35 Fortune Teller

The chapter title belongs to Robert Plant and Allison Krauss

Jacob POV

"You look like hell."

I'd stumbled out of the bedroom and was standing, bleary-eyed, in the doorway to the kitchen. Billy sat at the little table, a steaming plate of eggs before him. The pungent aroma of fresh coffee hung in the air, burning a path to my brain.

I glanced up at the mirror across from me. My hair was going north and south and bags hung under my eyes.

"Thanks for noticing." I slumped down across from him, laying my head on the table briefly before sitting up and leaning back in my chair.

He regarded me for a moment before starting on the eggs. "There's more in the pan." He gestured as he started to finally eat.

"Just coffee," I muttered as I got up and poured myself a cup. After I collapsed back in the seat, he put down his fork and looked pointedly at me, raising his eyebrows.

"Didn't sleep well," I explained.

He nodded knowingly and continued to eat.

"I fell asleep around midnight, but had a dream, the same one I've had for four nights in a row," I told him, thinking it might make me feel less unsettled if I discussed it with someone.

He chuckled between bites. "I'll bet it was about that pretty new clerk they got down at Sullivan's."

I laughed as well. She was a looker, but sadly, no. "Nah, it was bizarre. I've never had one like it." I sighed and frowned, remembering the scenes with extraordinary clarity.

"So, not about a pretty girl. Maybe...about a car? I saw you—"

"No, no," I cut in. "About a raven."

I closed my eyes and drank the hot coffee with my elbows propped comfortably on the table.

I heard Billy's fork clatter down, and looked up to see him sitting up straight, staring at me.

"What?" I muttered.

"The raven came to you." It was a statement, rather than an actual question.

"W...well," I stammered, "a raven." There was a group of them?

He pushed his plate back and crossed his arms over his chest. I felt like I was on trial. "Have you had the sighting yet? Of the raven?"

"What—"

"Have you seen the raven from your dream? Has he appeared to you?"

"Oh," I shook my head, comprehension finally dawning on me. "No. Just the dream."

Billy continued to stare at me.

"Okay, you're starting to seriously freak me out here," I laughed. "What's the deal?"

"My grandfather, Ephraim Black, got kind of funny near the end of his life. He'd wander in the woods for days, eating berries and wild mushrooms. After he died we found a small stack of prophecies he'd made but never shared with anyone. Old Quil's studied them for years, trying to discern their meaning. Every time one of the predictions comes to pass, he carefully documents it and we have a tribal council meeting to see if every part of the prophecy has been revealed."

His voice was hypnotic and I found that my breathing had slowed as I lapsed into an altered state, where he had my full and undivided attention. I'd never remembered being so focused.

I thought about the man my dad referred to as 'Old Quil.' He'd never transformed, because the vampires didn't live here when he was of age, but he was the last surviving member of the tribe to have actually witnessed the transformations of the previous pack. He was a treasure trove of valuable information about the history of the shape shifters and the legends surrounding the phenomenon and the tribal council held him in the highest regard.

He was, Billy always said, 'the keeper of our secrets, the steward of our magic and the interpreter of all things mystical and unknowable.' But I never knew anything about prophecies that my great-grandfather had made, or how they had affected my tribe.

"The raven is a magical animal of the spirit world, able to transcend the barrier between that world and reality as we know it. He appears only to the Alpha or to the chief, in tandem with the dream, to warn or foretell of a significant event to the tribe.

"It has been reported in the past that on rare occasions, the duo of bird and dream will be revealed to one other person, someone who has a link to the event about to unfold. This person is not always a member of the tribe."

My coffee sat untouched on the table, growing cold. Billy's eggs were similarly forgotten. As he spoke, I realized that sitting here at the table with Billy marked a turning point in my life. As other people would remember where they were when they heard about JFK's assassination or the tragedy of 9-11, I would recall the day when I finally and forever turned my back on childhood and its foolish hopes and dreams, to become my tribe's leader and protector.

I leaned forward to hear him better. The hum of the refrigerator, cars passing by on the street, the radio playing at the neighbors house—all the sounds of normal life ceased for me as Billy spoke of ancient magic and the part that I, as Alpha, would play.

Billy paused during his revelation, sometimes to eat a bite of his cold breakfast or take a sip of the similarly tepid coffee, probably to let the seriousness of his words sink in. It worked. I was in awe, letting his pronouncement flow into me, find its place, to let the magic become part of me. After a few minutes I refocused and gestured for him to continue.

"Tribal records show that, many years ago, the reservation was running short of fresh water. This was before lines had been run to every house. Water still had to be pulled from a well, and it was running brown and muddy.

"The chief finally decided to utilize an old well that had been bricked over. It had been used for generations, but after a bad storm, many people who drank from it became sick and some died.

