O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know'st that Banquo and his Fleance lives.

Of all the Bard's works, Macbeth was Beau's favorite. He loved diving into the madness and bloody squabbling for the throne. Normally, the tragedy was more than enough to hold his concentration, but not today.

Today Beau sat listening for the roar of Big Red, knowing that the engine was impossible to disguise. No sound betrayed the truck's arrival. But when he pulled back the curtains one last time, it was there, parked silently as if by witchcraft.

He wasn't looking forward to school on Friday. Not only would a certain person be absent, but he also had to put up with the comments about him fainting. Mike in particular seemed to get a kick out of telling the story. It had the opposite of his intended effect, however, when Jessica and Lauren dissolved into near-tears at the thought of Beau passed out on the cement. Beau chalked it up to low blood sugar and thanked Mike sincerely for helping him get to the nurse before his condition worsened. Mike, scowling and wittily outmatched, left it at that.

"So what did Edward Cullen want yesterday?" Jessica asked in Trig.

Beau thought the blood sugar story bought him a few moments of peace. He closed his eyes for a second, as if tired by her line of questioning.

"We talked about theories . . . for Biology. Banner is giving us a test next week." It was as good a lie as any.

"That's all? You looked kind of mad at him."

He shrugged. "Did I?"

"You know, I've never seen him sit with anyone but his family before. That was weird."

"Weird," Beau agreed, watching the impatience brewing on her face. Deprived of the information she wanted, Jessica had no use for him, and he spent a productive hour working on triple angle formulas.

The worst part about the day was even though Beau knew Edward wasn't going to be there, he still hoped, and walked into the cafeteria with Jessica, Mike, and his own mounting anticipation for company. His eyes landed on the Cullen table anyway. Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper looked to be having a serious conversation; Beau had a bad feeling he knew precisely what their discussion regarded. And soon gloom settled into his chest at the realization he had no idea when Edward was coming back. Edward had promised to warn him before starting another cold war, but even so, Beau tried to keep his spirits up, and listened as the lunchtime gang excitedly talked about the beach trip.

Mike assured everyone the weatherman promised sunshine, and since the temperature today had reached sixty, that a cloud-free day was almost a definite. Beau felt he had to see it to believe it, and hoped the trip would be enough to take his mind off Edward.

Charlie seemed enthusiastic at dinner as they discussed the outing to La Push. The chief knew all the kids going to the beach, their parents, and their grandparents, and seemed to approve that Beau had fallen in with the right crowd.

Beau suspected Charlie felt guilty for leaving him alone on the weekends. But the chief spent seventeen years building these habits, and it didn't seem fair for Beau to ask him to break them. He wondered how different it might be, say, if Charlie had a daughter, and if their relationship would change. Or, better yet, if Beau was honest with Charlie about himself and his sexuality. But truth be told, the man said hide nor hair about sexuality in general. Beau thought that might be more of a father thing than a Charlie thing.

And on the topic of secrets, Beau had yet to tell his father about going to Seattle with Edward Cullen. Not that he planned to say anything. So as long as he was playing the dutiful son, Beau felt he was entitled to some privacy about who he spent time with, at least for now.

"Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks? I think it's south of Mount Rainier."

"Yeah, why?"

"Some kids were talking about camping there," Beau said in what he hoped as a casual tone.

"It's not a very good place for camping. Too many bears. Most people go there during hunting season."

"Oh." Beau frowned. "Maybe I got the name wrong."

Bright yellow sunshine woke him the next morning. Beau grinned and turned to study his little succulents. They were blooming under his fluorescent light, but he knew they were craving the real thing, just like him. Beau set the plants on his windowsill so they could get the afternoon sunlight later.

Newtons' Olympic Outfitters stood just north of town. Beau pulled up next to Mike's Suburban and Tyler's new Sentra, scanning the group gathering in the parking lot. Most of his classmates were already there—Eric, Ben, Conner, along with Jessica, Angela, and Lauren. Lee, the other fainting boy from Biology, was also there, and a few others Beau recognized from the cafeteria. When he climbed out of the truck, Jessica hurried over to him, beaming.

"You came! We told you it would be sunny."

Mike joined them beside Big Red. "We're just waiting on a few more . . . unless you invited someone."

