The next day dawned gray and rainy like most days in Forks, but that didn't mean I'd canceled my plans.
And I don't mean the interviews.
There was another reason why I'd come back to Forks. It wasn't just about coming home, or because of some issue with college. I had a problem and Forks was the only place I knew to go.
Pulling my curly brown hair into a ponytail and zipping up my sweatshirt over a knitted sweater, I muttered under my breath. Preparing, yet again. Not that I needed it. Most of the night had been spent with me tossing and turning, trying to find the right words until they all unfurled and set themselves in order sometime around dawn.
"I know you told me to never come back here and I kept my promise until now, but I have questions and you have answers and I'm not leaving." The words sounded strong– certainly much stronger than I felt– and a little more than a bit dramatic, but it was necessary.
Some things required a bit of drama. It was one of the lessons I learned from my mother, short though the lesson was. Mom always knew the right thing to say, drama or no. If something needed saying, flighty and scatter-brained though she may be, she knew what to do.
Wrenching my bedroom door open, I made my quiet way downstairs, listening to the sounds of my dad watching the morning news. Rounding the corner of the combined living room and kitchen, I watched over his head and poured myself a cup of coffee.
"Investigations of the attacks are ongoing, but we suspect grizzly activity," a cop said into the microphone of the local news reporter. They stood outside of a car shop, the entrances smothered in yellow tape as reporters and other officers buzzed around the scene. I frowned, peeking at Dad to see his face matched mine.
"Is that close to here?"
"About an hour or two North. Take your knife with you when you head out, Lena."
I didn't question it, just nodding in return as I gestured to my jean pocket where my handy pocket knife sat outlined. It had been an eighteenth birthday gift, even though truthfully I wasn't allowed to have one this long on me legally, especially not concealed.
But no one said having a cop as a dad meant safety rules were followed all the time. Most of the time, yes– but I couldn't blame him.
Good old fashioned Dad threats don't do much good to overly handy guys if said dad is over two thousand miles away. Cop or no. Even if said dad never heard about said guys.
But regardless he trusted me to use the knife only when necessary. So outside of him and one of his buddies teaching me to use it properly and the occasional camping need, it didn't get much use. Plus, I had other ways to defend myself. Not that I liked to use them.
Things only ever got worse if I did.
At that thought, I gulped down the rest of my coffee, ignoring the burn down my throat. I had a schedule to keep. Placing the empty mug in the sink, I made a mental note to pick up some tea later. Coffee wasn't exactly my drink of choice, but caffeine was a must.
"Are my keys still on their hook?"
"Yep. Oil and tires are good too."
"Thanks, Dad." Coming close to his chair, I squeezed his shoulder, keeping my eyes off the television still showing the shop where the man's body had been found. Turning my back on the screen, I grabbed my keys and left the house, a smile tugging on my lips as I stepped into the downpour.
Some hated the rain, but I loved it and soon my face was slick with water.
Walking to my red 1995 Honda Accord (a gift from Charlie when I got my license at sixteen), I didn't bother rushing. It wasn't like I'd be dry for long anyway. This wasn't gonna be an indoor activity.
The car rattled to life as I shut the door behind me and turned the key, moving on autopilot. It would be a lie to say the engine purred, but the car was a good one, even if it was over a decade old. Backing out of the driveway, I pushed down the nerves that started to build as soon as I found myself going down the familiar roads.
Something about driving in my hometown always had a transportive quality beyond the usual kind. It wasn't just a trip down a road, it was a trip down memory lane. I drove past the old church I learned piano in, my fifth-grade English teacher's house, the playground where I met my first friends and the field behind the middle school where all this trouble decided to begin.
My jaw clenched involuntarily and I fought to keep my eyes on the road. The wind picked up around the car as I drove, and my knuckles went white on the steering wheel.
Yeah, a trip down memory road, just what I needed. No, what I needed was to stay focused.
