It had taken a lot less time than he thought—all the terror, the despair, the shattering of his heart. Jasper still hadn't come back when Beau returned to Alice. He was afraid to be in the same room as her, afraid that she would guess . . . and afraid to hide from her for the same reason.
Beau thought he was far beyond the ability to be surprised while his thoughts were so tortured and unstable. But it did surprise him to see Alice bent over the desk, her white hands trembling. Another vision. The desk began to groan in her grip.
"Alice?"
She didn't react to her own name. Her eyes were blank, dazed . . . his thoughts went to Charlie. Was he already too late?
The door flew open and suddenly Jasper was there, his hands curling to take hers away from the desk. There were deep grooves in the surface from Alice's fingers.
"Alice, what is it?"
She turned her face into his chest. "Beau."
"I'm right here," he told Alice, taking another step toward the couple. Her head twisted around, eyes locking into Beau's, the expression in hers strangely blank. He realized at once she hadn't been speaking to him. She'd been answering Jasper's question.
"What did you see?" His voice was flat. Uncaring.
Jasper studied the two of them, feeling the chaos . . . for Beau was sure Alice had seen the end. His end. A gentle tranquility settled over him, and Beau welcomed it, using the strange peace to keep his emotions disciplined. Eventually Alice recovered, though he knew he had seen more than she intended.
"Nothing really," she answered. It was almost convincing. "Just the same room as before."
Then she became a pod person, as if the last three minutes that passed were of no importance. "Did you want breakfast?"
"No, I'll eat later." He was as calm as she was trying to be. Beau retreated to the bathroom to shower. It was obvious that Alice was desperate to be alone with Jasper, to tell him something was going awry, that they were going to fail . . .
The peaceful mood Jasper created allowed him to keep a clear head. Beau went on autopilot. He had a checklist and went through each task methodically. First he put on the Mariners cap because it made him feel brave. Then he tied his shoes. He pocketed the last of his cash and shoved his passport down his shirt.
Beau was anxious to get going. Jasper had uncharacteristically given up earlier when he tried to check out, providing a brief moment of levity when he confessed to this failure on the way down to the lobby. Alice pushed him back into the line—which, judging from Jasper's grimace, was longer than it had been before—and sat with Beau in the stylish waiting area. She was jumpy, her eyes darting between him and Jasper every few seconds.
Beau set his bag down next to hers, thinking. "Alice?"
She was wary. "Yes?"
"How does it work? The things that you see? Edward said it wasn't definite . . . that things change?"
"Yes, things change . . . " she murmured, sounding hopeful. "Some things are more certain than others . . . like the weather. People are harder. I only see the course they're on while they're on it. Once they change their minds—make a new decision, no matter how small—the whole future shifts."
Beau nodded thoughtfully. "So you couldn't see James until he made a decision."
"Yes," she agreed, wary again.
Alice hadn't seen him in the locker room with James until he made the decision to go there. Beau tried not to think about what else she might have seen. He didn't want to create more panic for Jasper to dissect. They would be extra careful with him now.
Jasper and Alice were uniquely gifted vampires. But despite these abilities, they couldn't force the tired concierge to move faster. Restless, Alice called the flight status number every few minutes, tutting when she received the same automated message. Jasper's impatience was clear even from across the lobby; the nervous humans behind him in line gave him a wide berth.
Beau anxiously waited for an opportunity. He couldn't stop fidgeting. Every time he shifted in his seat, he knew Alice was watching him closely, as if anticipating a jailbreak.
It was hopeless. Should he run? Would they risk exposure and make a scene? Beau weighed the options lightly, never landing on one decision for too long before changing his mind.
Beau pulled the unmarked envelope out of his pocket. "Alice, can I put this in your purse?"
She nodded, her eyes now fixed on the concierge. Beau pulled on the zipper and struggled against an odd surge of guilt; Renée always warned him about going through a lady's purse. Carefully, without putting too much thought into the decision, he took hold of the car keys and let them slide down his sleeve. Then, almost indifferently, he swiped their passports, too.
