Chapter 3: the woman from molokai

The afternoon sun beats down on Leah's bare back and arms as she walks across the beach. Her soles are warmed by the gritty sand, and the incoming tides tickle her toes. She pauses, lifting her sunglasses to gaze at the sparkling blue ocean and the lush green mountains in the backdrop. Seagulls caw in the clear skies, and a gentle breeze makes her sundress flutter around her legs. It's nothing short of a paradise here.

Leah stops in front of a hole-in-the-wall a few paces from the empty lifeguard post. Straw roofing provides shade over the concrete patio, and the lack of walls and windows allow for the breeze to freely weave through the empty restaurant. It's silent, save for the fan sputtering on the bar's counter and the low chattering of a TV in the back room.

A woman stands behind the bar, hacking away at a watermelon with a cleaver. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face in two braids that fall past her waist. She's tall and tanned, dressed in a bright, oversized red top with a tacky floral print. She glances up at Leah with a smile on her face, and freezes.

The woman locks her gaze on Leah as she takes a step back. In a split second her eyes switch to an aquamarine and she snarls, instinctively reactive to an unknown werewolf breaching her territory. She remains eerily still except for her eyes, which frenetically rake over Leah's form. Her nostrils flare once, and confusion shifts her expression.

"Your eyes haven't cooled yet," she realizes. "You're a pup still."

Leah nods sullenly. "A late bloom," she confirms.

The woman finally relaxes her stance with a slight nod, granting Leah entry.

Leah ducks her head, loosening her own tense muscles and stepping past the invisible line that marks the woman's domain. "Good afternoon..." Leah begins. She glances at the woman's name tag and fights a smirk. "...Kim."

"Aloha," 'Kim' greets her with a renewed smile. "You don't smell like a wolf, you know. But your scent is still… other. It's unique."

Leah nods, coming to a stop in front of the bar. "It's been that way since I was born," she replies. Her family didn't know what to make of it, and neither did she.

'Kim' hums. "How interesting."

Leah glances at the empty barstools, and her eyes catch on that tacky shirt again, noting the peculiar way the fabric is draped over her form. It takes her a second, but Leah's ears prick at the sound of a soft, fluttering heartbeat. 'Kim' narrows her eyes and places a protective hand on her stomach, highlighting the swell hidden beneath her shirt.

Leah averts her eyes to show she's no threat. "Mind if I sit?"

"Go right ahead," 'Kim' says, relaxing. She whips out a napkin and places it on the bar in front of Leah. "One second…" She turns around, cupping a hand around her mouth and yells, "Em, come take this customer's order!"

There's a groan, and a male voice yells back, "I'm watching my soap operas!"

'Kim' sneers. "That fucking brat," she hisses. She stabs the cleaver into a cutting board. "Fuck your soap operas and bring your ass out here!"

Leah snickers. "He sounds like a lovely employee."

'Kim' snorts. "My brother is a piece of work," she grumbles. She slides a few wedges of watermelon toward Leah. "Sometimes I question if we're related."

"Hey!" the man yells indignantly.

'Kim' slams her fist against the counter, making Leah jump. "What the hell did I just ask you to do, and why aren't you doing it?!" she shouts. She snatches up the cleaver and begins to angrily chop the rind from a pineapple. "Lazy fucker…"

"Alright, alright already!" the man complains. "Goddamn hormonal woman…"

There's stomping footsteps and the beaded curtain covering the entrance to the back room swishes to the side. The man steps out with a sour expression on his face. He's even taller than his boss, with equally long hair pulled into a ponytail and black gauges in his ears. A well worn Metallica t-shirt is stretched taut over his lanky form. His hazel eyes bleed into blue when he sees Leah, but a tch from the woman makes him settle.

He pouts and moves into Leah's personal space, asking in a bored voice, "What do you want?"

Leah angles away from him with a quirk in her eyebrow. "A mai tai," she responds.

The man looks incredulous as he leans against the counter, moving further into Leah's face without much care. "A mai tai? In the middle of the day?"

