Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Stephenie Meyer. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Thursday
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He draws her into his arms with a sigh of relief, and allows a few more tears to fall. "I was so worried. I was scared you wouldn't come," he mumbles into her hair.
She almost tells him not to worry, but stops herself. Her jangling nerves and pounding heart tell her there is something to worry about. She struggles to remember what it is. She buries her face in his neck, gripping him tightly around the waist. She slides her right leg between his. She simply cannot get close enough to him. She is terrified, but can't remember why. "I'm afraid, Jacob," she whispers, but in his arms her frantic heartbeat begins to slow.
"I know, honey. I know. But we're here now. I've got you."
The statement triggers something in the back of her brain. "But for how long, Jake? How long do we have?"
He frowns and clutches her closely. She's right. Their time is limited, but he doesn't know why. "Something's really wrong, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but I can't remember what it is."
He huffs out a breath. "Me neither. Everything's fuzzy. What's the last thing you remember?"
She lets go enough to roll onto her back and look up at the ceiling as she tries to recall anything useful. He props his head up on his right hand, wraps his left arm over her shoulder, and tosses his left leg over hers. He needs to be as close to her as she does to him. "Just walking through the door until now. Just the last few minutes." She looks at him. "Everything's clear in here with you, Jake, but outside..."
"What's outside?" He prompts.
"Cold. It's cold outside. But I'm warm in here with you. And nothing makes sense out there."
He wants to help her remember. "Okay, well, you remember the door, right? Tell me about the door."
"It's just my bedroom door."
"Is that all? What's on the other side?" They both look at it with apprehension.
"I don't know, Jake, but I don't think I want to go out there." She grips his arm with both her hands, willing him not to let go, clutching at him like a life raft.
He frowns in concentration, staring at it as if he could see through it if only he tried hard enough. "Yeah. You're right. It's not safe out there."
"But it's safe in here, Jake. I can feel it."
He nods. "Okay, so it's safe in here, but it's dangerous out there, and it's freezing. Do you remember anything else, honey? Anything at all?"
Only one thing flashes in her mind. The little red house. Safety. "Your house. I remember your house. It's always where I come to find you, Jake. But the door isn't always the same, and the room isn't always the same."
Jacob knows exactly what she means. He recalls them with perfect clarity. "My bedroom, you mean." He looks around him. "Because this one is yours, right?"
She nods eagerly. "And one other room. It has dingy panelling on the walls, and an ugly carpet, and almost no furniture."
He laughs. "But a really big bed!"
She grins at him. "We made thorough use of the bed." Then she runs her fingers through his hair and pulls him down to kiss him, and they lose themselves in the soft, sweet touch of lips. He doesn't want it to end, not ever, but there are warning bells clanging in his mind. They can't stay here. He can't remember why, but they won't be able to stay, and they need to talk. Talking it out with Bella helps him remember.
He reluctantly pulls away, and she pouts at him. He runs his thumb along her full lower lip before kissing her on the forehead. "I think we need to figure this out, honey. But all I really want to do is kiss you. You know that." His eyes darken and his voice falls to a husky register. "Kiss you everywhere. Taste your skin." He tips his head down to lean his forehead against hers, and his eyes close. He whispers, "Caress your body with my lips. My hands. My tongue." Her heart speeds up at his words.
But suddenly he flops onto his back next to her. "But we're getting somewhere. I know we are. It's important. Because every other time we've been here together, you go away again, and I don't know when you're coming back." His chest constricts thinking about it. "Do you remember? I came to see you once, right here in this room."
She nods. A vividly detailed set of memories opens in her mind. It is one of the first things she remembers. She was lying in this very bed when she woke up to the feeling of his tongue tracing circles in the back of her knee. He spent the rest of the night using his hands, his lips, and his tongue to bring her pleasure, until she was ripped forcibly away. "It was wonderful, Jake. It was amazing, and then..."
"And then you were gone." He tugs her so she lies fully on top of him. He squeezes her tightly, willing her not to disappear.
She raises her head up to look at him. "You came to see me that time. Not the other way around."
"Mm Hmm."
"How did you get in?" she asks. Does he find the little red house, too? But that doesn't make sense. The little red house is his house, not hers.
"The window. I climbed in the window."
"Your house, or mine?"
"Yours, Bells. I climbed in your bedroom window." They both look at it. The curtains are drawn. No light filters in from the other side. They both get a very bad feeling about what is on the other side.
At the same moment, they both say, "Let's look."
"Jinx!" He yells, breaking the tension. It is safe in here, and it's okay to joke. It's okay to be happy in here. And she makes him very, very happy.
She pretends to frown at him. "Does that mean you get to hit me now?"
He smiles gently at her. "Never, Bells. But maybe I'll ask for a favor later." His smile turns into a lascivious grin. In retaliation, she uses her position to tickle him in the ribs. He squirms and laughs beneath her. "Wait, wait..." he wheezes in between fits of laughter. "Why is this... Why is this..." She switches to tickling his sensitive clavicles, and he bucks and thrashes his head. He snorts involuntarily and then laughs even harder. "Why... is this... happening... to me? I... I won... the Jinx!"
