Chapter Twenty-Four

August 2020

Edward

Esme locks the door when the last patient leaves and rests her forehead against the wall for a few seconds before turning towards me. Her smile, rueful. Her eyes, sad. She looks exactly how I feel. Drained.

Another day has passed … the same as every other day we've endured recently. Five months. Approximately, a hundred and fifty days of trauma and the end is nowhere in sight. Physically, I'm not exhausted if you take the common meaning of the word. Psychologically, there are no words to describe the state I'm in.

I arrived to help in late March – I can't even remember the date now. By the end of that month, a thousand New Yorkers had died of this wretched disease. By April, the reported numbers of casualties meant nothing. The true figure could not be assessed as many souls had passed away undiagnosed. Nationally, the figures had exploded. By the end of May, over a hundred thousand had succumbed across the US, with an uncountable number sick. I gave up watching the news.

The local economy had suffered greatly, so in June, the Mayor announced there would be a phased return to normal life. As doctors, we metaphorically held our breath. The infection numbers continued to rise. The deaths flattened out and began to fall. Early diagnosis and quick intervention had proved to be a game-changer. By July 31st, a quarter of a million New Yorkers had tested positive. Many had been left with long-term lung damage.

During these months my fascination with Bella Swan had to be put on hold. I'd been in the clinic three days when Alice messaged me to say that Tanya had met her end on the Quileute reservation, courtesy of a pack of werewolves. The Quileute were now rampant in the National Park searching for evidence of more of us. As long as they stayed there, this would not be a problem.

Not long after news of Tanya's death reached Italy, Aro sent a directive from Volterra ordering all vampires to stay clear of Washington, Oregon, and Idaho, and British Columbia in Canada. He ordered that 'no vampire should seek revenge on the werewolves or he would personally rip them to pieces.' Kate was inconsolable. Irina traveled to Alaska from Europe raging at me for causing Tanya's death until Eleazar put her right. Her sister's recklessness had prompted the Quileute to revert to their former ways, whether or not I had been the trigger.

I would occasionally call Bella just to hear her voice. She sounded upbeat most of the time. Her father had survived the surgery and returned home after ten more days in the hospital. She asked me about 1923 twice and sulked when I insisted my original story about my grandfather was true. I don't like lying, especially to Bella. A phone call though is not the best method of communication when you have to admit that yes, it was me on 5th Avenue in 1923, and actually, I'm immortal too. What the best method is hasn't occurred to me yet.

During our last conversation three days ago, she told me she planned to return to New York prior to in-person learning re-commencing sometime in October. Her college building would be open for study soon including the library for research purposes. Booked slots only though for social distancing reasons of course. She hadn't determined her travel plans, but probably sometime in the middle of September. I felt both excited and concerned.

At the end of each call, frustration over my situation would eat into me. I felt angry with myself for allowing Bella to wriggle her way into my psyche. Alice called it right. I certainly had picked the wrong girl to fall in love with. Whether she would fall for me too, Alice wouldn't say. Why would Bella feel anything for me though? She must think I'm weird. She definitely knows I'm a stalker.

At night I would fantasize about being with her. Gross but true. I've undressed her in mind so many times, slowly running my hands over her hair before touching every part of her body. I would never imagine looking into her eyes while I did this. Why? I fear her reaction when she feels my cold hands caressing her. Would she be repulsed? Possibly. Would she be even more repulsed when she found out I came into this world in 1901? Probably.

After dark, I would walk New York's streets but not for sustenance this time. There's already too much death in this city for me to add to the horror. I haven't fed from a human since I killed Al in March, managing on farmed blood which Liam supplies to Carlisle on a weekly basis now. My craving when I sense a mouth-watering human is relentless. I now know what it's like to pass a patisserie when you're on your way home from Weight Watchers. There are still criminals in town but few of the type I prefer to prey on. Random psychopaths who murder or rape for fun or sexual relief, and mobsters who wipe out rivals for territorial gain or punishment - most have gone underground during the pandemic. Other criminals though are having a field day.

