I did not see much of Jessamine's guests for the two sunny days that they were in Forks. I only went home at all so that Earnest wouldn't worry. Otherwise, my existence seemed like that of a specter rather than a vampire. I hovered, invisible in the shadows, where I could follow the object of my love and obsession—where I could see him and hear him in the minds of the lucky humans who could walk through the sunlight beside him, sometimes accidentally brushing the back of his hand with their own. He never reacted to such contact; their hands were just as warm as his.

The enforced absence from school had never been a trial like this before. But the sun seemed to make him happy, so I could not resent it too much.

Monday morning, I eavesdropped on a conversation that had the potential to destroy my confidence and make the time spent away from him truly torturous. As it ended up, though, it rather made my day.

I had to feel some little respect for McKayla Newton. She had more courage than I'd given her credit for. She had not simply given up and slunk away to nurse her wounds—she was going to try again.

Beau got to school quite early and, seeming intent on enjoying the sun while it lasted, sat at one of the seldom-used picnic benches while he waited for the first bell to ring. His hair caught the sun in unexpected ways, giving off a reddish shine that I had not anticipated.

McKayla found him there, doodling again, and was thrilled at her good luck.

It was agonizing only to be able to watch, powerless, bound to the forest's shadows by the bright sunlight.

He greeted her with enough enthusiasm to make her ecstatic, and me the opposite.

See, he likes me. He wouldn't smile like that if he didn't. I bet he wanted to go to the dance with me. Wonder what's so important in Seattle...

It took McKayla a minute to build up her courage, wasting some time on small talk.

He reminded her of the essay we all had due on Wednesday. From the faintly smug expression on his face, his was already done. She'd forgotten altogether, and that severely diminished her free time.

Finally she got to the point—my teeth were clenched so hard they could have pulverized granite—and even then, she couldn't make herself ask the question outright.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to go out."

"Oh," he said.

There was a brief silence.

"Oh"? What does that mean? Is he going to say yes? Wait—I guess I didn't really ask.

She swallowed hard.

"Well, we could go to dinner or something... and I could work on it later."

Stupid—that wasn't a question either.

"McKayla..."

The agony and fury of my jealousy was every whit as powerful as it had been last week. I wanted so badly to race across the campus, too fast for human eyes, and snatch him up—to steal him away from the girl I hated so much in this moment I could have killed her for no reason but to enjoy it.

Would he say yes to her?

"I don't think that would be the best idea."

I breathed again. My rigid body relaxed.

Seattle was just an excuse, after all. Shouldn't have asked. What was I thinking? Bet it's that freak, Cullen.

"Why?" she asked sullenly.

Beau hesitated. "Look, I'm breaking all kinds of man codes telling you this, so don't rat me out, okay?"

I laughed out loud. A jay shrieked, startled, and launched itself away from me.

"Man codes?" she inquired.

"Jeremy's my friend, and if I went out with you, well, it would upset him."

The girl stared at him.

"I never said any of this, okay? It's your word against mine."

"Jeremy?" What? But... oh. Okay. I guess... huh.

Her thoughts were no longer coherent.

"Seriously, are you blind?"

I echoed his sentiment. He shouldn't expect everyone to be as perceptive as he was, but really this instance was beyond obvious. With as much trouble as McKayla had had working herself up to ask Beau out, did she imagine it wasn't just as difficult for Jeremy? It must be selfishness that made her blind to others. And Beau was so unselfish, he saw everything.

Jeremy. Huh. Wow. Huh. "Oh," she managed to say.

Beau used her confusion to make his exit.

"I don't want to be late again. I'm already on Mason's list."

McKayla became an unreliable viewpoint from then on. She found, as she turned the idea of Jeremy around in her head, that she rather liked the thought of him finding her attractive. It was second place, not as good as if Beau had felt that way.

He's cute, though, I guess. Decent body—more athletic than Beau. A bird in the hand...

She was off then, on to new fantasies that were just as vulgar as the ones about Beau, but now they only irritated rather than infuriated. How little she deserved either boy; they were almost interchangeable to her. I stayed clear of her head after that.

When Beau was out of sight, I curled up against the cool trunk of an enormous madrone tree and danced from mind to mind, keeping him in view, always glad when Allen Weber was available to look through. I wished there were some way to thank the Weber boy for simply being a nice person. It made me feel better to think that Beau had one friend worth having.

I watched Beau's face from whichever angle I was given, and I could see that he was upset about something. This surprised me—I thought the sun would be enough to keep him smiling. At lunch, I saw his glance time and time again toward the empty Cullen table, and that thrilled me. Perhaps he missed me, too.

After school, he had plans to go out with the other guys—I automatically planned my own surveillance—but these were postponed when McKayla invited Jeremy out on the date she'd designed for Beau.