"Because I'm the boss, Jake," she smirks down at him.
He grins. "You are the boss," and then he catches her wrists with his hands and brings her down for a kiss. He knows they are supposed to be figuring out what's going on, but he just can't resist her. She is soft and warm and tempting. She sighs against him and relaxes into his arms. Then he feels her the fingers of her right hand crawling along his flank, preparing to tickle him again. He grabs her hand with his and pulls it down against his thigh. "Nuh uh." He mumbles against her lips. She giggles and tries to tickle the part of his leg she can reach around his hand. "Hey now, stop that," he laughs.
"But it's fun!" she protests.
He concedes, "It is fun. You're right." Without warning, he flips them over so he is on top straddling her hips, and he swiftly pins her arms above her head with his left hand. He grins at her. "Now it's my turn to have fun." And then she is the one dissolving into helpless gales of laughter as his teasing fingers assault her flank. She twists and turns but can't get away, but he doesn't torture her for long. He stops and runs his right hand up along her side and grasps each of her hands in his on the pillow above them. She keeps giggling for a bit, and then she just looks up at him. The smile on his face is the sexy, sultry one reserved only for her.
He doesn't want the moment to end. He examines her closely. Her long, wavy hair spread out beneath her. Her soft, pink lips, curved upward in a little smile. Her deep brown eyes twinkling with mischief. The barely visible freckles on her skin. He cannot remember a time when he wasn't in love with Bella Swan. And here she is, gazing up at him with love in her eyes. Flashes of memories start to surface, ones they made outside this room. Outside their little bubble. Bella getting out of her truck and laughing as he ran toward her. Grinning at him, seated on a crate in his garage, watching him work on their motorcycles. Her as a little girl walking on the sand in front of him on First Beach, turning to him to hand him a pretty shell with a happy grin on her face. Even younger, sitting in a mud puddle with him, smearing a glob of dirt on his arm and giggling.
He wants to make more of those memories. And for that, they need to figure out what keeps ripping them apart. He rubs his nose against hers with little eskimo kisses. He brushes his lips lightly against her cheeks, and drops a tiny kiss on her chin. He scoots down and lays his head on her breast. "You're so soft. So warm," he murmurs.
It triggers something in the back of her mind. Soft skin versus hard. Warm flesh versus hard. She turns her head to look at their joined hands, his dark fingers twined with her pale ones, and remembers even paler, sparkling skin. She feels his warm breath washing over her, and remembers cool, oddly sweet smelling breath. She lets go of his left hand and runs her fingers through his thick, soft hair, and remembers tousled bronze hair. "Jacob?" she asks. He lifts his head to look at her, and she meets his warm, dark eyes. And she remembers unnaturally colored golden ones. "I remember something. Someone. Someone dangerous."
He stiffens. He doesn't want to think about it, but he knows he has to. A name slips to the forefront of his consciousness. "Edward," he breathes. She nods. That's right. But neither of them can think of more when they are so comfortable in each other's arms.
He rolls off her, and she steps out of his reach, and goes to the window, but doesn't open the curtain. She has more to say, so he is quiet while she gathers her thoughts.
Looking at the window reminds her of something else. "I remember there were a lot of nights I just waited in your bed, in your room, Jake. And you didn't come. When I looked out your window, I saw a forest. Not your forest. A different one, with a stream." His heart sinks at the thought of her waiting in his bed for him, all alone. "And twice I came outside and I found you."
His leans up to look at her in surprise. He recalls one perfect night when he woke up as his wolf to find her curled against him, sleeping. That night he marked her. He starts to get aroused at the memory, but then realizes what she said. "Twice?"
She nods. "Once I found you sleeping under a weeping willow, fast asleep, as your wolf. I slept too." He has the vaguest memory of running, running far and fast, and dropping of exhaustion under the tree. He tries to unlock the rest of the memory in his brain. Where was he going when he ran? She continues, "What were you doing? Do you remember? All those times I waited for you, and you weren't there."
He stares at the ceiling. He should know this. It's in the recesses of his brain somewhere. He knows it is. He starts talking before he realizes what he is going to say. He sits up and swings his legs to the floor. "You weren't safe then, honey, just like you're not safe now. I was trying to protect you. That's where I was." And as he says it, he knows it is true.
It is starting to make sense now. "It worked for a while, didn't it, Jake? That's why we haven't been back here lately."
He walks over to her and threads his fingers through her hair, cupping her skull with his hands. "It worked. We haven't been back here because we were already together. We didn't need to come here."
"How about tonight, Jake? I came looking for you, I know I did. Where did you come from?"
He frowns again in concentration, and closes his eyes for a moment. "Here, Bells. I was already here."
"Okay. Okay. What were you doing? Before you fell asleep?"
He knows the answer. It is somewhere in his mind. He just can't access any of the details. "I know what I was doing, Bells. I was trying to find you. Trying to find where you go when you disappear." She glances at the closed window again, and he follows her gaze. "Is that where you go?"
She shakes her head. "I just don't know."
