CHAPTER NINE: SOMETHING SUPERNATURAL

I WASN'T SURE WHAT THE HELL I WAS DOING HERE. Was I trying to push myself deeper into the dark abyss of mental anguish? Had I turned masochistic—developed a taste for torture? I should have been driving straight down to La Push. I felt much, much healthier, more myself, somewhat alive when I was with just Jacob and Seth. This was not a healthy thing to do, nor remotely rational.

I knew this, and yet I continued to drive slowly down the overgrown lane, twisting through the trees that arched over me like a green, living tunnel. My hands were damp with cold sweat and shaking, so I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.

Ever rational part of my brain that remained begged me to stop, to turn around, drive away, and never look back. And how I wished that I could've obeyed. I knew that this was lunacy. I should be very concerned for my mental health, actually petrified that I truly was descended down into true madness, but not because I was purposefully placing myself in a location that I knew would harm me. It was the notion of why I was doing this that should terrify me.

As I approached the Cullen's abandoned manor I thought back to earlier morning hours of yesterday. I had awoken far earlier than I needed too, but was too petrified of my nightmare to even risk going back to sleep. I had thrown the comforter and sheets off my body, coated in sweat, still warm from the bright sun that shined on me like a spotlight against a storm ridden sky. I had turned on all the lights, including the small lamp that sat at my desk, and had torn loose a sheet of watercolor paper. I began sketching the strange city as best I could, having recited it to memory. At the center was the tall clocktower. In the dream I knew that it was the clocktower specifically, both hands pointing directly on the twelfth hour, that would cause a destruction, a misery that I knew not.

I recalled the jubilant crowd, I added several red-cloaked figures, those whose faces could be seen were smiling, laughing, as though mocking the peril I was in. The insurmountable danger Edward was in.

I had continued to work on the piece after school, but even when it was finished, I found no answers, no clues that could aide me. All the while I was reprimanding myself, berating myself for even considering the notion that this was anything more than a dream.

"No", I said to myself, even now as I drove, I knew that it was not just merely a nightmare. It should have been impossible, but I was sure that the scene that haunted me in my sleep was some kind of premonition. I had embraced that knowledge in the late evening hours while staring at the painted scene in the two-dimension. As my room was illuminated by the bright blue lightening, while the house seemed to shake from the thunder, I had sat at my desk and thought back on everything. I recalled each strange experience I'd had since his departure, and truly throughout the course of my life. They were things that had never made sense, that I had always just brushed aside. Coincidences, intuition, lucky guesses—something of the rational world, or were they? Apprehensively, apart of me was beginning to suspect that, maybe, it had always been something supernatural. It should have been impossible. For me at least. I knew firsthand that the world of the supernatural and paranormal were not mere folklores or fables written in literature and displayed countlessly on film. I knew that that world, fully existed.

But I was not part of that world. Not anymore, certainly not as someone or something that belong in it. He had said so himself. But there were things that I could not explain. How easy it had always been for me to read people, to anticipate their thoughts without reading them, to guess their needs and motivations, to see beyond whatever mask they tried to wear. And more lately, more troubling, the nightmares that were always too real, too vivid to just be images conjured up by my subconscious.

And there had been that one night, in Port Angels, where I had been confronted by several of the same men who had nearly attacked me a year prior, where I had seen him, heard him. And even beforehand, when he was still here I had seen our first kiss playing out in my mind, like a very strong memory, before it had occurred while I spoke with Jessica about our first date. I had a similar thing happen twice during my first conscious moments with Edward in the hospital room back in Phoenix. Again, not as vivid as the dreams, but like a strong memory, the vision and the emotions tied with it very real. Edward and I marching towards one another, Edward holding in his arms a small child with black hair.

I tried to ration with myself, tried to convince myself that I was going insane, that the images in the hospital were due to the drugs, that everything that had happened was either me reading into what I needed to read into, or that after everything and not seeking professional help or being honest with anyone, I was finally breaking.

But at the same time, I knew that the paranormal did, in-fact, exist. And I knew, that while it was most likely just me going insane, me needing to be locked away in some mental institution, there was a chance that something else was going on.

I had sat across my laptop, doing what little research I could, but found nothing of substance. There had been more compelling information on vampires than any of this. And the only true psychic that I knew, the only person who could perhaps help me decipher my own vision, was long gone. And, until I was proven otherwise, it was a premonition. There was something to search for.