Very often I would make my way to Battery Park and the waterfront where I could look out over the water to Ellis Island and Lady Liberty. I go back to imagining I'm my grandfather stepping onto American soil for the first time. He would have had hopes and dreams not just for himself, but for his family and the people he traveled with hoping they would grow and prosper in this land of opportunity. Whatever his aspirations were for their future, he could never have imagined his only grandson would still be alive in 2020, with a good chance of being around for many more centuries to come. That is when I recall James's threat to wipe me out.

Not if I can help it.

Bella

I guess the best way to describe my relationship with Jake now would be 'estranged.' During my days at the cabin, he would come over with supplies and only stay for a few minutes. Despite several prompts, he refused to talk about what I referred to as the 'Night of the Wolves.' One time, I brought up the legend Quil A'teara told us by the fire on the pretext that I'd been reminiscing about my visits here when I was a kid. He dismissed the story as nonsense and left before I could challenge him about the Quileute changing into wolves.

On another occasion, I asked whether I could meet up with Emily. 'Yeah, sometime,' he said and changed the subject. He wasn't going to budge. On the morning he took me to the hospital so I could accompany Dad home, he had the music up so loud in Billy's truck it was impossible to talk.

Dad had his surgery a week after his heart attack despite still having the virus in his system. I'm sure the growing demand for intensive care beds hurried his doctor's decision not to wait any longer. Dad's breathing had improved substantially over the previous days, so the surgeon felt confident Dad was fit enough to proceed. He spent a few more days in the Coronary Care Unit before being transferred to his own room. A week later, Doctor Warnock called to say he was well enough to go home, although he would be confined to his bedroom for another two weeks so he could use the bathroom without walking up the stairs. Now we had both been declared virus-free, Waylon and another cop came over and rigged the old TV up in his room so at least he could watch sports.

During the months that followed, I could only recall my two weeks on the reservation with sadness. I'd fallen into a state of mourning over the loss of the wonderful relationship I'd had with Jake. Dad still spoke to Billy on the phone but Billy wouldn't leave the reservation for fear of catching the virus which had spread to all parts of the peninsula. After a prompt from me, Dad asked him why Jake hadn't called in to see us. Billy's response had been that Jake had been working non-stop in the workshop and came home exhausted most nights. I knew this wasn't true. Mike could see the workshop from his parents' store. He reported it was hardly ever open.

As the weeks and months went by I watched Forks deal with the pandemic with a creditable amount of stoicism. The young rallied around the old, delivering their groceries, collecting prescriptions, and checking they were okay on a regular basis. The two local churches gave communion in their parishioners' front yards. Schools delivered online learning to the kids. Fourth of July celebrations were muted. No communal barbeques took place. Fireworks let off in the sports field were enjoyed from our homes. Strange times but surprisingly good times. The really ancient residents said it reminded them of wartime.

When I turned Dad's wall calendar over to August I accepted that the time had come to plan my return to New York. Dad had passed his last medical examination with flying colors and had been given the okay to return to work from the beginning of September. The college had kept in touch with me via regular emails and an occasional Zoom call. The most recent message set out a tentative timeline of when they proposed to start in-person learning again. I wasn't holding my breath though. Even though very few young people had succumbed to the virus, I still couldn't imagine being inside a lecture theater this side of Christmas. I decided I would go back to New York after my twenty-first birthday which fell on September 13th. I didn't inform Edward of my plans though. I wanted some time to myself in the apartment before seeing him.

I'd kept in contact with Professor Casey, sending her several drafts of my article. In June she'd emailed me to say her mother had died, but not of Covid. When the original symptoms persisted and she was finally admitted to the hospital, an x-ray showed her lungs were riddled with cancer. The end had been quick. I felt sorry for the Professor, especially when she told me she was a widow herself with no children. Now she had a father with dementia to look after and a mortgage. My problem with Jake paled into insignificance.