He says quietly, "There's something on the other side, isn't there?"
She nods. "I think so. It's not safe on the other side, but we can look without opening the window. Just the shades."
He straightens up. "Allright. I'll look. Stay behind me, honey." He moves so that he shields her body with his own, and reaches out to pull back one curtain, just a couple inches. "Well, that's a let down," He is equal parts frustrated and relieved.
"Hmph." She reaches around to part the curtains all the way. How ridiculous. On the other side are... more curtains. Blood red curtains. "I've seen those before, Jake," she says as she steps around him, pressing her hand to the glass. "Ouch!" She yanks her hand away. "It's cold."
"Frostbite cold?" Jacob asks, reaching a finger out to test the glass. To him it is very cold, but not painful.
"It didn't hurt my hand, Jake. But when I touched it, it burned here and here." She indicates the mark on her shoulder and her breast. They still throb painfully.
He turns her around to examine the mark on her shoulder. "It doesn't look different." He turns her back and lowers the strap of her nightgown just enough to see her other mark. "Not this one, either. Do they still hurt, sweetheart?" He presses his lips to each one, and the painful burn transforms into a pleasant ache. Then he moves her strap back into place.
She looks up at him with wide eyes, and shakes her head. "It hurt until you did that, Jake. Now it's better. You made it better."
He smiles at her gently and kisses her forehead. "Good. I don't want you to hurt. You said you saw those curtains before," he says, indicating the red draping on the other side of the window. "Do you know where?"
One memory is vivid. The other is at the edge of her consciousness, just barely too far away to be grasped. "The last time I waited for you in your bedroom wasn't long ago. I saw those on the other side of your bedroom window as well."
He stands next to her pressing his large hand on the window, testing the temperature and strength. "Is that all?"
She shakes her head. "No, there's something else. Something important. But I can't figure out what it is." She taps her heel in frustration.
"Well, I think the burn was a warning. You definitely shouldn't climb through this window." Bella agrees, but knows Jacob is tempted to go through himself and see what is on the other side. Or rather, who is on the other side. He looks back down at her, finally registering what she is wearing. He fingers the fabric at her waist and examines her. "Hey, honey?"
"Mmm?"
"You look beautiful, sweetheart, but what is this?" He thinks she is gorgeous no matter what, and the garment is pretty, but it doesn't look familiar.
She frowns as she looks down at herself. She had it on the last time she waited for him in his bedroom, that much she recalls, and took it off to wear one of his shirts instead. "It's not mine, or at least, not my choice to put it on." She turns to the mirror. Looking at the negligee makes her want to cover up with more clothes, which is odd, because she knows how much Jacob loves her body, and she doesn't want to hide it from him. But she doesn't like wearing the gown. "I sort of hate it, Jake."
He grins and steps up behind her. "Then take it off, honey." He runs his index finger under the strap and lowers it over one shoulder, and then repeats the motion on the other side.
It triggers a memory. Terror. Someone doing much the same to her, very recently. Her heart drums madly in her chest, and her mouth goes dry. A bathroom mirror. Slate grey tile. Fear.
Jacob can see the anxiety in her expression, and ignores her lovely, half naked form in favor of turning her toward him and tipping her chin up to look at him. "What is it, Bells? Are you okay?"
"I remembered something, Jake."
"Yeah?" From the expression on his face, he probably isn't going to like the answer.
"Edward? You were right, that's his name. He dressed me in this gown. And then he started to undress me, just like you just did. It scared me."
Jacob's voice is a low growl. He wraps his arms protectively around her waist. "He did what? Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me what you remember."
His embrace calms her enough so that she can think. She is safe here with Jacob. Here there is nothing to fear. She takes a deep breath. "A mirror. I remember a mirror."
"Like this one?"
She shakes her head. "No, like in a bathroom."
"What do you remember about the bathroom?" he prompts gently.
She whispers, "We were standing by a great big tub. I could see his reflection out of the corner of my eye."
His heart thrums hard in his chest. "And then?"
He can barely hear her when she speaks. "And then he pushed the straps down, and the gown fell, just like it is now. I could see him staring at me in the mirror."
He squeezes his eyes shut and holds her tight, and tries to remember to breathe. "And then what?" He sounds agonized.
"He left me alone in there," she recalls with some relief.
"Oh, thank god, Bells. Are you okay?"
She nods. "Now that I'm here with you, I am." She wiggles her hips and lets the gown pool around her ankles. She wants him closer. "Make me forget about him, Jake."
He eagerly complies. He wraps one arm under her bottom to sweep her up, and she obligingly locks her legs around his waist. He slides his other arm around her back and buries his hand in her hair, pulling her close for a deep, open-mouthed kiss. God. She takes like heaven. And there is almost nothing between them. Her full breasts are soft against his chest. He can feel her nipples pebbling against his skin. He needs them in his mouth, and she wants him even closer. So he drops her on her bed, swiftly unbuckles his shorts, shoving them down his legs, and falls into her waiting arms.
She is desperate for him. She needs his words, she needs his touch, she needs his love. She needs him to anchor her here in this haven, to keep her safe, to keep her whole. She wants him closer.