Edward's flight grew closer by the minute. It was amazing how his body seemed to know Edward was coming, to long for this arrival. To anticipate his touch. That made this decision all the more difficult. Beau found himself trying to think of excuses to go to the airport as planned. To stay just long enough to get a glimpse of him. But he knew that was impossible. It would be hard enough to get away from two vampires.
Several times Alice offered to go to the hotel breakfast buffet with him. Later, he told her, not yet. He had no appetite now. Beau stared at his watch instead, calculating how long the drive back to Forks would be, and, when they caught on, how long it would take Alice and Jasper to catch up. He figured the lack of passports would at the very least complicate their pursuit.
Then Jasper was second in line at the counter. Beau had no more time.
"I think I'll eat now."
Alice stood up with him. "I'll come with you."
"Do you mind if Jasper comes instead?" he asked. "I'm feeling a little . . . "
He didn't have to finish; his expression was wild enough to convey what he didn't say. Alice's eyes were confused but not yet suspicious. She must have attributed a change in her vision to some maneuver of the tracker rather than a betrayal by Beau. Sighing, she went up to Jasper and traded places with him in line. He looked delighted to be relieved of the task.
Jasper walked silently alongside him. His hand rested on the small of Beau's back as if to guide him. Guide, he thought, or detain.
The two walked through the labyrinth of hotel hallways until they found the restaurant buffet. Jasper blanched at the length of the new line, but he had no choice than to grab a plate and blend in.
Beau glanced back at the door of the restaurant. They passed the bathrooms and a red Exit sign on the way in. An exit door to the parking garage beckoned, but first, he had to slip past his bodyguard. Beau cleared his throat.
"I'm going to use the restroom first."
"I'll come with," Jasper said at once, eyeing the scones and pastries with obvious distaste. Beau couldn't help but agree with his assessment—despite the five star rating, this hotel was just like any other—crap food.
"Um, actually, can you save my place in line? I'm really hungry."
"I'll . . . be right here," Jasper said reluctantly. Beau wasn't sure if it was the food or his charge leaving that worried him.
Beau walked toward the doors and fell into step behind a group of teenagers headed in the same direction. He stole a glance over his shoulder and saw Jasper studying the tray of scrambled eggs in disgust. Beau edged past the other boys and escaped out the exit door.
He only had a vague memory of leaving the car. Beau started to panic at the thought of wandering through five floors of the garage; he didn't have that kind of time. But he thought it made sense for the Cullens to park on the first floor. It was the lowest to the ground, provided shade if required, and allowed for the one thing he needed—a quick getaway.
His instincts were correct. The Mercedes sat waiting for him near the entrance of the garage. There was only one small problem: the garage had a gate arm that required payment to open up. He imagined Alice's expression when she found him digging through the car for the parking ticket.
Beau took a deep breath and floored the accelerator, tires squealing, wincing as the grille made quick work of the gate. It dragged behind the Mercedes for a few seconds before laying limp in the street, abandoned.
Beau hoped Carlisle wouldn't hate him too much for destroying his car.
No one came chasing after him as he drove, so Beau assumed he was in the clear for at least a few minutes. There was no way to know if Alice and Jasper were looking for him yet. They definitely would have heard the commotion in the garage. He prayed he had enough time to cross into Washington before they caught up.
Luck was with him, or maybe it was just good odds. The roads were clear and his speeding got him to the border in less time than he expected. Beau joined the line of cars and glanced furtively in the rearview mirror. It would look strange for the Cullens to storm up to the Mercedes in front of the border agents. He only hoped they hadn't reported it stolen yet.
There was another problem: Beau was a minor. He couldn't cross the border without a parent or guardian. The memory of entering Canada with the Cullens was fuzzy. He was sure Jasper's influence—and no doubt a large bribe—allowed them to continue last time. He didn't have those advantages today.
He had to do something, and fast. Beau dug around in the glove box and found a pair of expensive-looking aviators. He spun the Mariners cap backwards and pulled up to the checkpoint.
"Passport, sir?"
Beau handed the agent his passport and pushed the sunglasses down his nose. The young woman studied his picture for a few seconds. Her hair was bottle blonde; in fact, she sort of looked like Lauren Mallory. He tried to look at her through his eyelashes like Edward was fond of doing. The dazzling attempt had worked with Jacob; Beau had to prevent her from running the license plates or busting him for being underage.
