ELSA'S POV

I wasn't sure what the hell I was doing here.

Was I trying to undo all the progress I'd made? Had I turned masochistic—developed a taste for torture? I should have gone straight down to La Push. Being down there with Honeymaren was much, much healthier for me. This was not a healthy thing to do.

But I continued to drive slowly down the overgrown lane, twisting through the trees that arched over me like a green, living tunnel. My hands were shaking, so I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.

I knew part of the reason; I knew that I was looking for something. I wasn't looking for her. At least I didn't think I was. I was looking for closure, for the thing she had taken from me.

Maybe the strange sense of repetition I'd felt at school, the coincidence of the date, was spurring me on. The feeling that I was starting over, that I needed to start over, was burning inside me and I knew I wouldn't be able to start over unless I found true closure. Maybe I'd find it out here.

It was unfair of her to do that, to take everything away from me and disappear. It was like I was trying to finish the chapter of a book but someone had pulled out the last page. The words ran through my head, tonelessly, like I was reading them rather than hearing them spoken:

It will be as if I never existed.

There was another reason. A reason I didn't want to admit to myself because it wasn't healthy—it wasn't conducive to moving on.

I wanted to hear her voice again, like I had in the strange delusion Friday night. For that brief moment, when her voice came from some other part of me than my conscious memory, when her voice was perfect and honey smooth rather than the pale echo my memories usually produced, I was able to remember without pain. It wasn't okay, it wasn't heathy, but that fleeting moment when I could hear her again was an irresistible lure. I wanted to find a way to repeat the experience.

I theorized that déjà vu was the key.

So I was going to her home, a place I hadn't been since my ill-fated birthday party, so many months ago.

The thick, almost jungle-like growth crawled slowly past my windows. The drive wound on and on. I started to go faster, getting edgy. How long had I been driving? Shouldn't I have reached the house yet? The lane was so overgrown that it did not look familiar.

What if I couldn't find it? I didn't want to get lost in the woods… again.

Then there was the break in the trees that I was looking for, only it was not so pronounced as before. The flora here did not wait long to reclaim any land that was left unguarded. The tall ferns had infiltrated the meadow around the house, crowding against the trunks of the cedars, even the wide porch. It was like the lawn had been flooded—waist hight—with green, feathery waves.

And there was the house, but it was not the same. Though nothing had changed on the outside, the emptiness screamed from the blank windows. It was creepy. For the first time since I'd seen the beautiful house, it looked like a fitting haunt for vampires.

I hit the brakes, looking away. I was only hurting myself, so why was I here?

And nothing happened. No voice in my head.

I sighed to myself. I left the engine running and jumped out into the fern sea. What was I doing? Why was I doing this to myself?

I approached the barren, vacant face slowly, my truck rumbling out a comforting roar behind me. I stopped when I got to the porch stairs, because there was nothing here. No lingering sense of presence… of anyone's presence. The house was solidly here, but it meant little. Its concrete reality would not help anything.

I didn't go any closer. I didn't go any closer. I didn't want to look in the windows. I wasn't sure which would be harder to see. If the rooms were bare, echoing empty from floor to ceiling, that would certainly hurt. Like my grandmother's funeral, when my mother had insisted that I stay outside during the viewing. She had said that I didn't need to see Gran that way, to remember her that way, rather than alive.

But wouldn't it be worse if there were no change? If the couches sat just as I'd last seen them, the paintings on the walls— worse still, the piano on its low platform? It would be second only to the house disappearing all together, to see that there was no physical possession that tied them in anyway. That everything remained, untouched and forgotten, behind them.

Just like me.

I turned my back on the house and hurried back to my truck. I nearly ran. I was anxious to be gone, to get back to the human world—to the world that was healthy for me. I didn't want to dwell here, I didn't want to hurt myself with these memories. I was done with this house and the family that had once lived there. I had a life to live. I realized how badly I wanted to see Honeymaren. I pushed my truck as fast as it would go as a barreled down to La Push.

Honeymaren was waiting for me. I instantly felt better as soon as I saw her.

"Hey, Elsa," she called.

I smiled in relief. "Hey, Honeymaren." I waved at Billy, who was looking out the window.

