Author's Note: I know what you're thinking… another chapter? So soon? I told you, summer time is writing time. And lately I have been in a real writing groove. I've already even made it several pages in to the NEXT chapter. Things are getting very interesting in La Push, and the problems are just getting started. A lot of character foreshadowing in this chapter to look out for, and as always PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW.

Eliza

When Dad called Claire out of her room to "come down for dinner" three times and there was still no response, he checked her room and finally found out what I already knew. Claire was gone.

In the short time I'd lived there, I had seen Dad angry several times, but his face had never turned as red as it was when he found Claire's bedroom vacant.

Of course she'd snuck off to see Quil. "I have to catch up on my summer reading" was her excuse. I mean, really? Claire loved to read! Her summer reading was completed in May, the same week it was assigned! Not like Dad knew that. Dad really knew nothing about Claire. (Or me, for that matter…) If he did, he would have realized that Claire was going to see Quil with or without his permission.

But since he knew close to nothing about his rebellious daughter, he was surprised and mad as hell. "When she gets home she is grounded and that man is going to be hearing from my lawyer," he said furiously while we ate dinner.

"Don't you think you're overreacting a little? Yeah, she snuck out, that's bad. But just to see Quil," I told him.

"Just to see Quil?" Dad's eyebrows lifted in disbelief, "Eliza, that is the worst possible thing she could be doing. Quil is a pervert and a monster."

I swallowed hard. I'd just gotten my father back, and talking back to him wasn't the best way to rebuild our relationship. But— "Well, I'm not going to comment on the first part, but… Sam was a werewolf. Are you calling my uncle a monster? Your brother-in-law?"

"No, and besides Eliza, he's not your real uncle anyways."

"So? You're not my real father, either," I countered boldly. He slammed his water glass on the table.

"I'm just saying," I added quickly, defensively, "That I have known Sam and Quil most of my life, and neither of them have ever harmed me. They've always stood by me, and werewolf or not, they are as much a part of my family as you are."

"Eliza, when I left… I want you to know it had nothing to do with you. I wanted to bring you with me, but your mother—"

"Look, I'd rather not talk about that, okay?" I interrupted, staring down at my plate. I didn't look back on the past… ever. It was too painful. Too much loss.

"I am curious," he said, "Is your defensiveness towards the werewolves because of that boy?"

I whipped my head up instantly. "What boy?"

"Back at Sam and Emily's… Claire mentioned you were kissing a boy double your age," he looked like he was trying really hard to swallow his anger. "And I'm assuming he is a… he's one of them."

Shit, and I so hoped he'd forgotten that. "Oh, uh… that's just Brady," I mumbled.

"Mmhm, and tell me about this 'Just Brady' so I know who I'm killing."

"Really Dad, it's not like that at all. Yes, Brady is a werewolf, and he's double my age, and yeah, he likes me, but I don't like him. At all. He kissed me, it's not like I wanted him to. We don't talk," I reassured him.

"Let's keep it that way," Dad frowned. Why is he talking to me like I can't handle myself? Claire's not around so he has to suffocate the daughter who actually likes him?

"Jesus, Dad! Just because you don't trust Claire doesn't mean you can't trust me!" I stared distastefully at my plate. "I'm full, if you need me I'll be in my room." I didn't bother to put my plate in the dishwasher.

He didn't stop me.

Twenty minutes later I heard the front door open and immediately dashed to the top of the stairs. Drama was always exciting.

Quil had to be the ballsiest guy in the world, because he had the audacity to actually bring Claire home… to the fucking front door!

Dad was at the door already, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "Where the hell have you been?" He inquired demandingly.

"Dad, something has happened," Claire's voice was urgent.

"You bet something has happened, you just got grounded for two weeks."

"Anthony, this is serious," Quil's said, all business.

"You're damn right this is serious, you're lucky I haven't called the cops. Don't test me or I still will."

"Dad!" Claire yelled. "Shut up and listen for a second! Someone's been murdered."

That got his attention, and mine too. "Who?" He asked, his voice softening slightly.

"We don't know who the victim is, but we know how he died. Vampire."

Anthony was silent for a moment. "This is all very terrible, but doesn't give you an excuse for lying to my face and disobeying me. Claire, go to your room."

