaits out of her hair she already knew it wouldn't work.

Even if she wasn't wide awake, even if she was on the brink of sleep…Her brain had conjured up the images she'd desperately tried to avoid.

She'd just have to face them, then.

It wasn't Jacob's fault—after Hattie and Beau had both gone off to do their own things, she had coaxed the stories out of him. The tall boy from the previous night—she learned his name was Sam—had dredged up a curiosity Bella hadn't been able to shake. The way he said "The Cullens don't come here" had sounded more like "The Cullens can't come here."

So, when Hattie had run off to 'take a breather' or whatever she'd claimed later, and the other boys had cajoled Beau (who they assumed was buff and strong due to his massive height) into helping them pack up, Bella struck. She was kind of embarrassed about it now. She'd obviously never come between Hattie and any of her love interests, but Bella would admit she'd done some flirting.

Jacob had seen right through it, of course. She could tell by the amused lilt of his lips, as if Bella was doing something extraordinarily entertaining. Luckily, he was too nice to call her on it.

Bella kicked her jeans into the hamper. She was trying to decide how to go about what she wanted to do. After a moment of hesitation, she realized she'd need to wait until either Hattie or Beau woke up—the only computers in the Swan residence resided in their bedrooms. With that in mind, Bella decided it was time to start getting ready for the day.

Bella gathered up her bathroom bag and made her way toward the bathroom, stopping only when she saw that Hattie's door was cracked. Her cousin usually slept with it closed, so seeing it ajar gave Bella sudden flashbacks to her horrendous dream. She was overwhelmed with the compulsive need to check that Hattie was still breathing.

Hattie was still sleeping when Bella peeked in on her. Her cousin was not really a cute sleeper. (Bella had her doubts that anyone was a cute sleeper, honestly.) She tossed and turned and mumbled in her sleep. Usually all her blankets ended up on the floor—today was no exception. The duvet and most of the pillows were strewn across the room and Hattie was tangled up in the remaining sheet, spread-eagle in the center of the bed.

But her chest raised and lowered with each breath, and Bella's panic was delayed for the minute.

She dragged out her shower as long as possible—shampooing twice, took extra caution whilst shaving, leaving her conditioner in for an extra minute. She waddled back to her room afterward, wrapped in a fluffy white towel, to get dressed.

Bella dressed herself, blow-dried and re-braided her hair, brushed her teeth, made her bed, cleaned her room. She took great care to extend the duration of each activity, being extra thorough, but Hattie was still not awake by the time she was done at seven.

With a sigh, Bella slipped down the stairs and went to get herself some cereal in the house. The ground was cold on her bare feet, still chilled from the night, so she tiptoed until she got in the door.

As she made her bowl of cereal, she noted that Charlie's cruiser wasn't in the driveway. He must be fishing again.

Bella was just finishing her breakfast, scrolling idly through her phone, when Hattie came in. The girl was a mess: clearly, she'd managed to undress herself, take a shower, and tried to redress herself. She'd only gotten so far, though—her leggings were on perfectly, as were her slippers, but the oversized t-shirt she'd chosen to put on was askew. Only her good arm was in the sleeve, she'd just pulled the shirt over the one in the cast. And she wasn't wearing a bra.

Bella couldn't help it—she gave a startled laugh, much to Hattie's displeasure.

"I tried," the small girl insisted with frustration. "Give me a little credit."

"Another week or two and you'll be out of the cast," Bella laughed, helping her right her shirt. Even with Bella's two arms it was difficult to get Hattie's arm in the sleeve—the cast was completely immobile—but eventually they managed to fix it.

"What're you doing up so early?" Hattie grumbled, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Charlie must've made it before he left. "It's Sunday."

"Bad dreams," Bella shuddered.

"Was Jacob's story really that scary?" Hattie insisted, eyebrows drawing together.

Bella didn't know how much of it she wanted to share. Some of the secrets, the ones about the Cullens, weren't hers to give away. Finally, she settled that a lie via omission wasn't nearly as bad as a blatant lie.