So I went straight to his home instead, doing a quick sweep of the woods to make sure no one dangerous had wandered too close. I knew Jessamine had warned her one-time sister to avoid the town—citing my insanity as both explanation and danger—but I wasn't taking any chances. Petrina and Charles had no intention of causing animosity with my family, but intentions were changeable things.

All right, I was overdoing it. I knew that.

As if he was aware I was watching, as if he took pity on the agony I felt when I couldn't see him, Beau came out to the backyard after a long hour indoors. He had a book in his hand and a blanket under his arm.

Silently, I climbed into the higher branches of the closest tree overlooking the yard.

He spread the blanket on the damp grass and then lay on his stomach and started flipping through the worn, obviously often-read book, trying to find his place. I read over his shoulder.

Ah—more classics. Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.

I tasted the way the sunshine and open air affected his scent. The heat seemed to sweeten the smell. My throat flamed with desire, the pain fresh and fierce again because I had been away from him for so long. I spent a moment controlling that, forcing myself to breathe through my nose.

He did not read the book, but flipped through the pages quickly, skimming over them. I did not look at the text. I was watching the sunlight and wind playing in his hair when his body suddenly stiffened. Beau's teeth ground together and he slammed the book shut.

Taking a deep breath as if to calm himself, he tossed the book aside and rolled onto his back. He pushed his sleeves up his forearms, exposing more of his skin to the sun.

Why would he have reacted so apathetically to what was obviously a familiar story? Another mystery. I sighed.

He lay very still now, moving just once to run his fingers through his hair. And then he was motionless again.

He made a very serene picture, there in the sunlight. Whatever peace had evaded him before seemed to find him now. His breathing slowed. After several long minutes his lips began to tremble. Mumbling in his sleep.

I felt an uncomfortable spasm of guilt. Because what I was doing now was not precisely good, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as my nightly pursuits. I wasn't technically even trespassing now—the base of this tree grew from the next lot over—let alone doing something more felonious. But I knew that when night came, I would continue to do wrong.

Even now, part of me wanted to trespass. To jump to the ground, landing silently on my toes, and ease into his circle of sunshine. Just to be closer to him. To hear his murmured words as though he was whispering them to me.

It wasn't my unreliable morality that held me back—it was the thought of myself in the sun's glare. Bad enough that my skin was stone and inhuman in shadow; I didn't want to look at Beau and myself side by side in the sunlight. The difference between us was already insurmountable, painful enough without that image also in my head. Could I be any more grotesque? I imagined his terror if he opened his eyes and saw me there beside him.

"Mmm...," he moaned.

I leaned back against the tree trunk, deeper into shadow.

He sighed. "Mmm."

I did not fear that he had woken. His voice was just a low, wistful murmur.

"Eden. Ahh."

Eden?

Ha! He wasn't dreaming of me at all, I realized blackly. The self-loathing returned in force. He was dreaming of someone else. Perhaps that had always been the case, and all along his dreams had been filled with another girl. So much for my conceit.

He said nothing more that was intelligible. The afternoon passed and I watched, feeling helpless again, as the sun slowly sank in the sky and the shadows crawled across the lawn toward him. I wanted to push them back, but of course the darkness was inevitable; the shadows took him. When the light was gone, his skin looked too pale—ghostly. His hair was dark again, almost black against his face.

It was a frightening thing to watch—like witnessing Archie's visions come to fruition. Beau's steady, strong heartbeat was the only reassurance, the sound that kept this moment from feeling like a nightmare.

I was relieved when his father arrived home.

I could hear little from him as he drove down the street toward the house. Some vague annoyance... in the past, something from his day at work. Expectation mixed with hunger—I guessed that he was looking forward to dinner. But his thoughts were so quiet and contained that I could not be sure I was right. I only got the gist of them.

I wondered what his mother sounded like—what the genetic combination had been that had formed his so uniquely.

Beau started awake, jerking up to a sitting position when the tires of his father's car hit the brick driveway. He stared around himself, seeming confused by the unexpected darkness. For one brief moment, his eyes touched the shadows where I hid, but then flickered quickly away.

"Charlie?" he asked in a low voice, still peering into the trees surrounding the small yard.

The door of his car slammed shut, and he looked to the sound. He got to his feet quickly and gathered his things, casting one more look back toward the woods.

I moved into a tree closer to the back window near the small kitchen, and listened to their evening. It was interesting to compare Charlie's words to his muffled thoughts. His love and concern for his only child were nearly overwhelming, and yet his words were always terse and casual. Most of the time, they sat in companionable silence.

I heard him discuss his plans to go to a movie the following evening in Port Angeles with Jeremy and Allen, and I refined my own plans as I listened. Jessamine had not warned Petrina and Charles to stay clear of Port Angeles. Though I knew that they had fed recently and had no intention of hunting anywhere in the vicinity of our home, I would watch him, just in case. After all, there were always others of my kind out there. And, of course, all those human dangers that I had never much considered before now.