She threads her fingers through his hair and grips tightly. He wraps his lips around her right nipple, just below his mark, and suckles deeply. Pleasure shoots through her, and she arches her back into him. He switches to her left breast, and teases it with the tip of his tongue. She yanks him firmly in so that he will increase the pressure, causing him to moan and gently use his teeth. She still wants him closer.
She starts to pant, and he releases her nipple with a little pop, scooting over to lave his mark with the flat of his tongue. She writhes at the sensation, unique and perfect. No one else can do this to her. No one else can make her feel this way. But she still wants him closer.
She tries to pull him higher, but he is too lost in the taste of her flesh. She whimpers a small, "Please..." and gets his attention.
He removes his lips long enough to ask, "What do you need, baby? Anything. You can have anything."
"Don't tease me tonight," she whispers. She needs him closer. She needs him as close as he can be.
So she tugs him up and he settles in between her parted thighs, and she grasps his tight buttocks in her hands, and draws him close. The large head of his engorged cock slides over her clitoris, and he drags his shaft against her. She sucks in a breath of air and holds it as he repeats the motion. She becomes slick against him, and hot. He kisses her deeply and she draws his plump lower lip between her teeth, causing him to hiss. But she still needs him closer.
As he shifts down to drag his cock against her again, she tilts her hips, and he slips inside her with a deep, throaty groan into her mouth. She gasps as he slides in all the way. Perfection. This is what she wanted. His body covering hers, no inch of skin untouched, him buried deep inside her. The heat of his body and the warmth of his love surrounding her, covering her, within her. She holds him still, relishing the sensation of him filling her completely.
Then she makes a mistake. She arches and squirms a bit, letting him know that she's ready for more. So when he pulls out almost all the way, hovering over her and staring her directly in the eye, his lifetime's worth of devotion to her washing over her, she moans his name when he thrusts back into her with a single, smooth motion.
And she is ripped forcibly away from her beloved. She finds herself tumbling over in the large bed, rolling and smashing into one of the bottom posts. Edward crouches at the headboard, glaring at her with a desperate look on his face. His teeth are bared in a grimace, and his eyes are nearly black in dilation. "Why? You are here with me." He flashes across the bed to hover over her. "He isn't here, do you understand? He isn't for you. You were made for me, and I will take you back. I will fix this thing between us, and we can be together."
She thinks he is going to lean in to kiss her. The thought of his cold mouth on hers, his rock hard body crushing her, when all she wants is the warmth of her Jacob, is terrifying. She wants to go back. But she doesn't know how.
"Edward?" she whispers tentatively. "I think I hurt my back." Which is true. When he threw her off him, and she landed against the post, she struck it hard. He blinks at her in in recognition and moves off her.
"Let me see." He rolls her onto her stomach. She can't decide if this is better or worse. His legs straddle her, seated just below her bottom, and a freezing fingertip traces across her back. "Oh no, love. It's going to bruise." His hand slides around to grip her by the waist, his fingers slid under the edges of her dress.
If it were Jacob behind her, Bella knows what would happen next from this position. He would tug up her hips, pull up her dress, lower his zipper, and slam his cock into her. She can tell that Edward is thinking about much the same thing from the tightening of his fingers on her waist. His voice is hard behind her. "Can I break his spell? He used his body to claim you. Perhaps I will do the same."
But something distracts him. Just as she feels his hand shift to start rucking up the negligee, a breeze comes out of nowhere, causing the bed's drapery to billow inward, followed by the harsh rush of wind that sounds almost like a scream. The air is warm. It envelops her. The warmth settles around her, and the curtains still for long seconds as Edward freezes above her. Then the blood red curtains of the bed start to sway and swirl with another howl of wind spinning around them.
Edward jumps off her in alarm, leaping several feet away to stand in the middle of the room. "Where are you?" he demands. "Show yourself!"
Just as soon as it started, it ends, the curtains settling down and the warmth suddenly gone. But not before she hears the faintest whisper of her name in her ear.
She crawls to the edge of the bed and peeks out between the parted curtains. Edward rushes out onto the balcony, searching for the source of the mysterious wind. He vaults over the rail and drops to the ground. Bella goes to see what he is doing, but in the few seconds it takes her to get to the edge, he has already circled the house twice. She hears the snick of the locks on the bedroom door, and he appears behind her and spins her to face him, gripping her arm in his one good hand. It aches, and she remembers that he bruised her in the exact same spot the night before.
"You startled me, Edward," she begins.
He laughs harshly. "I startled you? What was that, Bella?"
She has no real answer to give him, although she has her suspicions. Her Jacob was here, for just a moment. She tries to keep the smile off her face. "I don't know."
"It must have been him, Bella. How did he do it?"
She breathes, "I have no idea."
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Jacob falls face down into Bella's pillow with a groan and slams his fist into the mattress in frustration. He wants to scream. Because now he understands. It wasn't just a dream. What just happened was no fantasy built up by his subconscious, no wish fulfillment taking over his sleeping form. They were together. Genuinely together. He had her in his arms, had her flesh underneath his lips, her breath washing over his skin. They were together. And he foolishly let his hormones take over him, and she was ripped away.