"He just told me some of the Quileute stories. About how legend has it they're descended from wolves," Bella explained hesitantly. "It was my…imagination…that truly scared me."

Hattie surprised Bella by laughing a little. "I can't believe you found that scary. I love the Quileute legends. Do you think if I marry Jacob he'll be able to tell me the more secret ones?"

Bella and Hattie both giggled at the proclamation. She was relieved Hattie hadn't looked too far into her answer—she really didn't like lying to her cousin-come-sister.

"Anyways," Bella said, still coming down from their giggle fit. "Do you think I could borrow your computer today?"

"Oh," Hattie smiled. "Sure, any time. It's right on my desk."

After breakfast, which Bella dragged out as long as possible in an attempt to prolong the inevitable, they ventured back to the loft together. Bella lounged on Hattie's bed whilst her cousin sat at the desk, writing idly in a huge, ancient-looking journal.

Hattie's laptop was a shiny, metallic baby pink. Bella had only seen it once in the entire time she'd been in Forks, when Hattie was typing up an essay after school one day. Even as Bella booted it up, she had the strange realization that Hattie didn't use it often.

This was confirmed when Hattie looked up at her through the mirror over her desk, grinning. "I don't think I've opened that thing in a month."

It wasn't exactly a secret that Hattie had money—and a lot of it. The girl never asked Charlie for anything, yet was always wearing nice, brand-name clothing. She had waved off Tyler's parents when they tried to pay for accident related expenses: the tow truck, medical bills, even offering to buy her a new car since their son had totaled hers. But Hattie had just smiled and shook her head. Bella had the feeling that Aunt Lily and Uncle James were pretty well-off when they died, and had left Hattie set for at least the foreseeable future.

But Hattie was pretty modest about it; it wasn't often she splurged on material things for herself. She didn't flaunt her money with ostentatious things, like Bella felt the Cullens did.

Bella frowned at the thought and finally tried to log into the computer, only to see it was password locked.

"Hey, Hattie. What's the password?" she called.

Hattie glanced up, taking the end of her pen out of her mouth. Her eyes were suddenly heavy. "Oh…it's, um…Cecelia. C-E-C-E-L-I-A."

Her tone was reserved. She wouldn't quite meet Bella's eyes. Bella tried to wrack her brain, but the name wasn't familiar—if Hattie had mentioned her, it had been only briefly.

"Awesome, that worked. Who's Cecelia?" she asked innocently, already pulling up Google.

She assumed the answer would be something like—a best friend, a celebrity, a relative's name. She could think of a couple reasons why Hattie would look so downtrodden at the name, but the way the girl was acting wasn't normal. She looked like she was grieving, or perhaps reliving battle.

It was a testament to the fact that there were still many things about Hattie that the Swans didn't know.

Finally, still not looking at Bella, Hattie replied in that soft, broken voice. "Cecelia is the little sister of one of my friends."

"You must love her," Bella commented. She typed in one word, slowly, to the search engine. Vampire.

Hattie shrugged. Bella's eyes flickered up to meet hers—they were emerald green, looking at Bella without seeing her. Bella's brows pulled together.

"Yeah, I guess I do," Hattie agreed. She sounded like she wanted to say more.

"Hattie?" Bella prompted. "What is it?"

Her cousin turned back to face the enormous journal, using her thumb to ruffle the pages absent mindedly. Even through the mirror, she didn't meet Bella's eyes again.

"It's complicated."

"I'm sure I can keep up," Bella responded. Hattie was hunched over the desk now. "If you want to talk about it, I mean."

"I don't know how," Hattie admitted. "There's—secrets that aren't mine to give. Cecelia's story wouldn't make sense without them."

Bella lowered the lid of the laptop, staring at Hattie's hunched back. She was intrigued, yet worried. More secrets. The Cullens' secrets. Hattie's secrets. Bella was beginning to realize that there were so many more layers to the world than she had ever realized.

She yearned to know Hattie's secrets, but her cousin was obviously traumatized. She wouldn't push…for now.

"So…tell me the basics," Bella said, finally. "It doesn't matter if it doesn't make sense. It just matters that you can tell me anything, if you need to."