"Coming home?"
"Yep," Beau flashed her what he hoped was a flirtatious smile. "Had a little fender bender. Gotta to take it back to the dealership, you know how it goes."
The agent glanced at the grille of the Mercedes. She seemed to be torn between sympathy and scorn. "Yeah, that'll set you back a few bucks. Might have to ask Daddy for the same one in red."
"Totally." Beau fought to keep smiling. "Black is so not my color, you know?"
The woman rolled her eyes. "Drive on, kid."
Beau was almost breathless with relief. He kept his speed reasonable until the border fell out of sight. Then he put his foot to the floor to test the powerful engine. He was beginning to understand why the Cullens liked fast cars.
When Beau first learned to drive, he remembered doing it white-knuckled. His back was always tense and straight. He drove slowly, even on highways, terrified of hitting something and forcing his mother to pay higher insurance premiums. But somewhere along the way, his body remembered what to do, and his mind could wander. It became an introspective activity. A way to clear his head.
Beau couldn't help but picture the moment Edward got off the plane. Alice and Jasper would be waiting for him, their thoughts betraying them before the passengers even got off the runway. Edward would be livid with his siblings, and that thought made Beau cringe. He knew how angry Edward could become.
He breathed deeply, allowing the triumph of his escape its due. There was no point in indulging in more terror. The decision was made; his path set. All that remained was to follow through.
Twice he thought he saw Big Red in the rearview, but he was only imagining it. He was sure the Cullens would have left it to rust in Phoenix in their haste to get back. The truck couldn't handle this speed, anyway.
There was a ferry across the Puget Sound he did not anticipate. The extra travel time stressed him out, but once they set off, he relaxed.
Beau decided to spend the rest of the journey with Edward.
He imagined a different decision. This time, he stayed with Alice and Jasper, and went along to pick up Edward at the airport. Beau was tall, so he would see Edward before the other two. Edward could move quickly and gracefully through the crowds. Beau would close the distance—reckless as always—and then the marble arms would close around him. Finally safe.
Beau wondered where Edward planned to take him. Most likely north somewhere, so he could be outside during the day. Or maybe somewhere very remote, on some distant shore, where they could lay in the sun together again. Edward's skin would sparkle by the sea. And it wouldn't matter how long they had to hide. Being trapped in a hotel room with Edward would be some kind of heaven. Beau still had so many questions to ask. They would talk forever, not stopping for sleep, always side-by-side.
He could see his face so clearly now . . . almost hear his voice. Despite his horror and hopelessness, Beau was fleetingly happy. He once told Edward that he was good at repressing bad things. This daydream reminded him of why he made this decision in the first place.
Their last words had been that they loved each other. That was enough to carry him down the coast.
But soon, the highway signs for Forks punctured his fantasy. He was so involved in the escapist daydreams that he lost track of time. Fear, bleak and hard, was waiting to fill the empty space.
Beau took a strangled breath and kept an eye out for the silver Volvo or a flash of red hair. They had not heard from Esme or Rosalie in far too long. Their radio silence could only mean two things—either she was close enough to hear them or they were fighting her. Could Esme and Rosalie handle her wildness, her ferocity? His stomach plunged at the thought. She had James here for backup now.
He parked in front of Charlie's house. The cruiser was missing and the lights were dark. He peered cautiously through the windshield but saw nothing. Everything inside the house looked the same. There was no sign of a struggle. The TV was on, which was strange; Charlie, in typical father fashion, was fastidious about turning off lights and appliances when they weren't being used. Beau pressed the button to turn it off then hurried up the stairs.
His Little League aluminum bat was in its usual corner. Beau had kept his regulation bat under his bed in Phoenix since the attack, waiting, perhaps foolishly, for a second one. Back then, Beau thought his teammates were evil. He had no idea that something far worse existed in the world. Beau shoved the bat into his school backpack, slung it over his shoulders, and raced down the stairs.