"Coincidentally, a white woman who worked in the local clinic reported to the doctor, a Quileute council member, about a recurring nightmare. She reported dreaming about an epidemic of children who were thin and sickly, their hair falling out in huge clumps.

"Upon questioning her, the doctor found out that the woman had also seen the raven, although she didn't attach any significance to it. The bird had taken to sitting on her fencepost day and night.

"The doctor relayed the dream and the sighting at the emergency council meeting the chief had called. Apparently he'd seen the raven and had the same troubling dream of sick children.

"A carpenter with no training in chemistry or science, the chief decided to have the well water tested before he allowed the community to utilize it, finding it was loaded with arsenic.

"Quil studied the account and believes he found the prophecy to go along with the event. He believes only a person that is sensitive to the vibrations from the otherworld will have the dream and the visit from the raven, and then, only when they are somehow involved or can aid the tribe somehow."

As he finished the story, I reluctantly pulled myself back into the present. "What do you mean, he 'believes he found the prophecy to go with the event.' Is it that hard to match them up?"

"The language in which they're written is enigmatic, Jacob," he explained patiently. "When you first read them, they have no meaning. Only when a series of events come to pass can you attach significance to them."

"From what I understand," Billy continued, rolling his chair over to the sink to make a fresh pot of coffee, "Quil thinks that the Cullen's arrival back in this area was the first event in a string, and that Bella's appearance and Edward's subsequent interest in her was the catalyst to put the machine in motion."

I realized I was sitting with my mouth hanging wide open.

"Quil believes that once Bella and Edward declared their love for each other, eschewing the traditions of their prospective species, their destinies became intertwined. This was foretold."

"Wait a minute," I objected. "So he leaves her, and I fall in love with her and imprint on her, thinking we're going to be together before she runs off to Italy to rescue him, and the whole time, it was foretold that they would be together, and her life with me was never a possibility?"

"Not according to old Quil. In fact, he's predicted every noteworthy event that's happened between them, just by interpreting the prophecy."

"Well, shit. So, I guess nobody can tell me anything, right? I mean, I'm just the stinking Alpha."

"No one is allowed to act in a way that might change the future that is foretold, Jacob."

"And now? Suddenly I'm, what, worthy?"

Billy never raised his voice, although I was shouting, standing at the table and ranting like a madman.

"The raven is a portent, Jacob. Sighting the raven signifies that an event that has been foretold is manifesting on the physical plane. Until you witness the raven and have the attending dream, you aren't ready to hear about it."

"Since I've now had the dream," I said slowly, not certain I wanted to hear the answer, "something important will happen to the tribe. It's been foretold in the prophecies that my great-grandfather made, and this event is about to unfold?"

He nodded. "The prophecies are obscure and broad, Jacob. They don't say things like beware of the well because it will poison the people. I can't remember the exact wording, but it was more like beware the stagnant, as it will wound the unknowing."

"Oh." Jeez, they were a little vague. "So..." I thought for a moment, "if there's a string of prophecies concerning the Cullens and Edward's marriage to Bella, we have the next one, right?"

"We do. But it's meaningless at this point. All we know is that the event, whatever it is, is about to occur, simply because you, as the leader, have had the dream."

I felt a pressure settle on me that I'd never experienced before. Later I realized it was the stress of leadership, the tension of being expected to make decisions for my people, about events that hadn't even manifested yet. I pushed the coffee cup away and put my head back down on the table, wondering if I was being a pussy for wishing, just for a moment, that I was back in school, where the only thing I had to worry about was whether or not the girl who sat behind me in world history thought I was cute.

Billy pushed his chair from the table and over to the phone. I heard his quick conversation with Quil. I sat up to see Billy smiling. "He says to get over to his place right away. He has something to show you."

Forty minutes later Billy and I sat on old Quil's back porch. On the small table lay a Ziploc bag with yellowing paper inside, next to a spiral-bound notebook and a pencil.

"Please tell me your dream, from start to finish, and do not leave anything out." He leaned back, closing his eyes.

The dream was easy to remember, as I'd had it several times in just a few days. "I dreamed a raven sat outside my bedroom window. We flew together, over Forks, the beach, and then sat in a tree outside Charlie's house. We watched him drive off in the cruiser, and afterwards we soared through like a million trees—all green—all suddenly turning red, yellow and orange, changing as we flew through them. Before I woke up, every one of the five times I've had the dream, the raven spoke to me."

"Do you remember what he said?" Quil asked softly, not looking at me, still sitting with his eyes closed and his head back.

"All is as the Universe decrees."

Finally Quil sat back up. "You have not had the sighting yet?"

"Of the raven? No, not yet."

He nodded. "The time is almost upon us, Jacob." Turning his attention to the tabletop, he gestured.

"These are the original prophecies as written in your great-grandfather's hand. I've copied them down," he patted the bag, "into this notebook. They're written in pencil and I was afraid that they'd be ruined by so much handling. But I wanted you to look through them, and see that I've been faithful to the original documents, writing every word. The punctuation and spacing are identical."