Unattainable and impossible... but he was out there, somewhere. I had to believe that, and something was coming, for him. I tried to find reason, clues hidden within the same vision each night. The sea of red cloaks, was that to represent some sort of bloodshed, fire? The fear, anguish and dispare that ravaged me, was that all mine, or part of his? The strange city square, that I was so confident had been built prior to the existence of the Holy Roman Empire, was that to represent the age of the threat, or the timelessness of the situation at hand, that love seldom is able to conquer all.

These violent delights have violent ends, and if their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume.

Another thing that had troubled me, was why I was having this premonition in the first place. Edward had, cruelly, informed me that I had been nothing but a mere, flickering interest, that had captured his interest only because I was an enigma to him. His words had cut into me like the sharpest of daggers, had ravaged me worse than anything Alexander MaCoy or his friend Jericho ever had. Yet, I had known then, as we stood in the rain, that he was lying. Lying to himself and to me. As I continued to drive down the once familiar driveway, I understood that he had done what he had out of love. Hyde, the traitorous, darker aspect of Edward had convinced him that he was a monster, an evil that continuously put my life at risk. This did not excuse him, whatsoever. While I could never bring myself to hate him, I was still angry at him; it was a rage that I was unaware I was capable of. He'd still hut me, regardless of his true intentions. And when I saw him next, I would be sure to let him have it.

However, in the deepest, secretest part of my heart, I knew that he still loved me. And regrettably, maybe regrettably, I still loved him. I would always love him.

And I knew that he was in danger. Of what, and how, were mysteries, but I knew that something was coming. And even if I never got to see him in my waking world ever again, or if the reunion was cruelly brief, I knew that I would never forgive myself if I did not try, somehow, to prevent the danger that was coming for him. Going back, entering the house would hurt me, but I would not let this destroy me. I couldn't. Not when his life somehow hanged in the balance. He needed me, and in that knowledge I would find the strength to persevere.

Still, the words, his words, ran through my head, tonelessly, like I was reading them rather than hearing them spoken: It will be as if I'd never existed.

The thick, almost jungle-like growth crawled slowly past my windows. The drive wound on and on. I started to go faster, getting more panicked as I went on. How long had I been driving? Shouldn't I have reached the house yet? The lane was so overgrown that it did not look familiar.

What if I couldn't find it? I felt a chilling shiver run along the length of my spine. What if there was no tangible proof at all?

Then there was the break in the trees that I was looking for, only it was not so pronounced as before. The flora here did not wait long to reclaim any land that was left unguarded. The tall ferns had infiltrated the meadow around the house, crowding against the trunks of the cedars, even the wide porch. It was like the lawn had been flooded—waist-high—with green, feathery waves.

But the house was there, but it was not the same. Though nothing had changed on the outside, the emptiness screamed from the blank windows.

It was creepy. And not in the good way. The large, Victorian manner truly seemed to appear haunted. Truly befitting for a family of vampires.

I hit the brakes, looking away. I was weary of going further, the conviction from earlier waining. I turned my head to stare at my painted vision that sat next to me on the passenger-side seat. I let myself remember the emotions I felt each night as the premonition played out. The panic, the anguish, unsure if they were my emotions, if they belonged to him, or if we each shared in them. I tore my eyes back to the house, bit down on my bottom lip, and shut off the engine, jumping out into the fern sea.

I approached the barren, vacant face slowly, my truck's rumbling engine finally dying out as it rested, leaving no sound around me. I stopped when I got to the porch stairs, because there was nothing here. No lingering sense of their presence... of his presence. The house was solidly here, but it meant little. Its conical towers, gingerbread shingles and hardwood reality would not counteract the nothingness of the past months.

I closed my eyes, and slowly stepped forward, placing my foot on the first stair. I waited, and took in a deep breath. I opened my eyes and continued up the stairwell until I was across the front door. My hand hovered over the intricate, bronze doorknob, never touching. I stared at the door for a minute, counting down in my head, before gripping the knob and turning it.

It was unlocked.

The door creaked loudly as I opened it, the air of the house stale and dry. Hesitantly I stepped in. A rush of cold air assaulted my body as I entered into the foyer. What furniture was left was covered in white sheets, including Edward's favorite grand piano. I stood in there, letting the tears well up in my eyes before they fell down my cheeks. The house, this house had once been my second home, was now so cold. I gazed upon the dust littered sheets, glared up the dark stairwell, and my lips trembled. I could not help but to remember the last night that I had been here, the night that had cost me everything. The grand Victorian, like me, was now a shell of itself. I allowed the hollow, horrific cry to erupt from my mouth as I stood in the center of where I had once felt the safest.