There was no time to look back at the house, and he didn't want to. It was empty and stood as a symbol of fear instead of sanctuary. The last person to walk through that door was an enemy.
From the corner of his eye, Beau could almost see Charlie on his knees, adding the snow chains to Big Red. Or there, stowing his gear in the trunk of the cruiser, looking ridiculous but content in his fishing vest and bucket hat.
All happy memories. All gone.
Beau sped through town in the Mercedes, eyes vigilant for both friends and enemies. But he saw no one. It was spring break in Forks and the streets were empty. His classmates would be sleeping in or out of town altogether. He took some solace in the green protective forests of Forks, of home, that lined the roads as he drove.
He parked the Mercedes and hurried to the gymnasium building. On a regular day, this campus was buzzing with life, almost like a mini city. Today it was deserted—hollow, even. He had never felt more alone in his life. But Charlie needed him, and that thought propelled him forward.
Beau pushed the gymnasium door open with a shaking hand. He did this for a few Saturdays earlier in the semester, but now, the idea of being here filled him with dread. It was cruel, and that was exactly the point.
The decorations from the dance were still up. Half deflated balloons, wilting streamers, and empty punch cups lined the floor. Cleanup would no doubt take place this week when the students were gone.
Beau stood still, taking in the familiar sight of this room, a room that used to make him happy. But now terror seized him so strongly that he was literally trapped by it. He couldn't make his feet move forward.
Dead man walking.
And then his father's voice called.
"Beau? Beau?" It was that same hysterical panic he heard over the phone. His instincts kicked in immediately. Beau sprinted to the locker room toward the noise.
Beau threw one shoulder at the door, staggered into the room, and crashed to the floor. There was Charlie, on the TV screen, tousling his Beau's hair in relief. It was the video from his first Mariners game at the Kingdome. They'd gone together, father and son, and Charlie insisted on recording the occasion. Beau had wandered away from his father into the crowd for a few minutes—every parent's nightmare. "Beau? Beau?" he'd called to him in fear.
"Beau, you scared me! Don't you ever do that to me again!"
And then the TV screen was blue.
Beau pushed himself to his feet. The tracker was standing very still by the back exit, so still that Beau hadn't noticed him at first. He held a remote control in his hand. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then he smiled.
James walked toward him, quite close, then passed by to put the remote down next to the VCR. It was the same television and VCR that Mr. Banner used for his movie day in Biology.
Beau turned carefully to watch James as he returned to his original place by the exit door.
"Sorry about that, Beau, but isn't better that your father really didn't have to be involved in all this?"
His voice was courteous, kind. And then it hit him. Beau had walked right into a trap.
Charlie was fine. He'd never gotten the message, or maybe the redhead had deleted it. Charlie hadn't been subject to a brutal kidnapping or terrified by those dark red eyes. He was probably working, spending time at La Push, or out fishing with friends. He was safe.
"Yes," Beau answered, his voice full of relief.
"You don't sound angry that I tricked you."
"I'm not." The sudden high made him brave. What did it matter now? Soon everything would be over. His parents would never be harmed or have to fear for their lives. Beau felt almost giddy. Some analytical part of his mind warned him that he was dangerously close to snapping from the stress.
"How odd. You really mean it." The ruby red eyes assessed him with interest. "I will give your strange coven this much, you humans can be quite interesting. I guess I can see the draw of observing you. It's amazing—some of you seem to have no sense of your own self-interest at all."
James stood a few feet away, arms folded, looking him over curiously. There was no menace in his face or stance. He was very average. He wore a long-sleeved shirt and faded blue jeans, looking for all the world like an ordinary man. He reminded Beau of the dads who went to every high school baseball game in Phoenix. Only the white skin and odd eyes gave him away.
"I suppose you're going to tell me that your boyfriend will avenge you?" He sounded hopeful.
It was strangely easy to converse with this genteel hunter. "No, I don't think so. At least, I asked him not to."
"And what was his reply to that?"
"I don't know." The bat clanged against his spine as he shrugged. "I left him a letter."
"How romantic, a last letter. And do you think you will honor it?"
The hint of sarcasm made him think James didn't find it romantic at all. But his opinion didn't mean much to Beau.