I'd debated long and hard whether to talk to Edward about the wolves. Whenever he called, which would happen about once every ten days, all he wanted to speak about was the virus and the clinic. He admitted he'd never worked so hard in his life and declared Carlisle and Esme to be saints. I felt happy to be the person he off-loaded onto. I doubt whether he had any friends close by in New York if he'd lived most of the time in Chicago. One time, he asked whether I'd considered donating plasma which could be used to increase antibodies if injected into sick patients. I agreed to speak to the police doctor about that when she next checked up on Dad which I did. She told me to wait until I returned to New York. I would have to travel to Seattle to donate which she didn't advise.

What happened in the forest still plays on my mind, mostly when I'm lying in bed. I alternate between believing the old legends about the Quileute becoming wolves and then I dismiss Quil A'teara's story as pure fantasy. For my own sanity what I've convinced myself is this. Without proof, such as body parts of the blonde woman being discovered and no one with her description being reported missing, that it didn't happen, and that I don't have the ability to kill anyone with a thought, like Darth Vadar. Jake has never mentioned the woman. Only Mike's description of the alleged professor in Carters has given what I thought was a dream some sort of credence. Maybe hallucinations are an effect of Covid? Maybe I'm in denial. Maybe I'm just too sensible to believe that the supernatural is an actual thing? From the day I left the reservation, I've been too busy looking after Dad, finishing my assignments, and working on my article about Berty, to give that night any sort of credibility other than what I actually heard from Jake's mouth. I'm still fifty-fifty on the wolves for that reason.

With the end of August only five days away, I've made up my mind that I'm not going to leave Forks without resolving my issue with Jake. He's been on my mind constantly over these past weeks, even more than Edward to be honest. The old adage 'blood is thicker than water' rings true. Even though Jake isn't my blood-brother, he is more than a brother, so our disagreement/ contretemps, whatever you want to call it, needs to be sorted before I fly almost three thousand miles away.

Rather than drive to the rez for a showdown in front of Billy, a couple of days ago I asked Mike to keep an eye on the workshop from his dad's store, and to call me if Jake turned up. Mike's message arrives while I'm making breakfast.

'He's there, working on a truck. Can't see anyone helping him.'

Dad had taken the car to go fishing with his buddy, Harry Clearwater, so I have to run all the way into town. When the workshop comes into view, I sneak up on the doors so that Jake won't spot me approaching. I don't want to give him the opportunity to pull down the shutters and pretend he isn't there. When I walk in, all I can see of Jake is a pair of bare legs sticking out from under a truck. They look much browner and hairier than I remember but I recognize his work boots. Those are definitely his legs.

"Be with you in a moment," he calls out. His voice seems deeper than before. Strange. Is Jake going through a second puberty?

While he bashes whatever needs fixing I can feel my anxiety levels rising. I hate confrontation at the best of times. This situation could easily be classed as the worst of times. The chances are we won't be able to resolve whatever it is that has come between us. I have to try though or I know I'll go back to New York feeling miserable. Now I feel sick. My stomach is clenching and unclenching. I want to run back home and cry.

I wait patiently until Jake rolls himself away from the truck. He looks up at me and it's obvious he's surprised to see me here. His expression changes but there's no warmth in his eyes. In fact, there is nothing in his face to say he is pleased to see me.

"I'm busy, Bella. I haven't got time to talk."

"When then?" I snap back. "I have the calendar app on my cell. Can I make an appointment? I'll pay your hourly rate."

"There's no need to be like that."

"Yes … there … is ... Jake. I'm not going back to New York while this wall exists between us. Something momentous has happened to you, I accept that. I also accept that you don't want to talk about it. Fine! Don't talk about it. But why can't we still be Jake and Bella, brother and sister, and best friends who love one another?"

"That's up to you," Jake says as he pulls himself up to tower over me. He's grown even taller since I last saw him. I have to crick my neck back to look at his face.

"What do you mean it's up to me? I don't know what you're talking about. What have I done to make you so pissed?"

"You're keeping something from me, Bella. Something important that affects me and my friends. I have no problem with you, other than the fact that you don't trust me, and of course the company you keep, which really bothers me?"

Jake turns his back on me and walks towards the bench where he picks up a rag to wipe his hands. 'The company I keep?' What does he mean?