His mind reels. But what happened after? He recalls each moment with precise clarity. He had her, right here in this bed, her arms around his neck and her bright eyes looking right into his. He was right in the middle of a perfect moment, the blissful sensations of her body enveloping his length, when she disappeared. He had frantically leapt out of bed and paced the room for several long, agonizing seconds, before he heard a voice. The voice of his mortal enemy, followed swiftly by the soft sound of his beloved, her voice small and tinged with fear. And worst of all, saying she was hurt.
The voices came from the window. From her bedroom window with curtains on both sides. He leaned forward to press his ear against the freezing glass, and his suspicions were confirmed. Bella was on the other side of the window. He opened it eagerly and slipped inside.
Oh, God. There she was. Pressed down into a mattress with terror in her eyes. Edward Cullen was seated on her thighs, his one good hand sliding over her skin, pulling up her dress, dark lust written plainly on his face. Jacob screamed, rushing forward to tackle Edward, but slipped right through him and through the curtains. He ended up startled, hovering in the middle of the bedroom, feet not touching the floor.
Jacob took in his surroundings in a matter of seconds. An ostentatious bedroom dominated by a four poster bed. A fireplace, two leather chairs with a table between, endtables, a bookshelf, and three interior doors. The clock read 8:46. And one wall covered almost entirely with curtains.
He looked back toward the bed and took a tentative step toward it. His feet still didn't touch anything. He moved his hand forward to part the curtains, but all that happened was that he realized he could see through his hand, which melted through the fabric rather than moving it anywhere. He pulled his hand back in alarm.
But his beloved was on the other side, trapped with a monster. He dove forward with another bellow, right through the drapery. He found himself whirling in a circle right above Bella until Edward leapt out of the bed. He moved to Bella, calling out her name.
And suddenly ended up here, falling back into this bed. He turns his head to look at her clock. 8:49.
He has to go talk to his father. Maybe Billy will know what's going on. He hears voices downstairs, and pulls himself out of her bed to find them.
He emerges into the kitchen. Billy and Charlie still sit at the table, pouring over the Cullens' papers, while Embry stands by the wall. He has pinned a large map there and already has several locations marked with more pins. Embry turns to him. "Couldn't sleep, huh?"
"Had a dream. Which is probably an important dream. What's that?" he asks, gesturing to the map.
Charlie looks up. "Kid's a natural. The red pins are the cabin and the two parking lots you guys found. The green ones are properties owned by the Cullens. Although we think it's unlikely that he took Bella to one of these houses, it can't hurt to have the information. We're going through these," he points to the papers, "to look for social security numbers. I figure maybe he might have opened up new credit cards that the family doesn't know about in order to pay for a new place, or maybe a new car. Unless he just stole one."
A knock at the front door interrupts them. Charlie goes to answer, and Jacob looks over his shoulder and is surprised to see Rosalie Cullen. She hands over a thick manila envelope. "Both gas stations, the liquor store, both banks, and the convenience stores had them. There are externals at the gas stations and the banks." She pulls a USB drive out of her pocket and hands it to Charlie. "If you get the files on these, we've got some pretty good equipment at the house. I can look at them for you. It'll probably take me a fraction of the time it would you. And I've faxed the paperwork to Citibank and Chase. Hopefully we'll get the statements soon. Do you have any more for me?"
"Yeah, thanks." Charlie goes back into the kitchen and scribbles on a sheet of paper.
Jacob gawks at Rosalie blatantly, and she quirks an eyebrow at him. "Um, thank you?"
Her features soften. "No one should suffer this fate. I'll do whatever I can to help you stop him."
"I thought you hated Bella." Normally he wouldn't ask, but he really needs to know if he can trust her.
"I did. When I thought she was throwing away everything important. When I saw her making the biggest mistake of her life. An irreversible one. But she came to her senses. I still think she's an idiot, don't get me wrong, but she shouldn't pay for that with her life."
"Okay, well, like I said, thanks. How's Brady?"
"The little pup? He'll be fine. Your brother-in-law took good care of him until we could get to him."
Jacob winces, "He's not my brother-in-law."
She shrugs. "Well, whoever he is. And Carlisle was able to give him some pain medication before he reset his legs. We learned a lot about how to give wolves medicine from you."
"I'm glad Brady didn't have to suffer through quite as much. We heal fast, but..."
"But breaking a bone hurts either way, and breaking two, or ten, or twenty..." She smirks at him. "...is still less painful than having your hand ripped permanently off your body. Have you burned it yet?"
He shakes his head. "No, I don't want to piss him off while he still has Bella."
"Makes sense."
"And Seth?"
"No change. But it's early yet. Give it time."
He is curious about this member of the Cullen family. Carlisle has helped a great deal, and Alice and Esme seem to have left a great deal of information, but this one is providing the most concrete assistance in their search. "You seemed to know what you were doing last night."
"I've had some some training."
"Ever put it to use before?"
"Well, no."