Hattie was silent for long enough that she wondered if her cousin had even heard her. Then, still silent as a mouse, the girl came over to the bedside table and rifled through its drawer.

She handed Bella a picture.

It was a young boy. He had messy brown hair, but where the low summer sun touched, it shone deep red. He wasn't looking at the camera, his dark eyes were on the infant in his arms, a look of utter adoration on his face. The baby was asleep. She had the slightly thin, pink look about her that many newborns do, her skin sort of blotchy. Her pink swaddle was unraveled, revealing a soft pink onesie—her little leg was stuck in the air, toes spread wide.

On the back of the picture, in a messy script, read Cedric & Cecelia. It was dated nearly six years ago.

Bella handed the picture back, wondering what she should say about it, but before she could open her mouth she caught sight of Hattie. She was staring at the picture with watery eyes, something like regret painted across her face.

"Cedric was one of my closest friends," Hattie told her, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "It's hard to explain…this picture was from the happiest day of my life. My people…god, it's really had to explain."

"It's okay," Bella soothed, blinking quickly. Her mind was trying to piece things together—but she didn't have any matching pieces. The Cedric wasand the my people, it was all mind boggling to her.

"It's not," Hattie argued bitterly. "Cecelia's birth was a big deal, that's all I can really say about it. When she was born she lit up our world—not just Cedric's, but mine, all our friends, all the adults in our life. I was eleven, Cedric was fourteen. This picture was taken at the celebration of her birth. It was the last time I saw Cedric before he died."

Bella jolted with shock. Of all the things she'd been expecting to hear, that was not one of them. And the story still didn't solve the question—if Cedric had been Hattie's friend, why was Cecelia her password?

She opened her mouth to give out platitudes, but realized they wouldn't help any. Instead, she murmured, "What happened?"

Hattie gave a short, hollow laugh. It didn't sound right coming from her usually cheerful cousin. Bella had often, privately, thought that Hattie was like a baby bird—all wild feathers and happy, chirpy tones. This tone didn't match that narrative at all.

"Nobody really knows," she said, turning her back on Bella again. "We have our suspicions. He was seventeen."

"And Cecelia—"

"I met Cecelia one time nearly six years ago," Hattie's ragged monotone might as well have been a shout. "I held her in my arms and I thought, if something so precious can be born into this hellish world, then clearly it can't be so hellish after all. I hold on to that picture because it is a reminder of the Hattie I had been then, the Hattie who held a newborn baby and thought, of all the families she could've been born to, of all the people her light could've touched—some deity decided to give her to us.

"Bella, I think about Cecelia to this day. Does she look like him? Is she in school? Does she know how many people love her? I received word in January that Cedric's father, Cecelia's father, was killed. I have nightmares every night about whose death I'll get news of next. With each passing day without word from my friends back home, my panic grows. I haven't heard from anybody in seven weeks. But still, somehow, I hold that picture in my hands and I think of Cecelia's sweet face and I know that any world that could give me her is worth holding on hope for."

Hattie's shoulders heaved breathlessly when she finished her rant. Tears flowed freely down her face and Bella was shocked. She honestly had never been more speechless in her entire life.

"Hattie, I'm so…" confused? Sorry? Either would work in this situation, but neither felt appropriate. She wondered why Hattie's friends hadn't contacted her in so long. She wondered why they were dying. She wondered what Hattie had gone through to get her into this state, to make her think so poorly of the world.

She just

wondered.

"I told you it was complicated," Hattie said, wiping her eyes again. Slowly she seemed to regain her composure, though she didn't let go of the picture of Cecelia and Cedric. "There are so many things you don't know."

Was it strange that Bella thought she sounded just a little bit like Edward, then? Cryptic and self-loathing, but with a longing to unburden herself.

"I would listen," Bella promised. "If you wanted me to."

"It's not a matter of want," Hattie whispered, and went back to her journal.