Honeymaren pulled me into one of her amazing hugs, before she set me down he whispered in my ear in a low but eager voice, "let's get to work."

I laughed as she released me from the hug. "You seriously aren't sick of me yet?"

Honeymaren grinned and grabbed my hand, leading the way around the house to his garage.

"Nope. Not yet."

"Please let me know when I start getting on your nerves. I don't want to be a pain."

"Okay." she laughed, a throaty sound. "I wouldn't hold your breath for that, though."

When we arrived into the garage, I was shocked to see the red bike standing up, looking like a motorcycle rather than a pile of jagged metal.

"Honeymaren, you're amazing," I breathed.

she laughed again. "I get obsessive when I have a project." she shrugged, letting go of my hand and wandering over to the bikes. "If I had any brains I'd drag it out a little bit."

"Why?"

she looked down, pausing for so long that I wondered if she hadn't heard my question. Finally, she asked me, "Elsa, if I told you that I couldn't fix these bikes, what would you say?"

I was confused for a moment and I didn't answer right away, and he glanced up to check my expression.

"I would say… that's too bad, but I'll bet we could figure out something else to do. If we got really desperate, we could even do homework."

Honeymaren smiled, and her shoulders relaxed. she sat down next to the bike and picked up a wrench. "So you think you'll still come over when I'm done, then?"

"Is that what you meant?" I shook my head. "I guess I am taking advantage of your very underpriced mechanical skills. But as long as you let me come over, I'll be here."

"Hoping to see Quil again?" she teased.

"You caught me."

she chuckled. "You really like spending time with me?" she asked, marveling.

"I do. Very, very much. And I'll prove it. I have to work tomorrow, but Wednesday we'll do something non-mechanical."

"Like what?"

"I have no idea. We can go to my place so you won't be tempted to be obsessive. You could bring your schoolwork—you have to be getting behind, because I know I am."

"Homework might be a good idea." She made a face, and I wondered how much she was leaving undone to be with me.

"Yes," I agreed. "We'll have to start being responsible occasionally, or Billy and Agnarr aren't going to be so easygoing about this." I made a gesture indicating the two of us as a single entity. He liked that—he beamed. I smiled.

"Homework once a week?" she proposed.

"Maybe we'd better go with twice," I suggested, thinking of the pile I'd just been assigned today.

she sighed a heavy sigh. Then he reached over his toolbox to a paper grocery sack. she pulled out two cans of soda, cracking one open and handing it to me. she opened the second, and held it up ceremoniously.

"Here's to responsibility," she toasted. "Twice a week."

"And recklessness every day in between," I toasted back.

she grinned and touched her can to mine.

I got home later than I'd planned and found Agnarr had ordered a pizza rather than wait for me. He wouldn't let me apologize.

"I don't mind," she assured me. "You deserve a break from all the cooking, anyway."

I knew she was just relieved that I was getting on with my life, and she was not about to rock the boat.

I checked my e-mail before I started on my homework, and there was a long one from Iduna. She gushed over every detail I'd provided her with, so I happily sent back another exhaustive description of my day. Everything but the motorcycles. Even happy-go-lucky Iduna was likely to be alarmed by that.

School Tuesday had its ups and downs. Jeremy, Angela, and Makayla all seemed ready to welcome me back with open arms—to forgive me for my few months of rude behavior. Everyone else was still wary; Logan especially seemed to be ramping up the unpleasantness.

Makayla was animated and chatty at work. It was like she'd stored up the semester's worth of talk, and it was all spilling out now. I found that I was able to smile and laugh with her, though it wasn't the same as it was with Kristoff. It seemed harmless enough, until quitting time.

Makaula put the closed sign in the window while I folded my vest and shoved it under the counter.

"This was fun tonight," Makayla said happily.

"Yeah, it was," I agreed with a smile.

"It's too bad that you didn't enjoy the movie last week."

I was a little confused by her train of though. I shrugged. "I'm just a wimp, I guess."

"What I mean is, you should go to a better movie, something you'd enjoy," she explained.

"Oh," I muttered, still confused.

"Like maybe this Friday. With me. We could go see something that isn't scary at all."

I bit my lip.