Pine trees slid past, quick as the rain splattering my windshield, becoming denser the farther I drove. If it hadn't been morning, I'd have thought it was turning to night as the canopy overhead became thicker, branches of evergreen bristle-filled even in December.
Once upon a time, the drive would've been filled with excitement– with tension that made it hard to stay still. Instead, I just wanted to get it over with.
The minutes ticked by too slow for my fraying nerves, the brief glimpses of coastline tantalizing and too quick before I'd be plunged back into the woods. A cold sweat covered me, no doubt forming a sheen on my forehead. I thanked the fates that I'd decided to wear a sweatshirt.
Pit stains are no joking matter.
After over an hour, the pines began to thin as I crossed the Makah reservation line and eventually pulled up to the start of a well-kept boardwalk. I turned off my car, taking a deep breath and staring out the window. The way to Cape Alava stared back at me, the twists and turns of the path hidden and secretive as ever. Grimacing, I got out of the car, pulling up my hood as the rain continued.
Throughout the drive, it had lulled to a light shower and so the drops barely touched me as I moved onto the creaking planks of the walk. Too early in the morning and too late in the year for "adventurous" tourists, the boardwalk was deserted and I braced myself for the three-mile walk. I let the forest engulf me, fighting panic and melancholy.
As if recognizing me as an old friend, the wind nipped at me as I walked, tugging at my hair, my knees, my chin. Its caress was smooth on my cheeks, feather-light and seeking to comfort and play. I pulled the strings on my hood tighter, scowling.
Here, at the westernmost point of the continental US, the air held an eerie quality to it the closer you got to the coast; as if the very elements themselves knew you were on the edge of the "new world." Having been to the easternmost point in Maine, it was a quality both places shared.
I pushed thoughts of Maine, of the east coast, out of my head. It stung too much. Beautiful though it had been, it was a colder beauty than I could take. Harsh and unforgiving, I'd learned more than my limits while pressed against those limestone coasts.
Quickening my pace to a brisk clip, I did my best not to slip on the wet wood. The quicker I got there, the sooner I could leave. I had no delusions that being here would magically fix it all, it certainly never had before, but I had to know. I had to see.
The trees thinned more the further I got and my calves ached. My eyesight grew hazy and my head began to swim as it always did when I got this close to the edge, but I pushed through it. Walking off the boardwalk, I weaved between branches of pines and birch, my fingers tingling as I brushed past. The light dwindled as I moved, the air smothering yet cold, crackling until I breached the boundary.
Warmth drowned me, washing over my body, bathwater on my nerves. Yet the feeling brought no comfort. Swallowing, I reached the very edge of the treeline, stopping while the rain fell around me but failed to linger on my skin.
Across the low-tide beach, Ozette Island sat foreboding and shrouded in its cloak of mist, sand, and spells that the average person couldn't see. If a tourist was to show up right this second, neither I nor the mystical qualities of the island would be seen and they'd have the strong urge to leave. Not that I didn't have the same urge.
A dark mass in a sea of gray, the island waited, small although it filled my vision. The tide of memory fought to swallow me– of sunlit days and laughter, midnight hours and pain– but I shoved it away before I could drown. Slipping off my shoes, I left my sneakers with my socks tucked inside, the knife from my pocket nestled with them. I pursed my lips as the rain touched them. Shaking my head, I stepped from the bank and made my way to the wet sand stretching out to the incoming tide, determined.
Beneath my toes, the sand squished and ground together, but the puddles of water remained untouched. I smiled balefully as my foot pressed into one, the liquid cool against my heel, but my foot refusing to go through.
Raised as a Christian half-heartedly by my dad, the sheer amount of irony never ceased to strike me.
There really was something about being a witch that could walk on water. But it did always seem like some sort of karmic force decided to rear its head in me.
Getting closer to the shores of the island, the waves parted as I breached into the surf until my feet graced the tops of crests and I slid upon the white waters. Seafoam bubbled beneath me, getting between my toes as I rushed through. Out of practice and freezing, I looked down at my feet praying to the fates that they wouldn't let me fall.