"I hope so."
"Hmm. Well, our hopes differ then. You see, this was all just a little too easy, too quick. To be quite honest, I'm disappointed. I expected a much greater challenge. And, after all that, I only needed a little luck."
"I'm very sorry you feel that way," Beau said at last.
The posturing was starting to remind him of his old teammates. The braggadocio, the gloating, the sly taunts. In truth, James was a bully, and enjoyed causing the suffering of others.
Something about that was a small comfort to Beau. If bullying was universal across the species, that meant love had to be, too. What he and Edward had was true.
James continued as if he hadn't spoken. "When Victoria couldn't get to your father, I had her find out more about you; in a game with this many players, I couldn't be working alone. There was no sense in running all over the planet chasing you down when I could comfortably wait for you in a place of my choosing. So, after I talked to Victoria, I decided to go to Phoenix. I heard you say you were going home. I never dreamed you meant it, but then I wondered. Humans like to think themselves clever. Wouldn't it be the perfect ploy, to lead me out of town, and run the other way?"
The shine of his snarkiness wore off almost instantly. Sometimes Beau thought he was smarter than he really was.
"But of course I wasn't sure, it was just a hunch. I usually get a feeling about the prey I'm hunting, a sixth sense, if you will. The truck and clothes trick fooled me for a time, I'll give you that. Victoria was close enough to hear your message, but we couldn't be sure where you called from. It was very useful to have your number, but you could have been in Antarctica for all I knew, and the game wouldn't work unless you were close by. By then I was prepared; I'd already been through the home movies. And then it was simply a matter of the bluff."
Beau shifted the backpack on his shoulders as he recalled the phone call. How amusing it must have been for James to know Beau was running toward his own death. If the tracker was bothered by the presence of the bat, he gave no sign of it.
"Very easy, you know, not really up to my standards. So, you see, I'm hoping you're wrong about your boyfriend. Edward, is it?"
Beau didn't answer. The bravado was wearing off. He sensed the end of the gloat was near. The villain speech was only fun when it was given to a heroic rival. There was no glory in beating Beau, a weak human.
"Would you mind, very much, if I left a little letter of my own for your Edward?"
James raised a palm-sized digital video camera to eye level. A small red light indicated it was now running. He adjusted it a few times to widen the frame. Beau's hands were in fists.
"Actually, I mind a lot. The lighting is terrible for my complexion."
This made him laugh. "I understand your reluctance. It was in a locker room, wasn't it? Your attack?"
Beau stared at him in horror. The problem-solving part of his brain found the solution almost instantly: Victoria.
"Most of the school incident report was redacted." James was conversational now as he toyed with the camera's zoom function. "Nothing too exciting in the newspapers. The medical records were harder to get, but my mate can be pretty resourceful when she wants to be. Days after the hospital stay you disappeared from the class roster. It wasn't hard to fill in the blanks."
Beau stared at him with a surge of hatred, watching as the red eye of the camera came closer. He wanted him closer, just a little more . . .
"I'm sorry for the camera, I really am. But I just don't think he'll be able to resist hunting me after he watches this. And I wouldn't want Edward to miss anything. It was all for him, of course. You're simply a human, who unfortunately was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and indisputably running with the wrong crowd, I might add. But, before we begin . . . "
James stepped forward and smiled. Just a few more feet with that camera . . .
"I would just like to rub it in, just a little bit. The answer was there all along, and I was so afraid Edward would see that and ruin my fun. It happened once, oh, ages ago. The one and only time my prey escaped me.
"You see, the vampire who was so stupidly fond of this little victim made the choice that your Edward was too weak to make. When the old one knew I was after his little friend, he stole her from the asylum where he worked—I will never understand the obsession some vampires seem to form with you humans—and as soon as he freed her he made her safe. She didn't even seem to notice the pain, poor little creature. She'd been stuck in that black hole of a cell for so long. A hundred years earlier and she would have been burned at the stake for her visions. In the nineteen-twenties it was the asylum and the shock treatments. When she opened her eyes, strong with her fresh youth, it was like she'd never seen the sun before. The old vampire made her a strong new vampire, and there was no reason for me to touch her then." He sighed. "I destroyed the old one in vengeance."
