It takes less time than I'd really hoped for. But I give the woman my debit card and leave the cab, rushing into the airport. The minutes are ticking by to the beat of my heart. Boom. I have a ticket. Boom. It'll be taking off for Phoenix in a half-hour. Boom. I go to the gift shop and buy cheap cologne and a hoodie, keeping them in the bag until I reach the bathroom. Boom. I spray the hoodie down with the cologne and then strip off my shirt, tossing it in the trashcan before dousing myself in the scent-hiding poison. Boom. I'm dressed in an unfamiliar shirt and smell like a 40-year-old.
I wonder if Alex and Jasmine have realized what I've done yet. Are they following my scent? I pull my hood up and sit as close to the terminal entrance as possible. Will my measures really hide my escape? Should I have kept my cellphone with me just in case? I could have told Jacob, he deserves to know.
They all deserve to know.
So much for no regrets
I pull out my journal and start writing to Charlie. Apologizing. Begging for forgiveness. Asking her to bury me with red roses instead of yellow or pink. For her not to take her pain out on the Cullens, and to let them go wherever they want. For her to propose to Billie and be happy. And to tell Dad that I died in an accident. That I want to be cremated, so he doesn't have to see how broken I will be. To protect whatever boy Jane has stolen from his home.
I barely hear them announce the flight to San Francisco.
A slight delay in my travel. The attendant says we'll have thirty minutes before taking back off once we land, so I won't even bother getting off the plane. Less of a scent trail to leave. I wonder if vampires can smell through steel.
I bury myself in the window seat, pressing my forehead against the walls of the plane and closing the blind to keep the light from hurting me. Two people sit beside me — warmth, human — and start their own conversations about the landmarks and restaurants they visit when they land.
As the hours go by, they stop, one even going to sleep. But the one next to me, who I now can tell is a boy around my age, looks over at me and smiles.
"So, what are your plans in San Francisco?"
"I uh ... I'm actually going to Phoenix to visit my mom."
"Divorced parents?" The sympathy in his voice makes my heart pang with guilt. I nod slowly, looking away. "I get that, my dad left papa a couple years ago. I see him on the weekends, but he's busy with his job, and I don't wanna be a bother. Things will get better, you'll see." He wrinkles his nose when he smiles, and his flawless umber skin makes Ezra's beautiful, caring face flash before my eyes.
I hope he and Clarice will be able to help my mom after this.
He goes back to his father after offering me an affirmation, becoming background music to my s drawing in the journal. Even the turbulence can't make my stomach anymore twisted than it already is. It's been over an hour since I left. If Alex and Jasmine aren't aware of my absence by now, then my chances of survival have just decreased to near zero.
Though I don't really think I'll live to see tomorrow, anyway.
I pull out the book I got from Mrs. Byrne and start reading the chapter of mental shields one more time. Anything to extend my lifespan will also give Charlie the chance to escape, maybe even get her gun back from Jane. Being able to hold my shield up, like when she attacked me in the woods, would be an awesome tool to use against her. Though ... with one hand still out of commission, it will be a lot more difficult. But I'll try. For Charlie's sake.
Nine hours later, I'm on familiar ground. Phoenix, Arizona — where I'm suddenly in deep suffering in this hoodie — is just as dry, hot, and bright as my memory made it out to be. I hail a cab and give the person my father's address.
"That's in Scottsdale," they tell me, as though I don't already know. I pull out sixty dollars' worth of bills and hold them up. With a pause, they turn on the meter and takes off, playing soft country music as we go down the road. "So, you have family here?"
Fucking hell, what is it with random people asking me about my life today?
"Yeah, my dad, actually. I'm going back to his place after visiting my mom for a while." I speak casually, them nodding with a smile.
"It's good to see a kid so happy to see his parents. We'll be in the car for a bit, so get comfortable." I lean back in the seat and cross my legs. The familiar city rushes around me, melting into a solid quicksilver mass. It takes all I can to stay calm in front of the happily ignorant cabby, and focus on keeping my shield around my good hand, the shimmer barely visible thanks to my sleeve.