He looked satisfied, and as I examined the documents (he made me wash my hands and dry them carefully first) I saw that he was being honest, not that I doubted him. I replaced them and turned my attention to the notebook, which was replete with drawings, musings and his interpretation of the prophecy before and after the event it corresponded to.

I turned my attention to the part of the notebook entitled'The Cullens.'

The first prophecy was clear. The unwanted return. The drawing depicted seven figures trudging through the snow, the sun obscured by a rainy, gray sky, the Forks city limit sign in the distance.

It was the Cullens departure from Alaska and their arrival back in Forks.

At the return of the white fawn, war drums will sound in the valley, was taken as Bella's arrival in Forks, and the attending battles between the Cullens and the other vampires.

On they went, from Edward's interest in her, their love, his departure and her intervention in saving him, to the battle with Victoria and her army, when Bella realized she loved me but chose her soul mate in Edward. And I was shown a clearing where stood the white fawn, and a warrior from each clan fought to claim her.

Their marriage was easy to spot. The two houses will join but the light and the dark will put forth no kin.

Next was her change, which Quil had drawn as a woman in the arms of a tall man, her head thrown back, blood dripping as he held his mouth to her throat. First blood will fall upon the snow.

We focused on the next one: The sire's blood will stain the sacred ground and the tribe will claim him as their own. Quil had drawn a man lying on the ground, blood all around him, a brave with headband and a feather in it standing over him. It could mean anything, but the dream had been realized, so the time was drawing near for the event to materialize.

We were all silent while I read and reread the pages of the notebook. "The white fawn," I asked out loud, "is Bella. Correct?"

Quil nodded. "She is mentioned several times. I believe it is her. The two clans, of course, are the Quileutes and the Vampires. The sire...I am not sure who this is. Many tribe members have a sire, a father who is still living, and sacred ground can mean many things."

I thought for a moment. "Let's see if I have this straight," I said slowly. These prophecies about the Cullens and Bella must be important to the tribe for there to be a whole string of them."

"Yes." Quil sat up straight to look at me. "Keep your eyes open, Jacob. The raven will appear to you and you will know it is him. As the Alpha, you may be called upon to make a decision that will impact the tribe. You are young, but you are still our leader. The magic of our people will make itself known to you in time of need."

Hell, old Quil was just as cryptic as the original predictions made by Ephraim. What magic? How will it make itself known to me?

I must have looked incredulous, and he laughed. "C'mon, let's have some ice cream," and he got up and shuffled into the small house to pull out a new carton of Breyers French Vanilla from the ancient refrigerator.

It turned out to be a surrealistic afternoon, as we sat in silence in the tiny kitchen, eating Quil's ice cream from pink plastic bowls. When we were finished, I washed the bowls and spoons for Quil and shook his hand. "Thanks for sharing all this with me. I'll...be on the lookout for..."

He chuckled again. "You'll know when you see it, Jacob. The magic will not fail you."

Okay.

We drove home in silence. The lack of sleep was ganging up on me and all I could think of was falling into my bed for a nap, but as we pulled up to the house, the sight that awaited me woke me up.

He sat on the mailbox. Solid black. A normally solitary bird that won't usually mingle with other birds or people, he sat perfectly still as I pulled the truck up and parked. Billy and I glanced at each other and then back to him.

He didn't fly away as I fetched Billy's chair from the back and popped it open. Slamming doors didn't affect him. As we brushed by him and opened the gate he just hopped to look at us.

Neither Billy nor I mentioned him. He stayed perched on the mailbox until nightfall. We considered each other for awhile until he finally flew away around midnight, leaving me with more questions than I'd had before.

I fell into the bed, finally to get a few hours sleep. The dream intruded once again, and when I woke, the raven was indeed on the low branch outside my window.

Billy and I didn't speak of him and I decided to go about my day. Seth was due to meet me on the beach, as we needed to scout out a suitable location for the end-of-summer cookout. Our last spot was covered in debris from a recent storm. We needed a place with a decent beach, a shaded area for the old folks and babies, and access to parking that wasn't too far away.

The sky was a mixture of gray and white clouds, all blowing and congealing into threatening. A breeze had picked up and I smelled rain in the distance. I ran down the hill to the beach to find Seth sitting in the shade, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a plastic tumbler of milk in one hand.

"That looks good," I mentioned, realizing I hadn't eaten anything other than a few spoonfuls of ice cream in quite a few hours. He laughed and pulled an identical sandwich out of a pocket, wrapped in a paper towel. I smiled gratefully. It was great—his mom's homemade jam—and after giving me a swig of milk, we ran about a mile down the beach and stopped.

We looked at each other and nodded enthusiastically. "It's got everything we need, right?" Seth said.