Jacob shrugs. "I don't get it. All that time to fill, and you guys just keep going to high school?"
She looks away. "Not exactly my choice. Emmett and I get away from time to time. Time for another change, maybe."
Charlie re-emerges from the kitchen. "Thanks for doing this. I'll get you the videos as soon as I have them."
She takes the sheet of paper and disappears.
"What was all that about?"
Charlie opens the envelope. "Subpoenas for the security cameras around the lots where Cullen's trail ended. If we get lucky, maybe we can pick up his getaway car. And it sounds like she already requested the statements for his credit cards that the family knew about." Charlie pinches his nose. "But I doubt he was stupid enough to use them. I wish I had a way to narrow down where he might have taken her. They could be on a plane halfway around the world by now."
Jacob contributes, "I think I can help with that." It gets the attention of everyone in the room. "Something we didn't explain last night. I can see Bella in my dreams." Charlie looks at him quizzically, clearly wondering how that could possibly matter. "But they aren't just dreams. She remembers them too. We're actually together."
Charlie's mouth drops open. He would stop to take the time to be amazed at this statement, but he simply doesn't have the luxury. His entire world has tilted on its axis in the last twelve hours. "And?" he prompts.
"I know she's alive, or at least she was when I woke up. I saw the inside of the room she's in. Unfortunately I didn't see much else. For some reason, when we meet in the dreams, we can't remember much that happens when we're awake. But when we wake up, we remember everything from the dreams."
Realization starts to dawn on Charlie. "So you can talk to her, but not just ask her where she is."
"Right." Jacob nods. "But if she's dreaming, it means she's alive, because vamps don't sleep."
Billy mutters under his breath, "Sleep would be really handy right about now," and rubs his face in his hands.
Jacob pours his father another cup of coffee. "But they have stopped. She's in a bedroom somewhere. I saw the clock in the room right before I woke up. It was the same time as our time. So she's in our time zone, for one."
"And she could only have gotten so far between last night and this morning if they stayed in a car."
"I think they were stopped for at least a little while."
Charlie pulls one of the chairs out for Jacob. "Sit down, son, and tell me exactly what's going on."
But before he can sit down, they hear another car pull into the driveway, and a knock at the front door. He goes to open it. Paul and Rachel are on the other side with a large pink box. Rachel holds it out. "You guys hungry? We went to the bakery and picked up some food." Paul has some icing on his upper lip. "I tried to stop him, but he already started raiding it."
Paul protests, "I bought them! So it's okay if I eat one!"
Rachel rolls her eyes. "Or three."
"There are plenty left!"
Jacob's stomach rumbles loudly, and Embry takes the box and puts it on the kitchen counter. "Thanks, guys. We're starving." Embry immediately stuffs a donut in his mouth, while Jacob grabs a ham and cheese scone for Billy, hands Charlie a blueberry muffin, and then eats two bear claws in under one minute.
Rachel puts on a fresh pot of coffee and pulls up a chair, and hands Billy a little bag containing his medicine and his glucometer. "Do you want me to drive you home, Dad?"
"In a bit, dear."
She looks at her father with concern. "You've got to be dragging by now."
Billy grasps his mug of coffee and lifts it up. "This helps. Plus, your brother was just about to tell us something. Go ahead, son."
Jacob swallows his second donut and turns to Charlie. "A few weeks ago, after I got hurt, I started having really vivid dreams about Bella." Paul snorts, so Jacob glares at him, resulting in absolutely no response. Then Rachel glares at him, and he looks contrite. Jacob continues. "I thought they were just dreams. I came over one day to try to convince her one more time not to marry Edward, or at least not to let him turn her. She sent me away. I took a run along the beach, and that's when I picked up that vampire's trail."
"Bree?" Charlie asks.
"Yeah, Bree. I chased her up to Canada. I got a motel room in Vancouver while I searched for her. Bella would show up in my dreams, but at the time I still thought that was all they were." There is no way he is telling Charlie Swan about the marking or the lovemaking, so he glosses past a lot of it. "But I talked to Leah one night, and she told me Bella was dreaming about me too. And they sounded like the same dream. Just like last night, though, when we're in the dream, we can't really remember much of our days. Everything else is really fuzzy. But when we wake up, the dreams are clear. Really easy to remember. Anyway, by the time I got home, we both had a feeling that they were real somehow, that we were really together. She had dumped Cullen by then, which you know. Since I've been back, the dreams have stopped. Until this morning."
Charlie frowns. "Why do you think that is?"
Billy clears his throat. "We have a theory that Jacob and Bella didn't need to seek each other out in the spirit plane since they had found one another in this one. So what happened in the dream this morning?"
"In the dream, I was lying in her bed sleeping, which is what I was actually doing at the time. She woke me up. It's not the first time that has happened. She often finds me asleep. Come to think of it, she normally finds me. Not the other way around."
Embry interrupts, "Have you ever gone to her? Or does she always find you?"
"I did go to her once. I remember."
Billy asks, "How did you find her?"