Glancing from my feet to the beach of the island, I frowned as a figure emerged from the fog, standing white-haired and tall and oh so familiar.
Distracted by her appearance, I failed to notice when my foot slipped on an errant wave and I tumbled to my knees. My jeans soaked with ocean water as I caught myself with my hands. The salt from the waves made my eyes water as they splashed around me and pushed against my skin. Getting up with a jolt, I shook my head. Fitting that I'd be kneeling before her, yet again.
Trudging out from the sea, I drew up close to her and bowed my head in greeting.
"Child, you have traveled far to learn nothing."
I arched a brow, but my mouth quirked all the same. I dared not ask if she meant this journey or my one East.
"Good to see you too, Nameh." She shook her head at me, her braided hair wavering in the wind and laying against her brown dress. A colorful shawl wrapped around her, gossamer and complex in its weavings of dancing bears and triumphant deer. Her eyes lingered on my bare feet, stark against the dark sand. "Sorry, I didn't come traditionally dressed."
Something about walking naked as the day I was born across the cape never had appealed and it still didn't.
"You never do." She motioned with her hand, taking my arm with her spindled fingers. "Come."
Falling into step beside her, I braced her arm with my other hand as we approached an incline. I helped her up the barnacled stones, the progress slow. Through her robe, I could feel how her bones protruded and concern and annoyance settled in, equal to each other in every way.
"I heard you dropped out of school." No signs of disapproval colored her worn features, her tone matter-of-fact and her wrinkled brow smooth as it could be. "I don't suppose you've come to learn."
I shook my head. "Have you heard anything?"
Her dark eyes met mine briefly, but she turned her head away. It was all the answer I needed, but I forged on regardless.
"Nameh, have you at least heard of other ways to control it?" I didn't need to continue. She knew, perhaps better than I, how I struggled.
"I have not, but you know as well as I that you can without new ways. You lack discipline, not ability or knowledge."
"Nameh–"
"Child, I don't think you've come here for the same answers I've always given you." I sighed. She was right but all the same.
"I know you told me to not come back unless I wanted to learn truly, and I kept my promise until now but–" I faltered, mortified as my eyes began to water. "Nameh, I'd do anything. I can't control it and when I can't it hurts people. I thought that trying the ways of the Eastern women would work, but it didn't."
My voice wobbled at the end and my throat burned with the attempt to hold back tears. Thankfully, she said nothing, instead guiding me through the trees.
Reaching a path leading to a small wooden cottage, Nameh released my arm. She opened the weathered door and went through first as I lingered. She disappeared into the dark without a word and the smell of dried lavender swept over me as I followed her. Treading over the threshold, I was unsurprised to see nothing of the cottage changed in the years I'd avoided it.
A rocking chair still sat by the window, knitting close by. Lamps lit by candles alone cast a slight glow, the beaded and woven decorations of the room causing long shadows on the walls. Nameh began the motions of making tea, the woodstove already home to a kettle with steam rising steadily from the top.
I got the usual chipped mugs out from the cupboard they always sat in, watching as she pressed leaves into the bottoms and poured hot water over the tea in graceful arcs. She handed me my mug and the warmth finally made a small dent on my nerves. They still jumbled themselves in my head and limbs, but at least I'd made it here.
"I guess you saw me coming," I said, and her lips quivered.
"I always do." She took a seat in her rocking chair while I took the floor as customary, perching atop a ragged cushion. Silence covered us for a moment before she spoke, words careful but firm. "Helena, have you considered that it's long past the time for you to accept who you are?"
"What I am," I corrected for her, causing her to frown as she swirled her tea.
"Is that a no, then?"
"It's not a no. I've accepted it as much as I can," I paused at her knowing gaze, turning my head to look out the window instead of at her eyes. "Say what you will, but I have. Not all of us can be hermits in the woods. I want to live, Nameh, not hide myself away."