I pushed aside the pain as quickly as it came, reminding myself there I had a mission to accomplish. Violently, I wiped away the tears, and focused on my resolve. I tore myself from where I stood, and up the large staircase. I soared through the landing, down the hallway, and towards his room. His scent, so lovely, so much like roses and old book pages rattled my senes. When I opened the door to his room I was surprised to find it unchanged, save for the thick layers of dust that littered each inch of every surface. Once more, I was frozen, standing in the entryway, memories stacked atop memories slamming into me. I recalled the first time I had ever stood foot in his room, the happy nights in the summer I had stay over, him and I wrapped up together on his couch. And slowly, reminding myself again of the reason I was here, I entered. A long, shaky breath escaped from my flailing nostrils. My fingers strummed the shelves that held his hundreds of Vinyl records and CDs, instantly recalling the hours we spent simply listening to his favorite music, dancing together, our bodies swaying effortlessly. The pain stung me, fresh as ever. And yet I moved forward.

I searched his room for any clue that could help me discover why his life would be in peril, but found nothing. After an hour of going through everything, I let my frustration get the better of me. I threw the old, first addition copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray that had been left on his couch, across the room and screamed. Surely, this was madness. I wasn't capable of visions like Alice, whose visions depended on the immediate actions of those involved. This dream, this premonition, seem so sure, set in stone, which was rare even for Alice.

One part of my brain argued that this was the evidence that I needed to prove that I was just going insane. I began storming out of the room when I noticed that something had fallen out from in between the cover and pages. Curious, I knelt down to examine it. It was a photo. One of my favorite photos of Edward and I. It was the one my mother had taken of us right before prom, standing outside the Cullen's yard, in front of one of the large redwood trees. I felt fresh tears form in my eyes as I reached to pick up what remained of the photo. He had torn it, leaving behind the half he was focused in.

I felt bitterness seep into my sorrow, longing, and misery all swirl together. I cried out as the memory, a memory that was not mine, but his, play out in my head. He had taken the photo from its frame, had torn the half that I was featured in, and had placed it in his shirt pocket. He had thrown his half of the photo into a book that reminded him of himself.

I dropped the torn photo, and flung my hands over my mouth to muffle my cries. I was positive in my assertion that the borrowed memory was his, had been real, and that it confirmed my belief that wherever he was, he still loved me.

I allowed myself to feel every emotion that came with this knowledge. I was angry and hurt, knowing that this suffering was not only mine, but ours jointly. That he had robbed us both of our joy, and had set back the growth and healing we'd done beyond where we had started.

I screamed, so loudly, so forcefully that I was sure I would be hoarse for days. There was so much anger, so much rage that I had concealed that needed to escape. The thunder drowned out my anguished cries, the lightening was visible through my shut eyes. My brain registered the pounding of the wind, forcing branches to crash into the windows and the sides of the house, but I was too caught in my grief to worry. When I was done screaming I began to cry, heaving wretchedly on the floor as I curled up into the fetal position. I let the tears run as they soaked my face and the golden carpet below me. Mucus ran from each nostril, and soon I found that it was difficult to capture my breath. Months of pent up pain poured out, and I was not strong enough to put the plug back into the gapping hole.

I'm not sure how long this went on, only that when I felt my heart hammering in my chest, felt how raw and wet my eyes burned, panting, taking short, quick breaths, did I feel like I was finished. I wipes my face with the sleeves of my sweater, blinking several times to bat away the tears that still remind glued to my eyelashes. I wiped my mouth and nose, and pushed myself from off the floor. Quickly, and quietly, I left the room, shutting the door on my way out.

When I turned away, I noticed, still through tearstained eyes, the empty space far across me, on the wall where the imprint of a large crucifix had once hang. Immediately, I felt called towards Carlisle's office.

I walked down the long hallway, and entered the room. It, unlike Edward's, was empty. The walls of shelves stood void of anything, the large desk gone, the paintings along with it. The paintings. My head spun towards one of the barren walls, gazing towards were paintings once littered. I walked over towards where they had once been hung proudly, where Edward had explained his family's history for me. Gingerly, I touch my fingers over the stained walls.

I felt a sudden pull, as though my neck and back were horribly yanked by some invisible force from behind. My vision changed, I was no longer in the empty room, but rather standing in the center of a large party. The attendants were decorated in clothes that were far beyond my time, from the looks of it, around the late seventeenth century. I seemed to be unnoticed by anyone, as the partygoers danced merely, laughing joyously. The sound of blissful music wafted into my ears. I turned around, frightened, though still seemingly invisible. I gazed upward, towards a large balcony above the ballroom floor. Standing above me were four men. They were dressed more elegantly than those who danced around, three of whom were dressed more darkly than anyone else I could see.