"Sir, your daughter could be in danger," Quil said, stepping towards Dad.

"She's in danger every moment she spends with you. Get out of my house," he spat.

"She's not just any vampire, Anthony. She's a very, very, dangerous breed and we have reason to believe that Claire and Eliza are in danger."

"My daughters are fine as long as they are far away from you."

"No, they're not!" Quil argued in frustration.

"Who is it?" I asked, making my presence known to my family and sauntering down the stairs.

"Eliza, go back to your room," Dad commanded through his teeth.

"No," I snapped, "I deserve to know what's going on and if you don't listen, then I will." I breezed right past my father to stand beside Claire, who looked very, very surprised.

"Her name is Lilah," Claire told me quietly. "She was one of the hybrids last month. She was supposed to kill us, but she disappeared, and now she's back. The pack is worried she may be trying to finish her job."

Dad looked at us intently, "You're saying that you think a vampire is out to get you, just the two of you?"

"The five of us," Claire said coldly. "Me, Eliza, and three other girls who are close with the pack."

"Why?"

"To get to us," Quil said, his voice full of self-loathing.

"Oh I see, so this is all your fault, shocker."

"Dad!" Claire hissed, grabbing on to Quil's hand.

"He's right," Quil mumbled.

"Damn right I am," Dad said. "Say goodbye, Claire, it's time for Quil to leave."

"You can't keep doing this, Dad!"

"I can if you don't want me to get him arrested. Your ex-boyfriend can stay if he wants me to call the police and tell them he kidnapped you."

"He didn't kidnap me. I went to see him! I love Quil and if you think you can break us up you're delusional!" She yelled, grabbing my wrist and dragging me up the stairs with her.

"Hey, grabby much!" I complained.

"Out of my house," I heard Dad say to Quil behind me, "Now."

"What's more important to you? Keeping her away from me or keeping her alive?"

"Can't you see? Keeping her away from you is what keeps her alive, now get out and never come back."

Claire pulled me all the way down the hall and into her room, locking the door behind us. "I can't believe him!" She shrieked angrily, starting to pace back and forth.

"Why am I in here?"

"Because I don't want to be alone right now and I'd rather pluck out my eyes than be anywhere near Dad."

"If it makes you feel any better, I think he's warming up to Quil."

"What the hell makes you say that?" Claire demanded.

"Well, he didn't shoot him," I told her.

"No, he only told him to leave and never come back and threatened to call the cops again. I agree, real progress," her voice was thick with sarcasm.

"But he didn't. Isn't that what matters?"

"No, what matters is that Quil is about to go hunting after a psychotic super-vampire who can probably kill werewolves at the nod of a head or some messed up shit like that! He doesn't even understand how dangerous it is!"

This was getting into "girl-talk" territory, an area in which I was very uncomfortable. Anything about love, worry, relationships, or insecurities was way out of my knowledge base. And lovely-dovey couples made me want to gag.

"I'm, uh… sure he'll be fine," I reassured her awkwardly.

"That bitch already killed someone. It was just an innocent man, a hiker. You know, she even left a note. She wrote 'hello' on a piece of paper and stuck it to his forehead with a knife! What kind of sick twisted person does that?" Claire was getting into hysterical mode, which I was even less comfortable with. Additionally, the image of a dead man in the forest with a note stabbed in his forehead didn't exactly fill me with a warm feeling.

"She's not a person, Claire. She's a vampire. This just goes to show you they aren't all like Annie and the Cullens."

"I don't think she's trying to kill us, though. She would have already. But last month… she didn't even try. She never showed up."

"Maybe she did. Maybe she heard Nahuel there and assumed he was going to kill us himself?" I suggested.

Claire shook her head. "I don't know, this all just feels wrong, very wrong. And if anything happens to Quil I won't be able to live with myself."

"They killed five already, what makes you think they can't kill one more?"

"Because there is obviously a reason why this one lived while the others died. She's crafty, I know that much. I just wish I knew her motives."

"If I get killed because of Brady making some vampires think I'm his girlfriend I'm going to be seriously pissed."

Claire just rolled her eyes. "The way your mind works is a mystery to me."

"How so?" I inquired, quirking an eyebrow.