Jacob answers, "I looked for her in her bedroom. And that's usually how she finds me. She comes to our house. And if I'm not there, she stays anyway."
Embry asks, "What, like if you're awake?"
"I think so. So this morning, when she found me, I was sleeping in her bed, so that's where she found me."
Charlie interrupts, "So how do you know she's still in our time zone if she found you in her own bedroom?"
"We started there, but didn't stay there. So we talked for a while. We were trying to figure out what was going on. We both knew something was wrong, but had a really hard time figuring out what it was. Eventually we remembered Edward. Not everything, just that he was dangerous and threatening her. But then she was gone. All if a sudden. Just gone. It's happened before. I think if she gets abruptly woken up."
Rachel asks, "But you found her?"
Jacob nods. "I figured out she was on the other side of the window. I just opened it and climbed through, and then I was with her again. But this time was different. It never happened before. I could see everything, but not touch anything. I was floating in the room."
Billy is awed. "What did you do?"
"It didn't last long. I tried to scream. All that happened was that I moved the air. The curtains moved like there was a gust of wind. Edward knew I was there, and he yelled at me. I couldn't touch anything, though. And I knew he couldn't see me. Neither could she. It was so weird!"
"How was she?" Charlie is clearly terrified of his answer.
Jacob doesn't want to scare him, but he deserves the truth. He keeps it short. "Scared. Had a bruise on her arm from him grabbing her too tight. I wasn't there for long, though. One second I was there, next I was awake upstairs."
"Describe what you saw, Jake." He does so. Charlie jots down notes as he speaks, and afterward spends a few minutes scribbling calculations on his sheet. Then he goes to the map on the wall and pencils a curving line across the map.
Embry catches on. "That's the farthest you think they could have made it?"
Charlie nods. "Now we just have to narrow it down."
Billy turns to his son, "I think we should try something, son. We had better get back to the Rez. I need to talk to Old Quil." He turns back to Charlie. "We're going to see if we can get some more information."
"What, by sending Jake to sleep? Seems like the best way to get in touch with her."
"Something like that," Billy replies mysteriously. "What's your next stop?"
"I'm going to go get the surveillance videos from those parking lots."
Paul pipes up, "I'll drive you."
Charlie responds, "You don't need to do that."
Paul frowns at him. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?" Charlie shakes his head. "And are you planning on getting any sleep today?"
"Well, no," he admits.
Rachel asks, "How do you think that's going to work, exactly? You're just going to stay awake until you either find her or collapse?"
Charlie frowns right back at them. "I can't just sit here. Every moment that goes by is a moment that bastard could hurt her."
Rachel interrupts, "Just let him drive you. Sleep in the car, or don't, but this way you won't fall asleep at the wheel and crash into some poor bystander. How far are you going?"
"Port Townsend," Charlie reluctantly admits.
She looks triumphant. "See, that's two hours there and another two back. Just let him drive. You crash on the way there and back, and then you can be awake when you get back to actually accomplish something."
"Fine," Charlie looks grumpy.
Billy laughs at him. "You know better than to argue with one of the Black women, Charlie!"
Embry pipes up, "There's one more thing we should try." Everyone looks at him. "Jake, you should ask the Cullens if the room you saw belongs in any of those houses." He points at their other properties, two of which are within the radius that Charlie specified. As Charlie gathers up his things, Jacob calls Alice Cullen, but they don't recognize his description.
"Oh well, it was worth a shot," he sighs. "Emb, can you coordinate the patrol schedule for the next couple days? We don't need three wolves on anymore, but I'd definitely leave one to do a wide sweep. LaPush and Forks in one big loop." Embry nods, and the group splits up.
Jacob and Embry drive the Clearwaters' car back to LaPush, while Rachel takes Billy.
Embry asks, "What does Billy want Old Quil for?"
Jacob has an idea, but it isn't very well formed. "I think he wants me to go on a vision quest."
Embry looks confused. "They used to do those to find their spirit animals. You've already got yours."
"But before the spirit animals, before the wolves, the Spirit Chiefs could send their spirits out. Away from their bodies. I think that's what I'm supposed to do. I think that's what happened this morning, only I had no idea what I was doing."
Embry doesn't know what to say, but it makes sense. He leaves Jacob at the Ateara household and goes to drop off Sue's car.
When Jacob enters the house, Old Quil is alone. "Your old man said you would be here. Come in. He'll be joining us any minute now."
Jacob sits on the family's old, comfortable couch. "Did he say why I'm here?"
Old Quil nods and sits across from him. "You want to learn how to send your spirit out from your body."
Jacob nods. "Like the old spirit chiefs."
"That hasn't been done in centuries," Old Quil warns.
"I think I did it this morning. But I have no idea how." He proceeds to tell Old Quil what happened in his dream. "I have to find her. I could just go back to sleep and wait, and I think she'd show up eventually. But neither of us can remember anything. I think I need to try while I'm awake."
Old Quil stares out his living room window until Jacob wonders if he was even listening. Then, in a quiet, serious voice, he says, "Maybe you should try some weed." Jacob blinks at him until he realizes Old Quil is teasing him, and then they both end up laughing, which is how Billy finds them when he rolls in the front door.