I didn't want to screw things up with Makayla, not when things had just gotten back to normal. And this, again, felt far too familiar. Like when I had first come to Forks. I wished I had Jeremy as an excuse this time.

"Like a date?" I asked. Honesty was probably the best policy at this point. Get it over with.

She processed the tone of my voice. "If you want. But it doesn't have to be like that."

"I don't… I just… I don't date," I said awkwardly, even though dating again would probably be healthy I just didn't see Makayla that way.

"Just as friends?" she suggested. Her clear blue eyes were not as eager now. I hoped she really meant that we could be friends anyway.

"That would be fun. But I actually have plans already this Friday, so maybe next Friday?"

"What are you doing?" she asked, less casually than I think she wanted to sound.

"Homework. I have a… study session planned with a friend."

"Oh. Okay. Maybe next Friday."

She walked me to my car, less exuberant than before. It definitely reminded me of my first month in Forks. I'd come full circle, and now everything felt like an echo.

The next night, Agnarr didn't seem the smallest bit surprised to find Honeymaren and me sprawled across the living floor with our books scattered around us, so I guessed that he and Billy were talking behind our backs.

"Hey, kids," he said, his eyes straying to the kitchen. The smell of the lasagna I'd spent the afternoon making—while Honeymaren watched and occasionally sampled—wafted down the hall; I was being good, trying to atone for all the pizza.

Honeymaren stayed for dinner, and took a plate home for Billy. He grudgingly added another year to my negotiable age for being a good cook.

Friday was the garage, and Saturday, after my shift at Newton's, was homework again. Agnarr spent the day fishing with Harry, and when he got back, we were all done—feeling very sensible and mature about it, too—and watching Monster Garage on the Discovery Channel.

"I probably ought to go." Honeymaren sighed. "It's later than I though."

"Okay, fine," I grumbled. "I'll take you home."

she laughed at my unwilling expression—it seemed to please her.

"Tomorrow, back to work," she said as soon as we were safe in the truck.

"Okay," I smiled. "What time do you want me to come up?"

There was an unexplained excitement in his answering smile. "I'll call you first, okay?"

"Sure." I frowned to myself, wondering what was up. His smile widened.

I cleaned the house the next morning—waiting for Honeymaren to call and trying to shake of the latest nightmare. The scenery had changed. Last night I'd wandered in a wide sea of ferns interspersed with huge hemlock trees. There was nothing else there, and I was lost, wandering aimless and alone, searching for nothing. I wanted to kick myself for the stupid field trip last week. I shoved the dream out of my conscious mind, hoping it would stay locked up somewhere and not escape again.

Agnarr was outside washing the cruiser, so when my phone rang, I dropped the toilet brush and scrambled to answer it.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.

"Elsa," Honeymaren said, a strange, formal tone to his voice.

"Hey, Honeymaren."

"I believe that… we have a date," she said, her tone thick with implications.

It took me a second before I got it. "They're done? I can't believe it!" I felt my excitement bubble up.

"Yeah, they run and everything."

"Maren, you are absolutely, without a doubt, the most talented and wonderful person I know. You get ten years for this one."

"Cool! I'm middle-aged now."

I laughed. "I'm on my way up!"

I threw the cleaning supplies under the bathroom counter and grabbed my jacket.

"Headed to see Honeymaren," Agnarr said when I ran past him. It wasn't really a question.

"Yep," I smiled as I jumped in my truck.

"I'll be at the station later," Agnarr called after me.

"Okay," I yelled back, turning the key.

Agnarr said something else, but I couldn't hear him clearly over the roar of the engine. It sounded sort of like, "Where's the fire?"

I parked my truck off to the side of the Blacks' house, close to the trees, to make it easier for us to sneak the bikes out. When I got out, a splash of color caught my eye—two shiny motorcycles, one red, one black, were hidden under a spruce, invisible from the house. Honeymaren was prepared.

There was a piece of blue ribbon tied in a small bow around each of the handlebars. I was laughing at that when Honeymaren ran out of the house.

"Ready?" she asked in a low voice, her eyes sparkling.

I glanced over her shoulder, and there was no sign of Billy.

"Yeah," I said, but I didn't feel quite as excited as before; I was trying to imagine myself actually on the motorcycle.