"Here you have a great boy, who does nothing but try to win you over, takes your shit without complaining, and does everything he can to make sure you're okay, and you won't even speak to him. Brady is a great guy, Eliza."

I know. "Well, I'm not the girl for him. The sooner he sees that the better."

"But why?" Claire pressed. "Why don't you like him?"

"Because," I answered sharply, leaving the room.

Because flowers are only beautiful until you pick them…

Because every dog is sweet until it bites you.

Because when it comes down to it, the only person who won't hurt you is yourself.

And I was done with getting hurt.

Quil

It was early Thursday morning, the night before my first actual day at my first actual job, and I was harshly woken up at four in the morning by the howling of the pack.

A plethora of curse words spilled from my lips as I rolled out of bed and threw open my window. "Time to kill us a bitch," I called out groggily to Mason and Embry, who I also heard getting up.

Where is she? Embry asked as we phased, obviously more alert than I was.

She tried to get in on the north end, Leah informed us. Her, Grayson, and Danny were racing across the forest floor, their heads cocked upward. The bloodsucker was practically flying; jumping rapidly from tree to tree without effort. My heart fell. Northern La Push was where Claire lived, and since her dick father wouldn't let me anywhere near her, I wasn't there to protect her. Claire! Claire! Claire! Claire! My head screamed.

Shut up, I'm going to get a migraine, Quil! You can protect her now by getting your tired ass over here! Danny grumbled. I nodded, knowing he was right, and gained speed. As I ran, I continued to watch the hunt through Danny's eyes. Up at the tops of the trees, the blue-haired demon was one pirouette away from dancing; flipping around and laughing as she launched herself from one massive tree to another. A breeze tickled Danny's skin as a storm began to blow in, and Lilah froze, whipping her head in the direction of the nearby homes.

She smells blood, Jacob realized.

Quick as lightning, the leech began to fly again, this time in the opposite direction, towards La Push.

I don't think so, Brady snarled. He was close by, close enough that I could see him from the corner of my eye. From my peripheral vision, I saw Brady change directions and put himself between Lilah and La Push. The rest of us did the same, forming a line along the border.

No leech is laying a hand on my Claire, I snarled.

Lilah came to a stop once again when she saw the immovable wall of angry werewolf. Despite the fact that we had fourteen wolves and there was only one of her, my stomach was in knots. Claire's house was close, really, really close. Her street was just behind us.

Mason and Brady's thoughts seemed to be in a similar place, Mason worried about Claire and Brady of course worried about Eliza. If I turned around, I could see their house at the end of the street. They didn't even have a gate surrounding their yard.

Lilah looked at us, then the houses, and then at us again. Then she hissed in frustration.

And, for the first time, she spoke. "You may be together tonight, but your strength in numbers routine won't last forever. And I grow stronger." With a flick of her wrist, Brady—who was actively jumping at her tree—went flat on his back. He did not feel pain, but rather absolute stillness, like his body was a rock. "You can't protect all of them. You can't even protect yourselves. And soon enough, you'll see that. " Her voice was cold, calm, and absolutely serious.

She whispered something then, under her breath, so quietly that the only word I heard was a name. A girl's name. "Lorena."

And then… she was gone. Brady regained control of his body and rolled to his feet.

Damn it! He cursed.

Where the hell did she go? Jacob growled.

But no one answered. We were all speechless. Just… speechless.

Claire

"Okay class, to kick off this 'exciting' year of physical education, you are going to educate yourselves in what it means to run," Paul said in his prison warden's voice. He motioned to the football field behind him, "So get your asses on that field and don't stop running until you've completed eight laps."

The entire class groaned. I made eye contact with Mason from the corner of my eye, shooting him a look that said: Has Paul lost his mind?

Probably, Mason's eyes seemed to say in response.

"Uh, Coach. That's two miles," Taylor informed him.

"Very good, Taylor. If this were math, I'd give you an A. But it's gym, so run," Paul could be pretty menacing when he wanted to be. But why he wanted to spend all day teaching teenagers was beyond me…

Taylor just stared at him, clearly confused. "Any day now, children! Chop chop!" Paul bellowed, clapping his hands together. Every student broke into a mad dash for the field, afraid to face the wrath of "Coach Lahote".