I won't lose my head at this point. I'm too far in to consider pulling back. I lean forward and ask the driver to turn the AC up, closing my eyes for the rest of the twenty-minute drive. I imagine I stayed with Alex and Jasmine, telling Edythe of what Jane sent me. How quickly and gracefully she would have rushed to Phoenix, taking Jane by surprise and ending my mother's life before she had a chance to save her. And I, now without reason or ability to stay in Forks, would find myself in the arms of my father, traveling the country without knowing when I'll ever see her or my friends again.
I wonder where she would have taken me if we hid. Maybe to the Denali clan, the allies Clarice mentioned a couple days ago. Or maybe we'd travel west, where populations thin the deeper in the forest you go. And she would never have to worry about showing herself in the daylight. And we would lie out in the sun together, and she wouldn't have to be afraid of me running or thinking her a monster. After all, what kind of monster goes to such lengths to protect their boyfriend?
"What was the number again?" The cabby asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
"5821," I say, sitting up straight. They look back at me with creased eyebrows and a nervous sheen of sweat on their forehead. I know how I must look to them, having a little episode in the back seat of their cab. I don't blame them for eyeballing me. Knowing my outfit and smell, I likely seem insane.
"Alright, here we are." I nod, leaving the car with a soft thanks.
I go straight to the eave, where the spare key is hidden, and unlock the stucco house's massive wooden door. The house is dark, with only a few bits of furniture scattered around after their move. But I don't focus on that. I go straight through, to the kitchen in the back, and pick up the offered phone. Beside it is a sticky-note, and a phone number written in a small, neat hand. And a little heart to sign it off.
"Beau, you did well. A lot quicker than I imagined. Impressive."
"How is my mom? And the kid?"
"Oh, I haven't hurt her anymore, I promise. And my lil doll is just fine. Once I'm through with you, she'll be free to go, no problem." She's amused, but something under her voice makes my back straighten. "And are you...?"
"Alone, yes. None of them know where I am."
"Very good! Meet me in the old locker room just around the corner. You know, it's honestly so cute how your father has old photographs of you in your jersey and tights. I wish I could have met him, but oh well. Maybe some other time." She hangs up before I can scream curses at her.
She never mentioned freeing the kid.
I run back into the baking heat, racing from the empty shell I once called home and down the street, avoiding people and cracks in the sidewalk. It makes me sick to think the last person to walk through what was once my sanctuary is the woman who may kill me.
I can almost see my father and I sitting in the shade of the eucalyptus tree in the front yard. Or playing in the dirt around the mailbox where he tried to grow flowers.
No. Don't think about then. Don't worry about then. Memories won't save me from the reality of my situation. I march on, spotting the red brick building just across the street when I round the corner. Every inch of my gait is like running through a quagmire. Sweat pours down my face, down my back, my breathing hard and short. I race through the mud of fear and loathing, and I wish for the protective, lush forests of Forks ... of home.
On the mirrored glass door, there's a sheet of yellow paper, bold print on the front. "CONDEMNED". I look at the decals of flowers painted on the front, the massive windows with the shades drawn. My hand goes to the bar handle, expecting to meet resistance. It opens, and cold air rushes me.
The dark lobby stinks of carpet rot and the musty old air conditioner. On the walls, plastic chairs sit stacked above my head. The doors leading to the field and the rest of the school are shut — but the room to the west is wide open, the lights on. I swallow my fear, flex my fingers, and make my way through the threshold.
In the middle of the room is Charlie, laying on her side, restrained by handcuffs. I scream and run to her, landing hard on my knees to check her over. She's not moving, she's not awake, but she's breathing. She's alive. I cup her cheek and let out a relieved sigh. I hear a muffled scream to my left and turn at just the wrong moment.
A foot lands on her stomach, and she jolts awake with a cry of her own.
"Welcome, Beau!" Jane announces, ripping me away from Charlie. I land on my rear about six feet back. She's clutching a familiar, small body to her side. "Just look at you. Mortal. Fragile. Alone. And all mine to play with. I tell you, it couldn't possibly get better than this!" She picks up Charlie by the shoulder, dropping Jesse on the ground, and smiles. "Recognize him?"