"Nope," Beau lied, adjusting the brim of his hat, and the other boy looked satisfied by this answer. Mike liked to be number one, even if it meant sharing Jessica. Today he must have felt generous in his victory, because he awarded shotgun to Beau, who wedged Jessica in the middle in an effort to appease both of them. Her hand would drift to his knee every time the car braked, but mostly, Mike held her attention for the length of the drive.

It was only a fifteen minute ride to La Push. The road was lined with dense, green forests and ran alongside the Quillayute River. Beau was glad of the window seat, studying the greenery as they passed. The trees made his succulents look microscopic in comparison.

He'd been to the seaside area around La Push dozens of times with Charlie. The mile-long crescent of First Beach stirred up memories of the dark water, soaring cliffs, and bone-white driftwood dotting the shoreline. Beau stuck his hand out of the window and let the sunlight catch his skin as they drove. Far out in the distance, seagulls and surfers skimmed the waves, joined occasionally by random, vertical puffs of water by the migrating gray whales. He hoped to see one of them breach the surface before the day was done.

Beau joined the rest of the boys who were gathering branches for kindling. Supplies were hauled from the cars and soon a campsite emerged. Mike lit a driftwood fire for Jessica's benefit, who politely ooh-ed and aah-ed for his efforts. Later, Beau broke away from the large group, taking the opportunity to hike to the tide pools with a few others.

He found a stable-looking rock and laid flat on his stomach, spellbound by the natural aquarium below. There were sea anemones in every color—violet, yellow, and soft white; motionless starfish that shivered at his touch; shells warped by the frequent push and pull of the water. Though completely absorbed, a small part of his mind wondered what Edward was doing now, and what they might talk about if here together.

The group left behind on the beach had multiplied with newcomers from the reservation when they returned. Beau sat down next to Angela as food and sodas came around the circle. Beau shot a significant glance in Ben's direction; the other boy was sitting alone and chowing down on two double hamburgers. His new friend only smiled mysteriously, reached for her Coke, and said nothing at all. Beau took her lead and they ate in a comfortable silence.

Beau thought about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks since he arrived. Sometimes it was a blur; some days, single images stood out more clearly than others. He knew exactly what caused the difference, and that fact was disturbing. Beau was starting to feel like one of the shells he saw in the tide pools—warped by the push and pull of pressure around him.

The group split off after lunch. Some gathered for a second tide pool expedition; others, including Mike and Jessica, took off for the lone shop in the village. Lauren and Tyler occupied themselves by the CD player someone had thought to bring. Beau sat alone on the driftwood log, watching the blue flames leap and crackle. Though he had his doubts for the day, for once, he was happy to be wrong.

A younger boy from the reservation joined him a few minutes later. He had a familiar face, with long, glossy black hair and dark eyes.

"You're Beaufort Swan, aren't you?"

"Beau," he corrected him, taking the other boy's extended hand. "Do I know you?"

"I'm Jacob Black. You bought my dad's truck."

"Oh, right!" Beau laughed, embarrassed. "You're Billy's son. I probably should remember you, huh?"

"Nah, I'm the youngest of the family—you probably would remember my older sisters."

"The twins," Beau nodded. "Sure. Are they here?"

Charlie and Billy had thrown their families together a lot back then. Beau remembered both he and the girls were too shy to make much progress as friends. He also recalled another person in the Black house—Sarah, Billy's wife, and mother to Rachel, Rebecca, and Jacob. She died in a car accident around the same time he decided to cancel his annual visits to Forks.

"No, Rachel got a scholarship to Washington State, and Rebecca married a Samoan surfer—she lives in Hawaii now."

"Married. Wow." There had to be something in the water here. Charlie and Renée weren't much older than he was now when they tied the knot. It was like a disease or something.

"So how do you like the truck?"

"I love it," he said sincerely. "It runs great."

"Yeah, but it's really slow," Jacob laughed. "I was so relieved when Charlie bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car when we had a perfectly good vehicle right there."

"It's not that slow."

"Have you ever tried to go over sixty?"

"No," he admitted.

"Good. Don't."

"It does great in a collision," Beau offered, a last stab in his truck's defense.

"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster."

They laughed together for a moment. He decided Jacob was very easy to talk with. Beau remembered Billy being a rather chatty person as well. Like father like son, Beau thought wryly, considering his own taciturn father.

"So you build cars?"

"When I have free time, and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?"

He might as well have been speaking gibberish; Beau laughed. "Sorry. I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes open for you."