"Yeah, this will do fine. That's the spot you guys cliff dive from, so there's parking up there and it's flat, with access to the main road."

We looked out to sea. The water was churning, a dark slate blue. A storm was coming. My head snapped up as I heard a furious crunch of wheels on rock, and looked up to the overhang to see Charlie's cruiser pull up and screech to a stop.

He slammed his door and ran toward the trees.

"I heard another car, about the same—"

"Me too," I answered.

We clambered up the hill to the flat, and sure enough, the cruiser was parked next to a small red car. It was empty.

Seth and I glanced pulled off our shorts and tucked them in a band tied around our ankles. We both shucked our shoes and bolted into the trees, phasing as we ran.

It was easy to follow the unmistakable scent of the humans. I hoped Charlie wasn't chasing someone. As the scent became stronger, we slowed to a walk, hearing a sickening sound around the bend, where we couldn't see.

Crack. Crack, crack.

We bounded down the path, around the turn, in time to see a skinny, disheveled young man raise a baseball bat in the air, Charlie's crumpled form on the ground below him.

Seth reacted immediately. Before I could frame a single thought, he'd charged the guy. The bat clattered harmlessly to the ground, the man dead on impact, and wholly unrecognizable as a human when Seth was done with him.

But Charlie was in bad shape, bleeding profusely from two massive injuries to his head. He was alive, but barely. I phased back to human, bending low to examine him, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Ohhhh, no, no, no! Charlie!" He lay at an odd angle, blood pouring from two gashes on his forehead. His left arm was...broken seemed like such a friendly word for what was attached to his body. It was mangled.

He must have been struck, fallen on his right side and attempted to defend himself with his left arm. I sank to my knees, knowing he was near death, from loss of blood, if nothing else.

We didn't have anything close to resembling a compress. Seth chucked me his shorts, standing proud and naked. "Jeez, man," I muttered, as I held the cloth firmly to Charlie's wounds, "sit down or something!"

Seth knelt by Charlie. "He's a mess."

"Not as bad as that guy," I gestured with my head to the heap of human behind us.

"What'll we do? Call Edward?"

I thought for a moment at what his suggestion would mean. Charlie would be one of them. Would he want that? And how would Bella feel if he died here on this cold ground, from a meaningless act of violence?

Word on the street was that Bella and Edward were in Alaska with Dr. and Mrs. Cullen. I didn't know about the remaining two couples. I debated calling 9-1-1, but hesitated. If a Cullen was available, I needed that option, as much as I hated it, to save Charlie's life.

I owed Bella that much.

I grabbed my phone from the pocket of my shorts, still attached to my ankle. The leeches were still on speed dial, thank god. It took a few moments to make a connection, and finally, finally, it began to ring. One ring, then two...

"Hello, Jacob," Edward's soft voice answered. "What can I—"

"Hey. Sorry. We got trouble here. Any of your family in town?"

His answer dashed my hopes. "No. We're all here in Alaska. What—"

"Charlie," I breathed. Quickly I relayed what had happened and Edward swore softly.

"Bella can't travel yet. Any one of us could come back but it's a three hour flight, plus a couple hours to get to the airport, and a couple of hours to get from SeaTac to Forks."

"Seven hours," I whispered frantically. "He doesn't have that long! Edward, he's dying."

"And you called me to see if one of us could...change him?" He sounded incredulous.

"Yeah. For Bella. "There were a few seconds of silence as he pondered those words, then I said, "Gotta go. I'll let you know what happens." I snapped my phone shut and handed it to Seth, who dropped it in the leather pouch at his ankle.

I gripped Charlie's hand, thinking of the dream, the prophecy, wondering how it all tied together. I closed my eyes and waited for the magic to reveal itself to me, waited as Charlie's life blood oozed from his wounds onto the ground and the rocks beneath him.

I went over it in my head again. The dream, flying over Forks, the beach at La Push...the very stretch of beach below us...to sit at Charlie's house as he drove quickly away...the trees, all changing as we soared through them, transforming before our eyes...

Damn! What did it mean?

And then I knew. The warmth of the knowledge flowed into me, and through me, and in that moment I was the leader of my people, and the power and magic were revealed.

The sire's blood will stain the sacred ground and the tribe will claim him as their own.

"Hey, give me your knife," I said quickly, looking over to see Seth fetch it out of its leather pouch. He handed it wordlessly to me with wide eyes.

In the time honored tradition of living in this corner of the world, it began to rain. Huge drops fell on us, washing away the stain of blood from the rocks and from Charlie's gaunt face.

"Hold on, Charlie, and we'll see how this works," I said, as I drew the knife up and into the air, the rain shimmering down the blade, washing it clean.

At the first streak of lightning with its attendant crash of thunder I brought the knife down and Seth jumped. "Hey!" he hollered.

"What are you doing?"