Afterward, it took Bella an embarrassingly long time to compose herself. She stared at the screen of Hattie's laptop, the colorful Google logo, purposely not looking in her cousin's direction. Occasionally, though, in her peripheral, she saw the tremors running through Hattie's shoulders.

It's not a matter of want, Bella thought, bewildered, shaken. What sort of secret was Hattie hiding?

Sighing, listening to the idle scratch of Hattie's pen on paper, Bella went back to her previous issue. She needed to focus on one thing at a time.

At least she was reasonably sure that Hattie was human, Bella thought, staring at the query she'd never finished. Vampire?

It felt ridiculous. Her incognito tab stared at her wickedly as she hit enter, seeming to relish the fact that Bella was too ashamed to leave a trail.

There were, of course, tens of millions of results.

The first result was Wikipedia, not an entirely reliable source but at least it was a start. The website touted that a vampire was an undead being from folklore which fed on the "vital force" (usually blood) of the living. Apparently, the first appearance of the English word vampire was in the 1700s, written then as vampyre.

But vampires existed for millennia in myths and legends. There was the Albanian shtriga, which fed on the blood of infants—Bella crossed that off the list immediately. The Greek had vrykolakas, the Romanians had strigoi.

There were movies and TV shows and books dedicated to the subject. The Encyclopedia Britannica, History Channel, and National Geographic all had articles about it.

Then she found a promising site—Vampires A-Z. Its simplistic, academic layout made it load hilariously quickly, even on Charlie's weak Wi-Fi connection. Most of the images the site used were broken, perhaps having expired from whatever domain they were once hosted on. Even the ads were old, outdated.

Still—it was a useful resource for Bella. It contained an alphabetical listing of all the different myths of vampires held throughout the world.

She read through the descriptions of each myth carefully, thoroughly—even if most were inane, insane, or completely improbable, they were interesting nonetheless. She tried to look for anything that sounded remotely familiar, let alone plausible. Most of the vampire myths centered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they also seemed like constructs created to explain away the high mortality rates of young children, and to give men an excuse for infidelity.

Only three entries really caught Bella's attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the Stregoni benefici.

About the latter there was only one brief sentence.

Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy to all evil vampires.

It was a relief, that one small entry: the one myth among hundreds that claimed the existence of good vampires.

Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Jacob's stories or Bella's own observations. She'd made a little catalogue in her mind as she'd read and carefully compared it to each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale skin, eyes that shift color; and then Jacob's criteria: blood-drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor.

And there was another problem, one Bella remembered from the small amount of vampire-related media she had consumed, which was backed up by today's reading—vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to cinders. They slept in coffins all day and only came out at night.

Aggravated, Bella exited the browser, closing the laptop with a small click. She felt so embarrassed. Here she was, on a Sunday, sitting in Hattie's bed researching vampires on a baby-pink laptop. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Maybe it was stress, maybe hitting her head truly had knocked the sense out of her.

She needed to get out of the house, but there was nowhere she wanted to go that didn't include a three-day drive. She stormed out of Hattie's room, scarcely calling out 'thank you' as she left.

After she'd pulled on her boots and her raincoat, Bella stomped out the garage door. She felt like a child, ignoring her truck sullenly as she started east on foot, angling across the yard toward the ever-encroaching forest. Beau was in the kitchen window, looking like he'd just woken up. When he noticed her, he waved, but she didn't respond.

It didn't take long until she was deep enough for the house and the road to be invisible. The only sound was the squish of damp earth under her feet, the sudden cries of jays filtering down through the trees.

Bella followed the narrow trail into the forest for a long time, losing herself in her anger. It was obvious nobody used the trail frequently—there were few neighbors, and Bella couldn't exactly picture Charlie out here. Perhaps Hattie, with her love of all things athletic…but since the accident, even she hadn't been out here. Fallen trees—some young, some as big around as Bella—littered the path. One path was completely blocked by the trunk of a huge tree, and Bella split off onto a fork in the trail to avoid climbing over it.