"Who the hell are you referring to? You don't know any of my friends in New York. Is one of them an ax murderer or a pedophile? If that's the case, how long have you been stalking me?"

"I don't need to stalk you, Bella. I just know. Now go home. Go back to New York. Forks is not a good place for you anymore."

I open my mouth to respond but no words come out. Jake's last comment crushes me. I can feel myself crumbling and I can't stop what happens next. Tears blind my eyes. Pressure builds up in my head. I double-over in pain. Grief at losing my best friend coupled with the injustice of being accused of something when I don't know what I've done is too much. I sink onto the workshop floor and curl into a ball to protect myself from any more pain. The smell of oil afterward will always remind me of this moment when heartache reduced me to a sobbing wreck.

"Bella?" I hear Jake say but I can't respond. I'm overwhelmed by what's happened to me. I want to turn the clock back to the night he picked me up from Bainbridge. We were happy then. Not a care in the world. We were young and not in danger from the virus. We had our whole lives ahead of us. We even talked about getting married. Now, he doesn't want to know me.

"Bella, get up," he says and I feel his hands on my elbows.

"Leave me alone," I sob.

Jake walks away. I presume he's abandoned me to cry myself out. The next thing I hear is the rumble of the shutters dropping down. Jake switches the lights on before the workshop is plunged into darkness. He comes back to me and picks me up by my elbows without effort. When I straighten myself out he pulls me into his chest and hugs me. My feet are dangling at least a foot from the floor while I continue to sob. My body convulses through lack of air.

"Calm down," Jake whispers. "I'm not letting you go until you stop crying."

"I … don't … want … you … to … let … me … go," I reply between sobs. Jake's t-shirt by now is soaked with my tears. I make a supreme effort to control myself but it's impossible.

Jake carries me over to his desk at the back of the workshop. I presume he's going to put me on the chair. Instead, he turns me in his arms and sits down. I'm now on his lap, cuddled into his chest. The size of Jake compared to me takes me back to when I used to sit on Dad's lap when I was a kid. Dad would sometimes smell of oil when he'd been working on the car. I'm not exactly experiencing deja vu, but as near as dammit.

"You okay now?" Jake asks when my sobs have abated.

I nod my head. "Sorry, it all got a bit too much. I'll go now."

"No, you won't. You're right. We need to have this out. Let's make a deal. I'll be as honest as I can be with you, as long as you're honest with me. Promise?"

I nod my head again.

"No, Bella, you've got to say it."

I manage a half-smile as I say, "I promise."

"Okay … I promise too. I'll start."

I lean into Jake's chest. The rapid thump of his heart indicates that he's as wound-up as I am. He kisses the top of my head before he starts speaking.

"When you were in the cabin you recalled Quil A'teara's story about my ancestors who could change into wolf form when the Cold One's returned. Remember?"

"Yes, I remember. When I heard the wolves howling and saw the wolf pack in my dream, that brought the story back to me. The blue shape I think I saw was a woman. Was she actually one of the Cold Ones? I presumed that part of Quil A'teara's story was just a myth to scare the kids, like the Boogyman in the forest Dad warned me about."

Jake hesitates before responding. Could this question compromise his boundaries?

"Yes, she was," he confirms.

"Seriously? Cold Ones. They're real? Have some of your friends … become wolves then?"

That question is definitely a step too far.

"I'm not allowed to say, Bella. You can make your own presumptions about my refusal to confirm or deny. But I'm not lying when I tell you that I'm bound by secrecy not to say anymore. I would if I could because I trust you not to say anything about this to anyone, but I can't. I really can't."

"You know I won't say anything. I've promised. But if you can't tell me that, you must tell me what this has to do with somebody I allegedly know?"

Jake squeezes me tight and kisses my head again.

"Can you remember when I picked you up from Bainbridge? In the truck, I said you smelled of something that made me twitchy?"

"Yes. I washed all my clothes the next day, even though Charlie couldn't smell anything on me when I got in. What was the smell then?"

"I didn't know at the time because I'd never come across this before, but you'd been sitting or standing close to one or more of the Cold Ones. Their stink had transferred onto your clothing and set me off. The Cold One who met her end in the forest had been asking for you in the town the night before. We had to believe you knew her."