I had just reached the field when Mason appeared beside me. "Hey, Claire," he greeted, his breathing completely even. Running was probably a second nature for him, jerk. I certainly wasn't a fan of running. Or any intense physical activity for that matter.

"Let me guess, two miles is nothing for you, right?" I asked.

Mason just laughed.

"Thought so," I said.

"Hey it's not so bad, I'll run with you," he offered.

"You're going to regret saying that," I cautioned, "I'm probably the slowest person in class."

"Slower than Taylor?" Mason inquired, nodding his head in her direction. Taylor Albright's gym clothes would be a tight green tank top and microscopic black shorts. But since she was in "school colors" no one could say anything. Half of the boys in class ran behind her, nudging each other and smiling (presumably looking at her ass). Taylor herself was basically walking and moving her arms in a jogging motion. I rolled my eyes.

"Okay, second slowest," I allowed with a giggle.

"I don't know, considering the amount of sleep I got last night I just may pass out on the field," Mason admitted.

"Couldn't fall asleep?"

"I wish. It's that damn leech's fault. She had the nerve to swing by for a visit at four in the fucking morning."

My stomach tightened. Funny how you can have nightmares about someone you've never even seen. "I'm guessing you didn't catch her?"

"No. She literally vanished in to thin air. Don't ask me how. Jacob didn't want to take any chances though; we spent the rest of the night scouring the forest for her."

I let that sink in. A crazy vampire was out there somewhere, targeting the pack. Despite what Quil said, I really doubted she was after the girls and I. She was a vampire, a hybrid, and if she were here for anything, it was to end the pack, not their imprints. That I knew.

Another thought occurred to me. If Mason was tired, that meant Quil must be, too. His first real day of work and he must be exhausted. I wished for the millionth time that I could see him, but my father hadn't let me out of the house for anything other than school since Tuesday night. And he had taken my cell phone away. I was suffering from withdrawals so severely that I was actually considering writing Quil a letter and delivering it to him via snail mail. Someone kill me!

"What are you thinking about?" Mason asked.

"Quil," I admitted.

"Remind me what you see in him," Mason requested sourly.

"Why? It'd be a waste of my breath. You're never going to like him."

"In all fairness," Mason reasoned, "He's never going to like me either."

"Well, maybe you should try to be a little nicer to people. You're a cool guy and all, and fun to talk to sometimes, but you're also an asshole."

Mason didn't laugh. "Am I an asshole to you? Have I ever been mean to you?"

"Sometimes," I confessed. "But you try not to be. I think it's become a reflex for you."

"Really?" Mason didn't sound awfully interested.

"My point exactly," my breathing was slightly uneven from the running, "You're acting like you have no idea what I'm talking about. Or at least like you don't care. But I don't think you were born a mean person. You just think it's easier to push people away. And now you don't even know how to be the real you anymore."

"And who is the real me?" He prompted, humoring me but clearly not taking what I said seriously.

"I'll tell you when I find him."

"You can run faster than that!" Paul yelled from where he stood on the sidelines. "Ateara! Move your ass!"

"Yes sir, Coach Lahote, sir!" Mason saluted like an army soldier as he pulled slightly ahead. I tried to keep up. When Mason noticed my struggle, he peeked at Paul and slowed right back down.

"I'm really going to hate this class," I huffed.

"Shh! He'll hear you!" Mason warned quietly. We both laughed.

But the moment was bittersweet, because every moment I spent with Mason was a moment I was hurting Quil.

Even though I loved Quil to pieces, I couldn't look at myself in the mirror if I ignored Mason. It was my fault his mother had disowned him, and it was my fault Quil hated him in the first place.

How could I please both of them? How can I make everyone happy?

Answer: you can't. My conscience informed me.

Peeeeerrrrrfect.

Lilly

The afternoons were better… and worse. All of my classes after lunch were with Eliza. Better. They were also all with Travis and two of them were with Jasmine. Also better. But sixth hour also had Camille, Gaby, and Marco. Much, much, worse.

Coach Fall—on top of being the tenth grade chemistry teacher—was one of the P.E. directors and varsity basketball coach. He was in his late forties and did not look in shape enough to be a coach at all.