Honeymaren loaded the bikes into the bed of the truck with ease, laying them carefully on their sides so they didn't show.

"Let's go," she said, her voice higher than usual with excitement. "I know the perfect spot—no one will catch us there."

We drove south out of town. The dirt road wove in and out of the forest—sometimes there was nothing but trees, and then there would suddenly be a breathtaking glimpse of the Pacific Ocean, reaching to the horizon, dark gray under the clouds. We were above the shore, on top of the cliffs that bordered the beach here, and the view seemed to stretch on forever.

I was driving slowly, so that I could safely stare out across the ocean now and then, as the road wound closer to the sea cliffs. Honeymaren was talking about finishing the bikes, but his descriptions were getting technical, so I was having trouble understanding.

That was when I noticed four figures standing on a rocky ledge, much to close to the precipice. I couldn't tell from the distance how old they were, but I assumed they were men. Despite the chill in the air today, they seemed to be wearing only shorts.

As I watched, the tallest person stepped closer to the brink. I slowed automatically, my foot hesitating over the brake pedal.

And then he threw himself off the edge.

"No!" I shouted, stomping down on the brake.

"What's wrong?" Honeymaren shouted back, alarmed.

"That guy—he just jumped off the cliff! Why didn't they stop him? We've got to call an ambulance!" I threw open my door and started to get out, frantically trying to pull my phone out of the pocket of my jeans. I couldn't believe what I'd just seen. Maybe I hoped I would see something different without the glass of the windshield in the way.

Honeymaren laughed, and I spun to stare at her wildly. How could she laugh at this?

"They're just cliff diving, Elsa. Recreation. La Push doesn't have a mall, you know."she was teasing, but there was a strange note of irritation in her voice.

"Cliff diving?" I repeated, dazed. I stared in disbelief as a second figure stepped to the edge, paused, and then very gracefully leaped into space. she fell for what seemed like an eternity to me, finally cutting smoothly into the dark gray waves below.

"Wow. It's so high." I slid back into my seat, still staring wide-eyed at the two remaining divers. "It must be a hundred feet."

"Well, yeah, most of us jump from lower down, that rock that juts out from the cliff about halfway." He pointed out his window. The place he indicated did seem much more reasonable. "Those guys are insane. Probably showing off how tough they are. I mean, really, it's freezing today. That water can't feel good." He made a disgruntled face, as if the stunt personally offended him. It surprised me a little. I would have thought Kristoff was nearly impossible to upset.

"You jump off the cliff?" I hadn't missed the "us."

"Sure, sure." she shrugged and grinned. "It's fun. A little scary, kind of a rush."

I looked back at the cliffs, where the third figure was pacing the edge. I'd never witnessed anything so reckless in all my life. I felt a curious itch in the back of my mind. "Honeymaren, do you think we could try cliff diving?"

she frowned back at me, her face disapproving. "Elsa, you just wanted to call an ambulance for Kristoff," he reminded me. I was surprised that she could tell who it was from this distance.

"I don't know, it just looks so cool… I kind of want to try," I shrugged.

Honeymaren nudged my arm. "Not today, all right? Can we at least wait for a warmer day?"

"Okay, fine," I agreed. With the door open, the glacial breeze was raising goose bumps on my arm. "Could we try soon?"

"Soon." she rolled her eyes. "Sometimes you're a little strange, Elsa. Do you know that?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"And we're not jumping off the top."

I watched, fascinated, as the third boy made a running start and flung himself farther into the empty air than the other two. she twisted and cartwheeled through space as she fell, like she was skydiving. she looked absolutely free—unthinking and utterly alive.

"Fine," I agreed. "not the first time, anyway."

Now Honeymaren sighed.

"Are we going to try out the bikes or not?" she demanded.

"Of course! We have a date to get to." I grinned. This made her smile again. I put my seat belt back on and closed the door. The engine was still running, roaring as it idled. We started down the road again.

"So who were those guys—the crazy ones?" I wondered.

she made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. "The La Push gang."