Jacob flashed a bright, brilliant smile, and threw him an appreciative look that Beau was learning to recognize. But this was the first time it came from another boy. Across the circle, bored with the CD player, Lauren and Tyler came to sit on their log. Beau found himself on the receiving end of an odd, almost hostile glare from Tyler, and turned to listen to Lauren and Jacob's conversation.

"Do you know Beau, Jacob?"

"We've sort of known each other since I was born," the younger boy laughed.

"Same with all of us," Lauren agreed, then considered her own words, frowning. "Well, minus Beau, because he's new. And the Cullens—they never show up to these things. Too good for us, I guess."

"Do you mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family?"

A tall, older boy interrupted them, much to Lauren's irritation. He was older than he first appeared, and his voice was very deep.

"Yes, do you know them?"

"The Cullens don't come here," he replied, ignoring her blatant curiosity. Beau stared at the newcomer, taken aback, but he was looking toward the forest. He said that the Cullens didn't come here, but his tone implied something more—that they weren't allowed; they were prohibited. His manner left a strange impression on Beau, and he tried unsuccessfully to ignore it.

Bored when the boy did not elaborate, Lauren and Tyler decided to go to the village shop. The older boy wandered away and left Beau and Jacob alone again.

"So is Forks driving you crazy yet?"

"Oh, I'd say that's an understatement."

The two shared a playful grimace. Beau was still mulling over the brief aside about the Cullens when he was struck with a sudden inspiration. It was a stupid plan. He felt manipulative to even consider it, but he didn't have any better ideas, and lying had become his frequent, unfortunate habit. He just hoped that young Jacob was a little more inexperienced with boys than he was.

"Do you want to take a walk down the beach with me?" Beau asked while trying to smile in that crooked way Edward did. It couldn't have had nearly the same effect, but Jacob jumped up willingly enough.

As they walked north toward the seawall, the clouds began to gather overhead, and the temperature dropped. Beau took the Mariners cap off and spun it absently in his hands. It was the first time he could remember even allowing himself to flirt. He only hoped it wouldn't be as awkward as he imagined.

"So you're, what, sixteen?"

Jacob looked flattered. "I just turned fifteen."

"Really? I would have thought you were older. Do you come up to Forks much?"

"Not too much," he admitted. "But when I get my car finished I can go up as much as I want—after I get my license, of course."

Beau nodded, understanding. The local bus service from La Push to Forks only ran a couple times a day; here, the car was king. They walked for a little while longer, silent, the only sound being the crunch of pebbles underfoot. Beau tried a different tact.

"Who was that other boy Lauren was talking to? He seemed a little old to be hanging out with us."

"That's Sam—he's nineteen."

"He seemed . . . upset . . . when Lauren mentioned the doctor's family."

"The Cullens? Oh, they're not supposed to come onto the reservation." Jacob looked away, confirming what Beau thought he heard in Sam's voice. Prohibited, indeed. But why them, specifically? Many people came through the reservation daily for recreational activities, but the Cullens—avid hikers and campers, according to all—did not, and apparently, could not.

"Why not?"

"I'm not really supposed to talk about that."

"Oh, I won't tell anyone, I'm just curious," Beau smiled, holding his gaze. Soon Jacob was returning the smile. One dark eyebrow lifted and his voice became husky.

"Do you like scary stories?"

Beau ran a hand through his hair, tousling it, painfully aware of how silly he must look at this moment. "I love them."

It seemed to do the trick. Beau followed Jacob to a driftwood tree and joined him on one of the white, clawlike roots. As they settled in, Jacob stared down at the rocks, no doubt trying to make this telling a good one. Beau focused on keeping the true interest out of his eyes.

"Do you know any of our old stories, about where they came from—the Quileutes, I mean?"

"Not really."

"I didn't think so—some of them are only told at the tribe bonfires. Well, there's a legend that claims that we descend from wolves—that the wolves are our brothers still. It's against tribal law to kill them. Then there are the stories about the cold ones."

"The cold ones?" Beau repeated. He wasn't faking his intrigue now.

"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to legend, my great-grandfather, Ephraim Black, knew some of them. He was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our land."

"Your great-grandfather?"

"Ephraim was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf—well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."

"Werewolves have enemies?"

"Only one."