"I never said you had to. You're the one that decided to be a witch is to be alone." I refused to look at her. It was another thing we disagreed on. "You're lucky you came when no one else was here."
I scoffed. "I've never met a witch who liked the morning."
"Well, except you."
"I'm not a real witch."
Nameh laughed at me. "No, dear, you just don't want to be. It's not quite the same thing, although I suppose my mother would've said a witch that wants none–"
"Is no witch at all. Yes, you've mentioned."
Nameh sipped from her mug, eyeing me over the top. "If you're just going to sit there and grouch at me, I'm not sure why you came at all. Promise or no, it's quite a journey to make." She peered out her windows. "Especially in times like these."
"You mean the bear attack?"
"No bears I know attack men only." She sipped her tea again, and I joined her, letting the hot liquid fill my mouth and the aromatic tea invade my senses. "You should be careful."
"Are they skinwalkers?"
I'd heard of the old Makah stories many times from the other girls growing up, and I knew enough of the legends of Forks to know that the Quileute reservation had quite a few of its own. Although the tribe there never warmed to me in quite the same way the Makah had.
When I left, the other women of our coven whispered that maybe it was because the Quileute elders sensed I was no good. I knew that wasn't it, but I hadn't argued at the time. Nameh's answer shook me from my thoughts.
"I can't say."
"Won't say."
"As always, they're the same for you. But still, be careful. Child," she trailed off, setting down her mug. "Helena, I saw what happened in the East. I know you tried and that it came with great pain. I'm so sorry for the loss you suffered, I know it must hurt." I snorted, understatement of the century. "I'd take it away if I could, but it's not my purpose to shoulder your burden. The fates wouldn't have given you your lot in life if you weren't meant to handle it."
"No, they wouldn't have given it to me if my mother hadn't tampered unknowingly."
"Even so, you'll never be able to live fully if you don't accept it and learn to love it as you should. It's a gift and a hard responsibility, but it's no curse."
I said nothing in return. She knew enough.
"While the coven won't allow you back, I have some books I think you should take with you. Come again in a month and we can discuss them."
As always, Nameh's answer was simply to learn and to accept.
"Why bother? You said it yourself, I'm a lost cause." I dropped my head to look into my mug, frustration overwhelming me. I'd been dealing with this for over a decade now, if not longer. Anyone could see I was.
"I never said that, and I never will. Losing your way is not the same thing as hopeless."
Getting up from her rocking chair, she handed me what must've been the books, wrapped in emerald cloth and tied with white twine. She placed them in my arms, taking my tea from me.
"The others will come shortly, if you don't wish to be seen, you should be through the boundary soon."
I nodded, but stopped, searching her round face.
"Nameh, I'm sorry I griped at you. Thank you for trying to help." She patted my arm.
"It will get better."
I smirked, "Is that an official prediction?" She rolled her eyes at me.
"If it will make you feel better, then yes. Perhaps it is."
With that, she ushered me out the door, closing it behind me. Minding her words, I hurried along the path root-strewn, clutching the books close. I looked back only once, seeing her watch me from the window, the ever-present ever-knowing smile playing on her red lips.
I turned away, refusing to linger. I'd be back soon enough and I had no wish to see the members of my old coven. Witch or no, I knew how to pick my battles.
Or rather, I'd learned how to and as always I still had more to learn. Pity it never was as simple as simply reading a book.
Well, at long last chapter two is up! Sorry it took so long, stuff has been crazy! What do you think of Helena's powers? I'm really hoping to have this be a story of character growth and etc. so when the cullens do finally show their sparkly faces, Helena will have her own motivations and character arc outside of them. Because a strong independent women don't need no vampire to fix 'er!
Next chapter should hopefully be up in a week or to lol. Also a massive thank you to ThePinksy18, ForeverEmbers, The Girl Who Cried Werewolf, eeeeaud, DxGRAYxMAN, and leward1992 for the comments and everyone else who followed/favorited! Very much appreciated!