"Okay guys, I know this is our last class of the day, but let's not shut down yet. Everyone pick a partner and let's practice spiking the ball," Coach said, holding a volleyball up in the air.

My eyes immediately found Eliza's and she smiled widely. I returned her smile, thanking the heavens that I could have some Eliza time without having to listen to Camille running her mouth.

But before I could even stand up to go talk to her, Travis stepped in the way. "Partner up?" He asked enthusiastically.

"Well, actually I—" I dropped off mid-sentence as I noticed Marco approach Eliza. He said something I couldn't hear and then Eliza's eyes shifted over to me, questioning. I sighed and gave a slight nod (to both Eliza and Travis). "Sure."

At least Eliza wasn't with Camille. Marco and Travis had probably planned this. Travis would ask me to be partners so Marco could move in on Eliza. Very clever, boys.

As long as Brady never found out… Not like Eliza would care if he did anyways.

"Awesome," Travis smiled genuinely, running over to grab us a ball.

"So what do you know about volleyball?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"Quite a bit, actually. My family is really in to sports. Jason, Alex, and Mike all played at least three sports when they were teenagers."

"Was one of them volleyball?"

"Yeah, Mike liked playing beach volleyball in the summers, but I think that's because he liked looking at girls in bikinis, and not so much because he was passionate about the game," Travis shared. I laughed.

"How old is your brother now?"

"Old. Thirty-one going on thirty-two. Then Alex is twenty-two and Jason is eighteen. I think Mike was an accident."

"You're the youngest," I noted.

"What about you, Lilly?" Travis asked, bumping the volleyball in my direction.

"Only child," I replied, passing it back.

"That sucks. I mean, growing up with three older brothers wasn't really a cake walk either though. Well, four now I guess. And a younger. Five boys isn't always so fun."

"You have five brothers?" I asked in disbelief, letting the volleyball fall to the gym floor as Travis hit it my way.

"Well, Mike, Alex, and Jason are my real brothers. Nolan and Jamie are my step-brothers."

Oh, yeah, Travis Newton. Duh! "That's right, your dad married Nolan's mom, didn't she?"

"You know the Chee family?" Travis sounded surprised. "How? Nolan and Jamie live on the rez with their dad."

"Nolan and Jamie are uh… friends. We have a lot of mutual friends."

Travis raised an eyebrow, "You hang out with redskins often?"

I glowered at him, "I'm not racist."

"I'm not either, I was just asking a question. Sorry if you took it the wrong way," Travis apologized.

"Well, if you would have asked politely I would have answered yes, a lot of my friends are native. Including one of my best friends and Eliza's family. If she heard you say something like that she'd skin you alive," I told him.

"I hardly doubt that. Marco's really going to have his hands full with that girl."

"What makes you so sure Marco is even Eliza's type?" I questioned, tossing the ball to him. He returned it to me easily.

"Marco likes to think he's every girl's type," Travis laughed. He had a nice laugh—not mocking or sarcastic like Eliza's often were.

"Is he really that self centered, or is it all an act?"

"With Marco, who knows. I've stopped trying to figure him out a long time ago."

"In that case, I think Eliza and Marco have a ton in common."

"And so do we," Travis smiled.

"Excuse me?" I looked at him in confusion.

"Both of us have very… uh, unique best friends."

Oh. I giggled. "Yeah, yeah I guess we do."

We continued to practice passing and serving the ball for the rest of the period. When it was finally time to go to the locker rooms and change, my arms were aching.

"Hey, Lilly, can I ask you something?" Travis inquired nervously as we exited the gym.

"Sure," I answered uncertainly.

"I know it's sudden, but would you maybe want to—"

"Guess what!" Eliza chirped, popping up behind us and shoving Travis away. I waved at him apologetically and followed Eliza into the locker room.

"What?" I asked.

"I'm getting frozen yogurt with Marco tomorrow after school," Eliza smiled.

"I didn't even think you liked Marco," I commented. Eliza's smile faded slightly.

"Of course I don't. Not that way. But I don't need to like him to have a little fun, now do I?"

How do you do it? I wondered. How do you settle for lame ass high schoolers when one of the funniest, nicest guys ever would bend over backwards to impress you?