Beau was admiring; Jacob had a way with words. He forgot this conversation began as a ploy—the thrill of new information was almost too much to contain.

"So you see," Jacob continued. "The cold ones are traditionally our enemies. But this pack that came to our territory during my great-grandfather's time was different. They didn't hunt the way the others of their kind did—they weren't supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So Ephraim made a truce with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the pale-faces."

He winked, making Beau grin. "If they weren't dangerous, then why . . . ?"

"There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they're civilized like this clan was. You never know when they might get too hungry to resist."

Beau fought back a shiver. "What do you mean 'civilized'?"

"They claimed that they didn't hunt humans. They supposedly were able to prey on animals instead."

"So how do the Cullens fit into it? Are they like the cold ones your great-grandfather met?"

"No." He paused dramatically. "They are the same ones."

Something in his expression pleased Jacob; he must have thought the fear there was inspired by the story.

"There are more of them now, a new female and a new male, but the rest are the same. In my great-grandfather's time they already knew of the leader, Carlisle. He'd been here and gone before your people had even arrived."

"And what are they?" Beau finally asked. "What are cold ones?"

"Blood drinkers. Your people call them vampires."

Beau stared out at the rough surf, trying to absorb what he just heard. He was chilled all the way to the bone.

"O, full of scorpions is my mind," He murmured, too low for Jacob to hear. The other boy, unaware of his silent distress, looked delighted.

"Beau, you have goosebumps."

"You're a good storyteller." Beau was still staring into the waves. A small part of his brain rejoiced at a potential solution to the mystery, and yet, a greater part of him felt even more frustrated. But then, why did the story feel so solid, so true?

Beau had witnessed things that defied rational explanation. Was it really that big of a leap?

"Pretty crazy stuff, though, isn't it? No wonder my dad doesn't want us to talk about it to anyone."

"Don't worry, I won't give you away." Beau wasn't sure how to start processing this information, much less tell anyone else. The story was out there—crazy—and yet, stranger things had happened. He'd seen as much in the parking lot at the high school.

"I guess I just violated the treaty."

"I'll take it to the grave," Beau promised, then shivered again. It was far too soon to joke like that.

"Seriously, though, don't say anything to Charlie," Jacob pleaded. "He was pretty mad at my dad when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since Dr. Cullen started working there."

Beau thought back to his father's tirade about the local impression of the Cullens. It extended much further than he thought. Charlie no doubt would have the same incredulous reaction, but then, Charlie didn't know what the tribe did . . . what Beau did . . .

"I won't say anything. I think you're very good at telling scary stories, though. I still have goosebumps, see?"

"Cool," Jacob smiled.

And then the sound of beach rocks clattering against each other warned of someone approaching. Their heads snapped up at the same time to see Mike and Jessica about fifty yards away, walking toward them.

"There you are, Beau," Jessica called.

"Is that your girlfriend?" Jacob asked, alerted by the jealous edge in her voice. Beau was surprised it was so obvious. Even Mike looked irritated by it.

"No, definitely not," Beau whispered. He was grateful to Jacob and eager to make him as happy as possible. He winked, careful to keep it out of Jessica's line of sight. Jacob smiled back, elated by his inept flirting.

"So when I get my license . . . " he began.

"You should come see me in Forks. We could hang out sometime." Beau felt guilty as he said it, knowing he effectively used him for information. But he really did like Jacob. He was someone Beau could easily be friends with.

The other two reached them at last. "Where have you been?"

"Jacob was just telling me some local stories. It was really interesting."

"Oh, well, cool," Jessica glanced between all three boys. "We're packing up—it looks like it's going to rain soon."

"Okay, I'm coming."

"It was nice to see you again, Beau." Jacob shook his hand one more time. It was a strangely formal gesture after hanging out for so long.

"It really was. Next time Charlie comes down to see Billy, I'll come, too."

Jacob's answering grin was wide. "Looking forward to it."

"And thanks," Beau added earnestly.

He pulled up his hood as they tramped across the rocks to the parking lot. A few drops were already beginning to fall. The others were loading up the Suburban quickly to avoid the incoming storm.

Beau crawled into the back row with Tyler on his left and Angela on the right. The former spent the ride chatting with Lauren, the latter fell asleep on his shoulder, and Beau closed his eyes, trying very hard not to think.

A/N: Thank you as always for your reviews, I treasure them. Thanks again for taking this little journey with me every week.