Her anger slowly ebbed, and when it did, Bella slowed. She mucked about, slowly, until she spotted another fallen tree resting against the trunk of one of its neighbors. This one must've fallen more recently, as it wasn't completely covered in the carpet of moss everything else was. Bella used it as a bench, tucking her rain jacket between herself and the damp bark, leaning against the tree behind her.

She had overestimated herself—this was the wrong place to come when her nerves were jacked up, her brain short-circuiting. It was too deep, too dark…too alike to all of the scary stories she'd been reading. Now that there was no longer the sound of her soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. Even the birds were quiet. The ferns stood higher than her head now that she was seated, and she knew that someone could walk by on the path, three feet away, and never see her.

Here in the trees, it was much easier for her to believe the absurdities that had embarrassed her before. Nothing had changed in the forest for thousands of years, and all the myths and legends of a hundred different lands seemed much more likely in the green haze than they had in Hattie's clear-cut bedroom.

It began to rain, rustling the leaves and the grass. Bella focused on the sound as she sat there, contemplating.

There were two vital questions that she needed to answer, unwilling though she were.

First, she had to decide if what Jacob had said about the Cullens could possibly be true.

Immediately her mind responded with a resounding negative. It was silly—and morbid—to believe such ridiculous notions. But what, then? There was no rational explanation for how she was alive at that very moment. She listed again in her head the things she'd witnessed: the impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from gold to black, the inhuman beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more—small things that registered slowly—how they seemed to eat with forced, mechanical movements…as if it were an obligation rather than a need. The disturbing grace with which they moved. And the way he sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases better fit to the style of a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-century classroom.

He had skipped class the day they'd done blood typing. He hadn't said no to the beach trip until he knew where they were going. He seemed to know what everyone was thinking…except her family.

Bella even remembered the car accident—Hattie's blood. His family had been there one second and gone the next. Edward had been staring at the blood on his hands, shaking intensely, like he was…strained. Even his eyes, previously golden, had gone pitch black…

He told her he was the villain, he was dangerous.

Could the Cullens be vampires?

Well, they were something. Something outside the possibility of rational justification was taking place in front of her incredulous eyes. Whether it was Jacob's cold ones or Bella's own superhero theory, Edward Cullen was not…human. He was something more.

So, the answer was—maybe. That would have to do for now.

And, the most important question of all. What would she do if it were true?

If Edward was a vampire—she could hardly make herself think the words—then what would she do? The thought of involving Hattie or even Beau crossed her mind, but she tossed it out. Bella couldn't even believe herself; anyone else, even those closest to her, would have her committed.

There were only two options that seemed practical. The first was to take his advice: be smart, avoid him as much as possible. Cancel their plans, go back to ignoring each other as much as possible. Tell him to leave her alone—and mean it.

She was gripped with the sudden agony of despair as she considered that alternative. Her mind rejected the pain, quickly skipping to the next option.

Bella could act exactly as she had been. After all, if Edward was something…sinister, he'd done nothing to hurt her so far. In fact, she wouldn't even be alive if he hadn't acted so quickly. So quickly, she thought to herself, it could have been sheer reflexes. But if it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could it be? Her mind spun around in answerless circles.

There was one thing Bella was sure of, if she was sure of anything. The dark Edward in her dreams had been a manifestation of her fear of the words Jacob had spoken, and not Edward himself. Even so, when she'd screamed out in terror at the werewolf's lunge, it wasn't fear of the wolf that brought the cry of 'no' to her lips. It was the fear that Edward would be harmed—even as he called to her with Tyler's blood running down his shirt, she'd feared for him.

So, that was her answer then. Bella didn't know if it had ever been a choice—she was already in too deep. Now that she knew—if she knew—there was nothing to be done about her frightening secret.

Because, when she thought of him—of his voice, of his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality—she wanted nothing more than to be with him right that moment. Even if…no, she couldn't think it. Not there, alone in the darkening forest.

Bella rose, shivering, from her place of concealment, following the path. Her loft beckoned her with promises of warmth and dry socks, and the company of others to settle her unease.

Happy Saturday! I just felt like posting another chapter, since I started working on chapter 40. If you have any comments or questions, leave a review! I try to answer every review. :)