'Kim' growls and points her cleaver at the man. "It's five o'clock somewhere, Embry! If she wants a mai tai, then get her a fucking mai tai!"

Embry scowls. "Why do I always have to get the drinks?" he demands. He grabs Leah's stool, scurrying to her left side and pointing angrily at 'Kim' as he leans his head over Leah's shoulder like her body is a shield. "Why can't you get it for once?!"

"Because I'm the boss," 'Kim' hisses, raising the cleaver threateningly. Embry backs away with a yelp. "Now shut up and get this woman her drink!"

Embry stomps toward the back door and pauses. "Maggie got poisoned by Heather," he blurts out. He ducks out of the way with another yelp when 'Kim' shrieks in outrage and throws the cleaver toward his head.

"I told you not to tell me any General Hospital spoilers!" she screams.

Embry's laughter echoes in the back room, and Leah covers her mouth to hide her smile. 'Kim' rolls her eyes and yanks the cleaver out of the wall.

"Sorry about that…" she mutters, returning to her chopping. She glances up at Leah. "First time in Molokai? We don't get much of our kind visiting around here."

Leah nods. "Yes. I came to see a woman, actually."

'Kim' wiggles her eyebrows. "You have a special lady friend in Molokai?"

"Not quite," Leah says. "I've never met her."

"You came all the way out here for someone you've never met before?" 'Kim' wonders at that. "May I ask who this mystery woman is? It's a small island. I might know her."

"You would know her, since it's you," Leah says, resting her chin on her hands. "Rebecca Black."

She stops chopping, and in the back room glass crashes to the floor. "What do you want with me?" she asks in a light voice.

"I need a weapon."

The Black family was renowned for making weapons imbued with wolf magic, designed to kill vampires. The art was passed down from several generations, and as the firstborn in the latest generation, born mere minutes before her twin sister, Rebecca was trained up to take the mantle as the next weapons master of the Black family.

"Why?"

"I have vermin to kill," Leah replies in an even voice, clenching her fists on the bar.

Rebecca stares at her for a few seconds, assessing. She sets the cleaver down with a huff and turns the fan off. "Descriptive," she mutters under her breath. She rips the name tag off and says in a clipped tone, "Come."

She shimmies from behind the bar, calling over her shoulder for Embry to watch the shop while she's gone. Leah follows her outside to a secluded area in the bushes. She watches Rebecca crouch with a grunt and brush some sand away, revealing a trapdoor. Rebecca lifts the hatch and gestures for Leah to go first.

Leah walks down the sandy stairs, yanking on a pull-chain that brushes against her shoulder. A light flickers on, and Leah is greeted by wall to wall shelves of Rebecca's arsenal of weaponry. There's an array of firearms and blades, and the hairs on Leah's arms stand as she feels them all pulse with dangerous magic.

She reverently runs a finger against the shelves. Her eyes are bright as she takes everything in, full of excitement and trepidation all at once. Her hand reaches out for a sickle with a red gemstone embedded in the handle, but Rebecca's voice makes her halt.

"Not that one," Rebecca calls. Leah freezes, glancing over her shoulder at Rebecca watching her with careful eyes. "Try the second one down."

Leah turns back to the shelf and her eyes dart to where Rebecca indicated. Her eyes land on a machete sheathed in a leather scabbard. Slowly, carefully, Leah lifts the machete from the shelf and shudders at the sheer power she can feel radiating from the leather alone. With a jittery laugh, she unsheathes the machete by an inch. A low hum emits from the blade as she stares into her reflection, and her eyes glow a brighter blue of their own accord.

She unsheathes the machete entirely, and the singing of the blade is even louder. She pants with the intensity of it, finding herself oddly aroused. A flush envelopes her cheeks.

"Funny," Rebecca remarks, weighing a brick in her right hand. "You're the first one to have that kind of reaction."