"Beau!" He shouts, running over to me, sliding onto his knees in front of me. "S-she... she's a vam... a vamp..."
"I know. I'm so sorry, I didn't want you to get involved." I say, clutching him to my chest with my good arm. He's trembling, whimpering in fear just out of my vision. I can't look away from Jane, not while she has my mom. I squeeze the back of Jesse's shirt.
"Oh, how sweet," Jane looks at Charlie, a mocking edge to her voice. "Yeah, it only took me a moment to realize that you had a much more palatable friend. And to think, you only came here for her." She drops Charlie then and goes to me, kneeling an inch from my face. "You know what I want?"
"Me. Dead. And if you get that, you'll let them go free?" I hear Charlie groaning out her protests, and Jane lets out a scoff in disgust.
"Please try to be polite back there. It's rude to interrupt." Jane shakes her head, biting her lower lip as she looks me over. "You know, you're the second one of your kind I've come across. Not a witch, no. But a Singer. Very rare, you are. Especially since you appear to sing to more than one vampire. That red-haired woman, Edythe ... ah, now there is a vampire Anne Rice would cream over."
"You're disgusting!"
"Why thank you, sweetie." She grabs my broken wrist and pulls me to my feet, and then off the floor by it. I scream and moan, electric pain shooting down my arm. I don't have time to think, to focus. I pull my good arm back and punch, pushing my shield forward with all my might. The crack of my wrist shattering proves that she went flying away, but the throbbing pain blinds me.
"You little bastard!" Jane rises to her feet, neck cracking back into place, and crouches. Then her hands fly to her cheeks.
I've seen Edythe angry, I've seen her true form forced on her. How she gently helped the façade of humanity fall from her face. I've never seen a vampire reach up and tear her own face off. Blood and transparent chunks of skin hit the floor with a wet thud. She tears at her hands, claws escaping their confines violently.
I watch without breathing across the long room, my eyes narrow and my teeth grinding. I stare into the dark eyes of the hunter, and she looks back at me with a pleasant grin. I'm trembling, but I raise my hands in defense. I am not ready to do this. To face the claws and teeth shimmering in the fluorescent lights. But what choice do I have?
As of now, it's either her or me.
This never would have happened if I stayed with my dad, if I had never even looked in the direction of Forks. I'd be safe. Not facing death. But as terrified as I feel, I can't bring myself to regret every choice that has led to this. To regret ... her.
The hunter smiles in a friendly way as she saunters forward to kill me.
Jane's casual movements contrast my rigid stance, and without Edythe nearby I won't be able to know her moves ahead of time. I watch her feet, seeing that the toes face the direction she is leaning toward. Of course, she's a persistence predator. She's going to try to tire me out.
She lunges at me, and I push her to my right, turning with her falling motion. I feel Jesse grip my shirt from behind, cheering me on even in his panic.
She doesn't land on her face. She turns and balances on her palms, pushing back up to her feet. Then she grins.
"You know, your little friend smelled almost as delicious as you do when he was human... all those years in the asylum. Shocked. Beaten. Treated like the Scum of the Earth just because h e had a touch of magic in him. I sensed him from miles away." Licking her lips, Jane rushes me again, and I make a fist, striking her jaw and sending her to my feet. She laughs while I back away, my good arm shielding Jesse, as she slowly rises. "You're a little older than I usually like ... Vincent, he uh ... he's a lot younger than he looks. At least, his body is."
"Shut-up..."
"Ah, but he was nothing compared to little Michael Alexander's scent. I took him just to make up for losing that beautiful, rare delicacy. Now you ... you're floral, almost. Like a forget-me-not. And so much more playful than he would have been. I'm almost glad your pathetic mother shot me. Adds some stakes to the game." She's 180'd me, leaving a direct path to Charlie. To her gun. The one thing in this room that can kill a vampire. "Taking your little friend for my own is just a bonus. A replacement for the toy you stole from me."
Then I do something my brain knows is stupid, but my heart can't help.