I heard him worry aloud about leaving his father to prepare dinner alone, and smiled at this proof to my theory—yes, he was the caretaker here, too.

And then I left, knowing I would return while he was asleep, ignoring every ethical and moral argument against my behavior.

But I certainly would not trespass on his privacy the way the peeping jane would have. I was here for his protection, not to leer at him in the way McKayla Newton no doubt would, were she agile enough to move through the treetops. I would not treat him so crassly.

My house was empty when I returned, which was fine by me. I didn't miss the confused or disparaging thoughts, questioning my sanity. Eleanor had left a note stuck to the newel post.

Football at the Rainier field—c'mon! Please?

I found a pen and scrawled the word sorry beneath her plea. The teams were even without me, in any case.

I went for the shortest of hunting trips, contenting myself with the smaller, gentler creatures that did not taste as good as the other predators, and then changed into fresh clothes before I ran back to Forks.

Beau did not sleep as well tonight. He thrashed in his blankets, his face sometimes worried, sometimes forlorn. I wondered what nightmare haunted him... and then realized that perhaps I didn't really want to know.

When he spoke, he mostly muttered derogatory things about Forks in a glum voice. Only once, when he sighed out the words "Come back" and his hand twitched open—a wordless plea—did I have a chance to hope he might be dreaming of me.

The next day of school, the last day the sun would hold me prisoner, was much the same as the day before. Beau seemed even gloomier than yesterday, and I wondered if he would bow out of his plans—he didn't seem in the mood. But, being Beau, he would probably put his friends' enjoyment above his own.

He wore a deep blue sweater today, and the color set his skin off perfectly, making it look like fresh cream.

School ended, and Jeremy agreed to pick the other guys up.

I went home to get my car. When I found that Petrina and Charles were there, I decided I could afford to give the guys an hour or so as a head start. It would have been a struggle to follow them, driving at the speed limit—hideous thought.

Everyone was gathered in the bright great room. Petrina and Charles both noticed my abstraction as I belatedly welcomed them, apologizing halfheartedly for my absence, shaking their hands. I was unable to concentrate enough to join the group conversation. As soon I as could politely extricate myself, I drifted to the piano and began playing quietly.

What a strange creature, the Archie-sized, white-blond Charles was thinking. And she was so normal and pleasant the last time we met.

Petrina's thoughts were in sync with his, as was usually the case.

It must be the animals. The lack of human blood drives them mad eventually, she was concluding. Her hair was just as fair as his, and almost as short. They were very similar—except for size, as she was nearly as tall as Eleanor. A well-matched pair, I'd always thought.

Why even bother coming home? Royal sneered.

Ah, Edythe. I hate to see her suffering so. Earnest's joy was becoming corrupted by his concern. He should be concerned. This love story he envisioned for me was careening toward tragedy more perceptibly every moment.

Have fun in Port Angeles tonight, Archie thought cheerfully. Let me know when I'm allowed to talk to Beau.

You're pathetic. I can't believe you missed the game last night just to watch somebody sleep, Eleanor grumbled.

Everyone but Earnest stopped thinking about me after a moment, and I kept my playing subdued so that I would not attract notice.

I did not pay attention to them for a long while, just letting the music distract me from my unease. It was never not distressing to have the boy out of sight. I only returned my focus to their conversation when the goodbyes grew more final.

"If you see Mario again," Jessamine was saying, a little warily, "tell him I wish him well."

Mario was the vampire who had created both Jessamine and Petrina—Jessamine in the latter half of the nineteenth century, Petrina more recently, in the nineteen forties. He'd looked Jessamine up once when we were in Calgary. It had been an eventful visit—we'd had to move immediately. Jessamine had politely asked him to keep his distance in the future.

"I don't imagine we'll cross paths soon," Petrina said with a laugh—Mario was undeniably dangerous and there was not much love lost between him and Petrina. Petrina had, after all, been instrumental in Jessamine's defection. Jessamine had always been Mario's favorite; he considered it a minor detail that he had once planned to kill her. "But, should it happen, I certainly will."

They were shaking hands then, preparing to depart. I let the song I was playing trail off to an unsatisfying end and got hastily to my feet.

"Charles, Petrina," I said, nodding.

"It was nice to see you again, Edythe," Charles said doubtfully. Petrina just nodded in return.

Madman, Eleanor threw after me.

Idiot, Royal thought at the same time.

Poor girl. Earnest.

And Archie, in a chiding tone. They're going straight east, to Seattle. Nowhere near Port Angeles. He showed me the proof in his visions.

I pretended I hadn't heard that. My excuses were already flimsy enough.

Once in my car, I felt more relaxed. The robust purr of the engine Royal had boosted for me—last year, when he was in a better mood—was soothing. It was a relief to be in motion, to know that I was getting closer to Beau with every mile that flew away under my tires.