The shock of having confirmation that what I'd tried to convince myself hadn't happened, had actually happened, is offset by huge relief that Jake presumes the woman in Carters was the cause of his twitchiness. That means I won't have to mention the time I spent with Edward if he believes I have unknowingly been close to a Cold One.

"Jake, the woman I saw in my dream, whether or not it was a dream or real, I promise you, I had never set eyes on before. She is just a mystery to me as she is to you. I have no idea why she wanted to kill me."

I feel Jake's heart jump when I say that. Of course, he wouldn't know about the interaction between us.

"She wanted to kill you?"

"Yes, I could read her mind. She hated me. She wanted to do terrible things to me. I have absolutely no idea why though?"

"Tell me exactly what happened that night if you can remember. It's incredibly important that I know every detail."

"Okay. I distinctly remember that I stood at the window after Billy told me to go in. I wanted to watch the forest for the wolves. First of all, I heard their voices. I could make out words. One was shouting commands. The others were obeying. And then, I could see inside the forest."

"What do you mean 'you could see.' You have to explain how."

Even though I'm enjoying being cuddled on Jake's lap, I'm over-heating. "Can I sit up," I ask? "You're warm … like really really warm."

Jake allows me to pull away from his hold on me. There's a dark patch now on Jake's chest where I've rested my wet face against him. I rub my sleeves over my cheeks to dry the dampness before commencing with my explanation.

"Can you remember those Magic Eye 3D pictures that were popular when we were kids? If you stared at them in a certain way, you'd eventually see another picture hiding inside. There'd be a boat, or a bird, or a vehicle – something like that?"

"Yeah, I remember them. Why?"

"Well, I was staring at the forest when I realized I could see inside, past the treeline, just like the Magic Eye pictures. I saw everything that happened. The wolves first of all. They were huge. Then the woman, who I could only make out as a blurred shape at first. She moved so fast, leaping from tree to tree, and then she would drop to the ground when she got close to the perimeter of the forest. I guess she was trying to get to me. The wolves blocked her each time and she would leap back into the trees. I saw her climb the spruce, where she stopped moving long enough for me to make out what she was. She looked in my direction which is when we locked eyes and I was able to read her mind."

"What was she thinking?"

"That I would soon be dead, and this would be her revenge."

"Revenge for what?"

"I don't know."

"And then what happened."

"Well … we sort of got into a fight."

"A fight?"

"I can't explain because it was so weird. I threw her hate back at her if that makes sense. She could feel it I know as she began to struggle to maintain her concentration. I pushed harder and harder. I remember heat building inside my body and that she recognized this as power. And then … she stopped trying to defend herself. What's weird though is that she said something before she fell."

"What did she say?"

"She said … 'Now I understand who you are' … and then she let go. She just … sort of … gave up."

"You dreamed this?"

"Jake, I don't know. I think I can remember stepping away from the window and falling backward onto the bed, but that was after she fell, and after I saw the wolves attack her. I felt physically drained while I watched her being torn apart, as though all my energy had gone into defending myself. I didn't wake up until you banged on the door."

"So you'd definitely never seen this woman before?"

"I'm positive. She may have been in the airport, or on the plane, or the ferry, but I'm sure I would've remembered her. Those eyes were unreal."

Jake pulls me into his chest and hugs me. "Are you okay now?" he asks.

"I'm not going to start sobbing again if that's what you mean, but Jake, who are the Cold Ones? I'm not leaving here until you tell me. I'm frightened that another one might be out there wanting to avenge the dead woman. I've obviously pissed one of them in the past. I don't know how though."

Jake doesn't respond straight away. His silence annoys me after I've been totally honest.

"I'll look up 'Cold Ones' on the internet if you don't tell me, Jake. I'd rather you tell me though. I promise I won't say anything to anyone."

Jake groans. He knows I'll be like a dog with a bone until I find out what they are, with his help or without.