"You have a gang?" I asked. I realized that I sounded impressed.

she laughed once at my reaction. "Not like that. I swear, they're like hall monitors gone bad. They don't start fights, they keep the peace." He snorted. "There was this guy from up somewhere by the Makah rez, big guy too, scary-looking. Well, word got around that he was selling meth to kids, and Kristoff Uley and his disciples ran him off our land. They're all about our land, and tribe pride… it's getting ridiculous. The worst part is that the council takes them seriously. Sven said that the council actually meets with Kristoff." He shook his head, face full of resentment. "Sven also heard from Liam Clearwater that they call themselves 'protectors' or something like that."

Honeymaren's hands were clenched into fists, as if he'd like to hit something. I'd never seen this side of him.

I was surprised to hear Kristoff Uley's name. I didn't want it to bring back the images from my nightmare, so I made a quick observation to distract myself. "You don't like them very much."

"Does it show?" she asked sarcastically.

"Well… It doesn't sound like they're doing anything bad." I tried to soothe her to make her cheerful again. "Just sort of annoyingly goody-two-shoes for a gang."

"Yeah. Annoying is a good word. They're always showing off— like the cliff thing. They act like… like, I don't know. Like tough guys. I was hanging out at the store with Sven and Quil once, last semester, and Kristoff came by with his followers, Jared and Paul. Quil said something, you know how he's got a big mouth, and it pissed Paul off. His eyes got all dark, and he sort of smiled— no, he showed his teeth but he didn't smile—and it was like he was so mad he was shaking or something. But Kristoff put his hand against Paul's chest and shook his head. Paul looked at him for a minute and calmed down. Honestly, it was like Kristoff was holding him back—like Paul was going to tear us up if Sam didn't stop him." He groaned. "Like a bad western. You know, Kristoff's a pretty big guy, he's twenty. But Paul's just seventeen, too, shorter than me and not as beefy as Quil. I think any one of us could take him."

"Tough guys," I agreed. I could see it in my head as he described it, and it reminded me of something… a trio of tall, dark men standing very still and close together in my father's living room. The picture was sideways, because my head was lying against the couch while Dr. Gerandy and Agnarr leaned over me…. Had that been Kristoff's gang?

I spoke quickly again to divert myself from those memories. "Isn't Kristoff a little too old for this kind of thing?"

"Yeah. he was supposed to go to college, but he stayed. And no one gave him any crap about it, either. The whole council pitched a fit when my sister turned down a partial scholarship and got married. But, oh no, Kristoff Uley can do no wrong."

Her face was set in unfamiliar lines of outrage—outrage and something else I didn't recognize at first.

"It all sounds really annoying and… strange. But I don't get why you're taking it all so personally." I peeked over at her face, hoping I hadn't offended him. she was suddenly calm, staring out the side window.

"You just missed the turn," she said in an even voice.

I executed a very wide U-turn, nearly hitting a tree as my circle ran the truck halfway off the road.

"Thanks for the heads-up," I muttered as I started up the side road.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

It was quiet for a brief minute.

"You can stop anywhere along here," she said softly.

I pulled over and cut the engine. My ears rang in the silence that followed. We both got out, and Honeymaren headed around to the back to get the bikes. I tried to read her expression. Something more was bothering him. I'd hit a nerve.

she smiled halfheartedly as he pushed the red bike to my side. "Happy late birthday. Are you ready for this?"

"I think so." The bike suddenly looked intimidating, frightening, as I realized I would soon be astride it.

"We'll take it slow," she promised. I gingerly leaned the motorcycle against the truck's fender while she went to get her

"Honeymaren…" I hesitated as she came back around the truck.

"Yeah?"

"What's really bothering you? About the Kristoff thing, I mean? Is there something else?" I watched her face. she grimaced, but she didn't seem angry. Hsh looked at the dirt and kicked his shoe against the front tire of his bike again and again, like she was keeping time.

she sighed. "It's just… the way they treat me. It creeps me out." The words started to rush out now. "You know, the council is supposed to be made up of equals, but if there was a leader, it would be my dad. I've never been able to figure out why people treat him the way they do. Why opinion counts the most. It's got something to do with his father and his father's father. My great-grandpa, Ephraim Black, was sort of the last chief we had, and they still listen to Billy, maybe because of that.

"But I'm just like everyone else. Nobody treats me special… until now."

That caught me off guard. "Kristoff treats you special?"