"What's going on in here?" he looks at them in confusion.
Old Quil grins. "Just lightening the mood."
"Did Jake tell you what he needs to do?" Old Quil nods. "Can you help? I'm not familiar with any level of detail in the legends that would tell him how to begin."
"I read something in an old journal once. It was a little vague, but I think it's a beginning. Give me a few minutes. I need to gather some things. When do you want to do this?"
Jacob looks at his father. "As soon as possible."
"Meet me at the trailhead off Second Beach in an hour." He disappears into his kitchen, and calls out, "And bring your sister, some drinking water, and a sleeping bag."
Jacob does as he is told. He and Rachel arrive moments before Old Quil, who hands Jacob a huge backpack and a two folding chairs. He looks at it quizzically. "What's this for?"
"You don't expect your sister and an old man to sit on the ground, do you? That's your job."
Rachel laughs at him, overburdened with all their things. "You look like a pack animal, Jake! You're a donkey, not a wolf!"
Old Quil sets off down the trail, setting a pace neither of them expect from a man of his age. The trail winds slowly toward the beach, but halfway there Old Quil takes an unfamiliar turn. He points out an older trail that has fallen into disrepair. Jacob had seen this before on patrol, and had wondered if it had any significance. "Lead the way, young man." Jacob does his best to make the way passable for his companions. Eventually they reach a small clearing. An old firepit sits in the middle. "Make a fire, son." Jacob sets down the pack and chairs, and gathers firewood while Old Quil pulls a variety of items out from his pack. But the old man stops him once he pulls out his lighter. "Not that way, boy. Do it the old way."
Jacob looks crestfallen, but proceeds to make another fireboard. At least this time he knows what he's doing. It takes him half the time as before. Old Quil pours a thick, brown liquid out if a thermos and hands it to him. "All of it," he prompts. The mixture is foul and bitter, and Jacob nearly gags. It sits warmly in his stomach. "Lie down near the fire," he indicates with his hand. Jacob spreads out his sleeping bag and stretches out on top. Old Quil tosses some dry herbs on the fire, and a thin plume of blue smoke rises into the air.
Jacob lies on his back. He sees an eagle circling high in the air above him.
"Do you see it, son?" Old Quil asks.
"Yes," Jacob replies.
"I want you to focus on that bird. I want you to imagine that you are that bird. I want you to lift yourself in the air. Keep your eyes open." He begins an unfamiliar chant that Jacob has never heard before, and leans over Jacob with a paintbrush and a cup of black paint. Rachel looks on in fascination as he begins an intricate pattern on Jacob's skin. He pauses his painting. The tone of the chant changes, and they recognize the legend of Kaheleha in their native tongue. Not long into the story, though, he pauses to return to the unfamiliar chant, and adds to the pattern on Jacob's skin.
The sun rises in the sky as Old Quil chants. The pattern continues. Jacob keeps his focus on the bird above. He listens to the story of his ancestor, and he understands. Finally, Old Quil tosses another handful of the herbs onto the fire. Jacob feels himself rise with the plume of smoke.
And then he is high in the air, circling the eagle. It twists away and turns east, riding the wind. He follows. Old Quil's voice fades into the distance. He feels the brush of wind as he flies past, but it does not chill him. The clouds break above him, and for a moment the sun's rays reflect off a sparkling river below. The eagle cries out ahead of him, and he looks toward it. It has dipped low in its flight. He sees a huge brown wolf beneath it. It is one of his brothers. Jared has paused in his run to look up at the eagle's cry. Someday he would like to pause to find out if his wolf brothers can hear him in this form. But the eagle is already moving swiftly along, and he must follow. He looks down often, seeing his home and his land as he has never seen it before. It is beautiful.
The eagle dips low again in its path. It turns, spins in a current of air, and dives down. He should have expected this. It lands gracefully on the Swan house. Jacob lowers himself toward the structure. He knows what he needs to do. He hovers above the roof and thanks the eagle in his own tongue. It tips its head to the side and takes off in flight. He watches after it for several moments, and then he drops right down through the ceiling, not pausing in the attic, stopping himself short in her room.
He looks to the window. The shades are drawn and closed. He leans forward through them, and passes directly through the plate glass window. He lands on the other side, tumbling into the ornate bedroom. He spies his beloved lying on the brocade duvet.
His heart breaks. She is crying silent tears, her eyes squeezed shut tightly. Jacob can hear her heart pounding with fear in her chest. Her wrists are restrained with thick industrial cord, each one pulled toward one of the bedposts. An ugly bruise mars her otherwise lovely right arm. The hem of her skirt lies tangled around her thighs. Her tormentor sits in one of the leather armchairs by the fire. Edward faces her, sitting still as a statue, face frozen in a grimace, eyes locked on her form.
Jacob lowers his incorporeal form onto hers. He cannot loose her bonds, cannot strangle her captor, cannot lift her up and bear her away. But he does what he can. He kisses her gently with his spectral lips.
Her eyes pop open in surprise, and she looks up, directly into his eyes.