She hurls the brick at Leah without warning. Leah reacts without thought, swinging the machete at the projectile. The brick breaks into two, and the sliced ends of the halves are charred and glowing. Small pillars of smoke rise from the blade.

Rebecca gives her a proud smile. "You have a lovely technique," she says.

Leah nods her head, lowering her arms. "Thanks," she whispers.

"But you should know, I'm not making any weapons at this time," Rebecca informs her. She places a hand on her belly. "Not until Jacob Jr. is born. That kind of magic takes too much energy, and I'm already depleted from growing this little guy."

"Then give me one of these," Leah insists.

Rebecca holds her hand out for the machete. "These aren't for sale. They're either other people's orders, or they're being held for sentimental value." She sheathes the weapon with a chuckle, returning it to the shelf and walking back to the stairs. "Besides, why should I help you?"

"Because my vermin, among many others, is Isabella Marie."

Leah dodges a tanto knife thrown near her head. She turns to Rebecca with a snarl, but the woman is staring back at her with unseeing, hate-filled blue eyes. Her hand, frozen in the air from her throw, curls into a fist as she brings it back to her side. Her expression melts into an apologetic grimace.

The Black family's hatred for Bella is soul deep and grievously personal; they all blame her for the death of their youngest boy, Jacob Black. Consumed with grief, Rebecca moved away from her homeland to the quiet island of Molokai when her father's devastation over her younger brother's death became too much to live with.

"What did she do now," Rebecca spits.

"Massacred my husband and friends," Leah says without emotion. Her voice cracks with anger at her next words. "Helped kill my little brother."

Rebecca's answering snarl makes Leah's hair stand on end.

"So I'd say you have something to gain from this, too, don't you think?" Leah whispers.

Rebecca sighs shakily, wiping a trembling hand across her eyes. "I truly can't make you anything good in my condition," she murmurs. "Embry will have to do it."

"Is Embry-"

"Not the father. Sol is away on tour. Embry is my half-brother." Rebecca shrugs. "He and Jacob were thick as thieves even before we found out. Em is just as capable as I am and he'll be more than willing to do it. He has our father's blood in him."

Leah nods, mollified. "Alright."

"You can stay with us," Rebecca continues. "It'll take a month to put something together for you." Her eyes lock with Leah's. "I suggest you spend that time soaking up as much sun as you can. This might be your last opportunity... You'll be a wanted woman after this."

A month later, Leah's skin is bronzier than she ever thought it was capable of, and her eyes have finally returned to their original brown. She sits in front of a bonfire, and on the other side sits Rebecca and Embry, both dressed in the red and black regalia of their tribe. Sol, a silent, herculean sized man with black tattoos on his chest and forearms, sits on his knees dressed in a sarong a few paces behind them.

They're seated on the beach, performing the gifting ceremony under the stars.

Embry presents her with the first weapon: a dagger. The handle is fashioned from jade, and the blade is pure silver. He holds the dagger out above the flames, and Leah gingerly takes it from him. She admires it in the light of the flames with a smile.

"We don't usually fashion weapons to kill our own kind," Rebecca murmurs, "but we're making an exception given the… circumstances."

Her second and final weapon is a katana, and it sings from within the wooden scabbard. Embry holds the bottom end of the scabbard and thrusts the katana into the flames. The scabbard remains unscathed and the symbols carved into it glow a bright red.

Leah pulls the handle to unsheathe the blade, and once again she is aroused by the blade's serenade. Embry walks around the flames, holding the scabbard, and Leah sheathes it once more. She nods in thanks to the duo.

Embry's face is a dark cloud. "It's my finest work," he intones.

"Make sure that bitch knows where those blades came from," Rebecca says in a quiet rage. "And send her straight to hell!"

Leah's eyes burn as they turn blue. A wicked smile spreads on her face, and her teeth feel sharper than usual. "Yes," she hisses.

That evening she books her flight back to her childhood home: Washington state.

So yes, Jacob is already dead. We'll find out the backstory behind that later.

Any guesses about who's first on the kill list?