"Look, Bella, the world is not the safe place you think it is. Until the Night of the Wolves, as you've called it, I was ignorant too. The Cold Ones are the Quileute's deadliest enemies. We haven't had one on our land for over a century and now the Quileute will have to defend themselves against future invasions. If you are sure this one was after you, this changes things. They may not come back after you've gone."

"An invasion? How many of these fuckers are there out there?"

Jake grins at my curse word.

"We don't know. There could only be a few. There could be hundreds. There are no elders anymore who can give us first-hand advice."

I collapse against Jake's chest again. His heart rate has slowed. Mine feels more like I've swallowed a jackhammer. I'd dismissed my vision as a dream. I'd never taken the existence of Cold Ones seriously until now. After listening to Jake, I have to accept that unremarkable Bella has dipped her toe into a world that any sane person would describe as supernatural claptrap. Wolves, Cold Ones? What else is out there? Angels and Demons? No, that's a book, and a movie, with Tom Hanks.

What troubles me now is why I'm the target of a Cold One. Mike warned me that she'd been in Carter's asking questions, but somehow she'd found out I was on the reservation. Who had pointed her in my direction? What bothers me even more than that question though is where had my ability to see these visions come from? I need more information and Jake is my only source.

"So what are they … these Cold Ones? If another one comes after me, how can I defend myself?"

I pull away from Jake again and look into his eyes. I need to know if he's lying.

"Bella, if you were a normal girl you wouldn't have a hope in hell of defending yourself against even one of them, never mind an army. From what you've told me, you are definitely not normal. I don't understand how, but you were able to defend yourself from a distance. That's what staggers me the most. When the Cold One fell, we … I mean the wolves … could not understand why she let go. She could have got away across the treetops. We wouldn't have been able to stop her. She chose to fall. We don't … the wolves don't know why."

"Jake ... how do you know what the wolves were thinking? They are animals."

"Shit! Bella, just forget I said all that."

"I'll try, but you still haven't told me what the Cold Ones are."

"You don't need to know. All I would say to you is be on your guard, whether you're in Forks or anywhere else. Be wary of anyone who unnecessarily wears dark glasses, who avoids being touched, who looks … unusual."

"That's half of New York then."

Jake laughs at my joke but then becomes deadly serious again.

"Use your instincts, Bella. If in doubt, run for your life."

I ponder on Jake's advice for a while before asking ...

"So what do we do now?"

"You must go back to New York and get on with your life. I'll need to talk to my friends and family. This isn't over for us. It never will be now."

"I'm sorry if something I've done has started all this."

"No worries, Bella, because you didn't start this. The Cold One did by coming onto our land. Anyhow, it's not your fault that my ancestors were awesome."

I laugh this time. "I'd best go home. You have work to do."

"Nah … the truck can wait. My bike's out front. What do you think about a ride out to La Push?"

I take a nano-second to decide.

"That would be great. I'll call Charlie to tell him I won't be home for a while."

I jump off Jake's lap and rub my face again. A trip to the beach is exactly what I need.

While Jake closes up the workshop and calls the owner of the truck to lie about needing some parts so it won't be fixed until tomorrow, I run down to Mike's store to pick up some drinks and candy for the beach. Today is August 26th – possibly one of the last days of real summer in the Pacific Northwest. The air is warm, the sky is blue, and my best friend is my best friend again. Apart from having confirmation, well as good as, that my Quileute friends have the ability to turn into wolves, and one of their deadliest enemies had come to Forks to kill me, and I may or may not have had some part in killing her, life is good again.

As Jake and I speed down the 110 to the most beautiful beach in the whole wide world, I genuinely believe I couldn't be happier.

Crazy, foolhardy, irresponsible, but true.

So Bella has finally accepted that what happened, happened. She will leave Forks now and head back to Edward and New York (about time I hear you all grumbling). She still hasn't crossed the final bridge though and linked Edward to the scent Jake got twitchy about. She's more concerned about admitting to Jake she has fallen for a Paleface. The supernatural penny will drop very soon unsurprisingly.

Thanks again for the reviews and all your guesses. You guys are loving this feisty kick-ass Bella.

Joan x