"Yeah," she agreed, looking up at me with troubled eyes. "She looks at me like he's waiting for something… like I'm going to join his stupid gang someday. she pays more attention to me than any of the other guys. I hate it."

"You don't have to join anything." My voice was angry. This was really upsetting Maren, and that infuriated me. Who did these "protectors" think they were?

"Yeah." Her foot kept up its rhythm against the tire.

"What?" I could tell there was more.

She frowned, her eyebrows pulling up in a way that looked sad and worried rather than angry. "It's Sven. He's been avoiding me lately."

The thoughts didn't seem connected, but I wondered if I was to blame for the problems with his friend. "You've been hanging out with me a lot," I reminded him, feeling selfish. I'd been monopolizing him.

"No, that's not it. It's not just me— it's Quil, too, and everyone. Sven missed a week of school, but he was never home when we tried to see him. And when he came back, he looked… he looked freaked out. Terrified. Quil and I both tried to get him to tell us what was wrong, but he wouldn't talk to either one of us."

I stared at Honeymaren, biting my lip anxiously— he was really frightened. But she didn't look at me. Hsh watched her own foot kicking the rubber as if it belonged to someone else. The tempo increased.

"Then this week, out of nowhere, Sven's hanging out with Sam and the rest of them. He was out on the cliffs today." Her voice was low and tense.

she finally looked at me. "Elsa, they bugged him even more than they bother me. He didn't want anything to do with them. And now Sven's following Kristoff around like he's joined a cult. "And that's the way it was with Paul. Just exactly the same. He wasn't friends with Kristoff at all. Then he stopped coming to school for a few weeks, and, when he came back, suddenly Kristoff owned him. I don't know what it means. I can't figure it out, and I feel like I have to, because Sven's my friend and… Kristoff looking at me funny… and…" He trailed off.

"Have you talked to Billy about this?" I asked. His horror was spreading to me. I had chills running on the back of my neck.

Now there was anger on his face. "Yes," she snorted. "That was helpful."

"What did he say?"

Honeymaren's expression was sarcastic, and when she spoke, her voice mocked the deep tones of her father's voice. "It's nothing you need to worry about now, Honeymaren. In a few years, if you don't… well, I'll explain later." And then his voice was her own. "What am I supposed to get from that? Is he trying to say it's some stupid puberty, coming-of-age thing? This is something else. Something wrong."

she was biting his lower lip and clenching her hands. she looked like he was about to cry. I threw my arms around her instantly, wrapping them around her waist and pressing my face against her chest. she was so big, I felt so small in comparison.

"Honeymaren, it'll be okay!" I promised. "If it gets worse you can come live with me and Agnarr. Don't be scared, we'll think of something!"

she was frozen for a second, and then his long arms wrapped hesitantly around me. "Thanks, Elsa." Her voice was huskier than usual.

We stood like that for a moment, and it didn't upset me; in fact, I felt comforted by the contact. It had been a long time since someone had embraced me this way. Honeymaren was very warm, and this felt… right.

It was strange, being this close—emotionally and physically to someone—I hadn't been these close to anyone in so long. I didn't mind it at all. In fact, I kind of enjoyed it.

"If this is how you're going to react, I'll freak out more often." Honeymaren's voice was light, normal again, and his laughter rumbled against my ear. Her fingers touched my hair, soft and tentative. I sighed contentedly against his chest. I had never noticed the way Honeymaren smelled before. It was a masculine, woodsy scent—pleasant and warm.

I leaned back and smiled up at her

"It's hard to believe I'm a year younger than you," I sighed, "you make me feel so small."

"You're forgetting I'm in my forties, of course."

"Oh, that's right."

she ruffled my hair. "You're like a little doll," she teased. "A porcelain doll."

I rolled my eyes and stepped away. "Okay, now, watch it. I'm not that pale."

"Seriously, Elsa, you're pretty pale." she stretched her russet arm out next to mine. The difference wasn't flattering. "I've never seen anyone paler than you… well, except for—" she broke off, and my eyes widened.

"So are we going to ride or what?" she said, awkwardly.

"Let's do it," I agreed. I realized something surprising. Her unfinished sentence made me realize that I hadn't been thinking of her at all.