I roar, thrusting my hands forward so the electric energy of my shield goes at her full force. Jane's face freezes when her back crashes into the concrete walls. I turn during her distraction and run to Charlie, falling to my knees and picking up the handgun. A weapon custom made for killing vampires...
I cock the hammer and turn to her. She's gone. Not from the room, but from vision. It's too cold in here for her to have vanished without a trace. A soft, red light appears in the corner of my eye and I raise the gun in that direction, firing and making my wrist crack from the pushback.
Right ... it's a .40 caliber. I've only ever shot a .22.
Jane emerges, laughing and holding her stomach, with an old camcorder at her face. She's limping, her leg slowly healing itself where I hit her. I cock the hammer to shoot her again, but she's in my face before I can touch the trigger.
"Now this is what I love to see! The action, the adventure, the thrills. A young man too stubborn for his own damn good, knowing he is going to die." She takes the barrel of the gun and shoves it against her forehead. Even with the thought of it being a trick playing in my brain, I pull the trigger.
And there's nothing.
"She used five of the six bullets when I took her. I saved that for her, actually. Give her a quick death after I tore her son apart from the inside," her eyes flick down my body and slowly run up it, "out. But I guess now I'll just ... slit her throat and leave you both bleeding out on the floor."
"You fucker..." I feel the static build in my hands again, but she's learned her lesson. She snarls and grabs my good wrist tightly. My scream comes out right as my body meets the floor, eyes still locked with her.
"Beau!" Jesse shrieks from the corner.
"You think you're so strong, don't you? Being a natural little witch with a vampire pet at your beck-and-call, and this aged killer at your side." She straddles my legs, free hand walking up my chest to my chin. "But here's the thing, Beau; you're just a pathetic little human at the end of the day. You lost your savior when you told Edythe not to come here. When you actually listened to me, like a naïve child, instead of trusting your vampire friends to take care of me for you. I never could have fought all of them off. You walked right into this! Your death. Her death. His death. And for what?"
Her hand grips my cheeks, tearing the flesh from my eye socket to my jaw.
"Would you like to ... rethink your final request? Telling Edythe to avoid me. To not come here and avenge your untimely death. To save Jesse so he can become like her?" She bites her lip and looks back. Then she presses her knee against my thigh and — the crack is so loud, I don't realize I'm shrieking. "Because eventually she'll find you. And she'll see this, see us," Jane's eyes narrow and he plays with the collar of my hoodie. "Maybe I'll leave an X-rated cut in her bedroom, just to be sure she knows everything. Ahh, but first!" She sets the camera down, aiming toward Jesse. She rushes him, pinning him against the wall.
I hear him scream when her fangs meet his neck, his fingers clawing at her arms and her back. Begging. For mercy. For the pain to stop. To live. She drops him within seconds, leaving him a crumpled mess on the floor.
"No... no!" I take in a deep breath and close my eyes, feeling the shield work its way through me. From my fingers to the air around me. I can almost see the shimmer of reality being distorted by its existence.
I can feel it wrap around Jane's ankle.
I let the breath out and open my eyes. As the air floods out of my lungs, she rises, moving in near slow-motion, until her back crashes into the metal ceiling, creating a massive dent.
I roll as close to Jesse as I can, ignoring every crack of pain that races through my leg and hand. My heart hammers, and the pain flushes away. I stand, though not very straight, and let out a roar while Jane falls to the ground, forcing her away from Charlie and against the wall. The concrete cracks, haloing her confused, coiled body. Sunlight is peaking inside from the broken brick walls.
And that is what she continues to do. Back-and-forth, until the bricks are crumbling, the concrete is nearly powder, and Jane rolls onto the parking-lot, growling and grunting with rage. Even with the risk of exposure, she races toward me, all four limbs on the ground.
The tracker, the hunter, the lion, unlocks her jaw and leaps. And with a backhanded swing of my broken arm, she goes off to my left, breaking the floor with her heavy body. She's down, she's not moving. I take the chance, and I look at Charlie. My rush of excitement at seeing her on her feet, getting her bearings with her gun, takes my attention away from the rush of wind that blows my hair from my eyes.
Not until burning pain shoots through my neck, and the skin of my arms pops like overripe fruit.