When you know Brady feels so strongly about you, why do you insist on spitting right in his face? How do you not even feel sorry?

And if you do feel sorry, why won't you just say something? Why won't you open up to me?

But out loud I said, "No, I guess you don't."

Claire

"It's only the fourth day of school and teachers are already piling on the homework," I complained softly into the phone.

"Fucking teachers," I knew Quil enough to be able to tell that he was frowning through the phone. "If your backpack becomes so heavy it breaks your back I'm turning them into poorly-dressed chew toys.

I giggled a little too loudly then slapped my hand over my mouth. "Quil, you can't make me laugh!" I reminded him in a whisper yell. "My dad is just downstairs in his office. If he knows I stole the house phone to call you he'll freak!"

"Sorry, baby. I don't want to get you in any more trouble," Quil told me. I stared glumly out my window into the blackness of night.

"Don't be. If anything I should be the one apologizing to you. My dad is seriously considering calling up his lawyers."

"Eh," I imagined Quil shrugging. "I don't care. It's not that I don't think he'll actually do it… I just don't care. Eventually he's going to have to realize that there isn't a thing in this world that can keep me away from you."

My heart warmed at his words. "God, Quil. How can you be so stupid and wonderful at the same time?"

"It's one of my many talents," he boasted.

"Speaking of talents, how was work today?" I asked, desperate to keep him on the phone as long as possible. It was late, nearly eleven o'clock, and I knew he must have been tired, but the thought of hanging up the phone filled me with a very dark and deep melancholy. I was not looking forward to a second night in a row of crying myself to sleep.

"Long," Quil sighed. "But then again, every minute I'm not with you just drags. If I don't see your beautiful face soon I'm going to lose it."

I had to swallow the lump forming in my throat. Quil would not hear me cry. Knowing him, he'd probably make a huge deal of it and blame himself. The tears were better saved for later, when the only person who could hear them were Eliza, who thankfully didn't say anything to me about it today. Actually, Eliza hadn't been saying much to me or Dad lately.

"I miss you too," I whispered, which seemed like the only way to speak without alerting Quil of the tears that choked my throat and pooled in my eyes.

It was quiet for a minute while I composed myself. "Maybe I can find an excuse to get out of the house this weekend," I said. "Tell Dad that Kallia and I have an Art History project."

"Would he go for that?" Quil sounded eager.

"He most certainly would not," said a third voice. "Hang up the phone, Claire," my father ordered.

"Dad!" I whined, "You can't just do this! Butt out of my life."

"Don't make me come up there and take the phone from you," he threatened.

"Anthony, you touch my girlfriend and I will end you."

"She's my under-aged daughter and if you ever call her your girlfriend again I'll shoot you."

"Claire. Is. My. Girlfriend." Quil said slowly and clearly. "Shoot me."

"Both of you stop it!" I yelled.

"Hang up the phone, Claire!" Dad yelled back.

"You do not talk to her that way," Quil growled.

"She is my child and I speak to her how I want, not how a pervert tells me too."

The sound of a light thud on my window wiped my mind of what I was about to say.

What the fuck? Slowly, I turned my body around to face the large windows that cornered my room…

And screamed like I'd never screamed before.

Dangling from the tree branch outside my window was a body, dangling by its neck.

The body swung lightly, almost as if the wind had pushed it… but there was no wind.

It looked like a girl, with long silky chocolate hair and what may have once been delicate features. But not anymore. Now the body was mangled past the point recognition, with fingernail marks all across her bloodied face. There was a smudge of blood on my bedroom window from where the body had tapped it.

The entire body was so dripping with blood that I couldn't even see what other wounds she had. Just that she was very, very dead. I screamed again, falling to the floor and flinging the phone.

I was vaguely aware of yelling, feet pounding up the stairs, and Quil calling my name from the phone, which now lay on the circular rug under me. But none of it really registered. None of it made sense.

All I could see was the blood, the girl, and the message. This one metaphorical rather than physical.

A mangled, bloody, body that belonged to what looked like a young woman hung outside my bedroom window. There was no note, no eerie writing, no knife in the forehead, but it didn't matter, for I read the message clear as day.

You're next.

Remember to like my facebook page, Quil and Claire: The Perfect Two. I have casted almost every character in the story.