"Alice," Beau breathed, astonished.
"Yes, your little friend. I was surprised to see her in the clearing. So I guess her coven ought to be able to derive some comfort from this experience. I get you, but they get her. The one victim who escaped me, quite an honor, actually. And she did smell so delicious. I still regret that I never got to taste . . . she smelled even better than you do. Sorry—I don't mean to be offensive. You have a very nice smell. Floral, somehow . . . "
James was close enough to touch him now. Beau stood motionless as he sniffed one curl then patted the hair back in place behind his ear. The tracker was still unbothered by the bat sticking out of his backpack. The cold, cruel hand stroked his cheek like Edward used to before Gym class. Beau couldn't even flinch away.
"No." James dropped his hand. "I don't understand. Well, I suppose we should get on with it. Then I can call your friends and tell them where to find you, and my little message."
The pain was coming. Beau could see it in his eyes. It wouldn't be enough for him to win, to feed and go. There would be no quick end like he had been hoping. Beau felt his knees shake as James took a step back and set the camera back on the VCR. Then he began to circle, casually, as if he were trying to get a better view of a statue in a museum. Beau stepped back and mimicked him. The two circled, not speaking for a minute. This made James smile. He seemed entertained by the action; it was something he had not expected.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Beau had drawn his aluminum bat and tossed the backpack to the side. He knew vampires moved fast, but he also knew this one enjoyed a challenge, and hoped he would consider it one. Beau rooted his feet shoulder length apart and leaned the bat against his shoulder. For a heartbeat, he could pretend he was at home plate.
James was still smiling. The smile grew until it was nothing but a contortion of teeth, exposed and glistening. "You know that won't work on me."
"I know," Beau said, and swung.
The camera shattered on impact, its jagged pieces flying in every direction. James roared, suddenly a foot away, tossing him aside like a ragdoll. Beau felt his body slam against the lockers. The bat rolled away uselessly to the other side of the room. From his position on the floor, he could see James was examining the camera's wreckage, looking for something to salvage.
Beau forced himself to his feet and tried to run. Alice told him that prey didn't escape when a vampire was so close. As useless as he knew it would be, as weak as his knees already were, panic took over and he bolted for the main gymnasium door. Beau didn't want to die in a locker room.
James caught up in a flash. He threw a crushing blow and struck him hard on the back. Beau flew forward into the glossy wooden floors, face-first, landing with a sickening crack. A few of the planks splintered, stunning him. Something warm trickled down his face and he thought his nose might be broken again.
The tracker walked toward him slowly.
"Very dramatic," he said, observing as Beau struggled to rise. "I thought this was a nice bit of symmetry, you being lured to a locker room again. Yet you are so determined to ruin my little film."
Beau ignored him, still trying to stand. James was at his side immediately, stepping down hard on his leg. He heard the sickening snap before he felt the pain. But then he did feel it and a moan escaped his lips.
James nudged the broken leg and Beau heard a piercing scream. With a shock, he realized it was his own.
"Shame those boys didn't finish what they started. None of this would have ever happened."
The tracker dug a foot into Beau's side, drew back, and kicked him across the room. Beau slid down the wall and collapsed into a heap on the floor. Over the pain of his nose and leg, a new pain ripped sharply across his scalp. The warm wetness, same as the one dripping into his mouth, began to spread through his hair with alarming speed. The smell of it twisted his stomach.
Through the nausea and dizziness, Beau saw something that gave him a sudden, final shred of hope. The darkening eyes, merely intent before, now burned with uncontrollable need. His blood—rapidly pooling crimson on the floor—was driving James mad with thirst. No matter his original intentions, he couldn't draw this out for much longer.
Let it be quick, Beau thought, as the room shimmered around the edges of his vision. He heard the final growl of the hunter. A dark shadow stood over him, and with the last bit of strength that remained, Beau raised a hand to protect his face.
His eyes closed, and he drifted.
A/N: Been silent on my author's notes lately, but I read every single review that comes through, and they fill my heart every time. Thank you - a thousand times, thank you.