Instantly, I recognized Carlisle, who had been the one of the four men to dress in clothes the color of gold and white. He looked, uneasy, and I could sense that while he may have referred to the others as his friends, he was weary of them, and rightfully so. They stood with an aura of regality and dominance. Two of them had long, black hair that fell well passed their shoulders, the other had white hair that hung in similar length.

I knew these men. Edward had told me about them. The leaders of the Volturi. The nighttime patrons of the arts. Behind them stood strangers in dark cloaks, whose faces I could not see. Their presences were menacing, nearly…demonic. I stared into the eyes of the youngest looking of the three men, the one who I believed was the one named Aro. His red eyes met mine, and in them I found only malice and hunger. He smiled down at me, possessively. I began to back away, as his cold gaze continued to bore into mine, his eyes growing hungrier with every passing moment. I opened my mouth to call out to Carlisle, but felt something like a rubber band breaking just behind my navel, and I was back in Carlisle's empty study.

I didn't move. My breath was caught in my throat, and I felt my mouth open and close like a fish out of water.

I ran from the room, down the stairwell, out of the front door all the while trying to suppress my screams. I did not understand what had just happened, why or how I had seemingly transported through time and space in my waking hours as I had done in my sleep. Was I even awake? Or was this truly the evidence that I needed to prove that I was not not going crazy. That everything I had seen, Edward alone in the deserted shed in the desert valley, Edward chasing Victoria in the arctic wood, Edward running through time towards my room, standing over me as I slept, ensuring that I was alive and safe, a city square filled with patrons in red, was real? Was I going crazy? Was this what slipping into madness felt like, look like? Or was I, impossibly, truly seeing images of the future and past? Had everything been real, not delusions, but something supernatural. Edward had once mentioned that I had an apparent gift, though he had specified it resembled Jasper's, not his, not Alice's. Nothing like this. I sat in my truck's cab, the blistering storm raging on just outside. I thought back to the borrowed memory, to the vision of the past.

A loud chiming broke through the silence. I lurched myself against the driver's slide door, my right hand flying towards my chest, landing just over my heart. It was just my phone, I had left it next to the accursed painting.

It was Seth.

I took a breath and cleared my throat. "Hey, Seth," I said into the phone, my voice raspy and thick.

"Are you okay?" Seth asked sounding worried.

"Yeah, I'm totally fine. Just ah—just overdid it at rehearsal today," I lied, having feigned a sore throat to get out of today's rehearsal before leaving school.

"Are you going to be okay for the show?"

I nodded, even though Seth couldn't see me. "Yeah, next week's just Hellweek, plenty of time to get everything set."

"Hellweek?" Seth asked confused. I rolled my eyes.

"Tech-week," I clarified, "I told you and Jake about it, that you two would need to be up at the school each day next week."

Seth instantly recalled, apologizing for the initial confusion, though the fault was mine.

"Yup. I'm helping a friend from school with some homework, but I'll be up at Jakes after. Are you still heading over there?"

"I'm on my way," I said as I revved the engine to life.

"Cool. We'll drive safe. I'll see yah later."

"Bye, Seth," I said quickly before ending the call. I opened Spotify and selected some random playlist before turning on the stereo. I adjusted the volume so that it was at its highest, my truck shaking as a result. I nearly stomped on the gas as I tore my way out of the long, reclaimed driveway, not daring to look back at the house through the rearview mirror.

I was anxious to be gone, to get back to the human world. I felt hideously empty, confused, and fearful. The music did nothing to prevent me from fixating on the events that I was driving so madly away from. There were only two options before me. Option A: I was already insane, having begun the development of schizophrenia, the option that was the most rational, that any sane person would conclude if I shared with them what had just transpired. Or, impossibly the more frightening option, Option B: I had always had, or was beginning to develop supernatural talents.

I tried to control my breathing, making sure that I was driving at a reasonable speed limit, as my windshield wipers and tries struggled against the onslaught of the ensuing storm. I needed to ground myself. I couldn't think clearly, not right now. I needed to get to the two people who had managed to bring some form of lightness, back into my life. My brother and Jacob were waiting for me, I reminded myself. They would instantly be able to tell if something were amiss. I had to regain my composure, and put aside what had just occurred until I was in the safety of my bed.

Miraculously, I appeared normal and calm by the time I had reached La Push. My chest seemed to relax as soon as I saw Jake, making it easier to breathe. "Hey, Beau," he called.

I smiled in relief. "Hey, Jacob," I waved at Billy, who was looking out the window.

"Let's get to work," Jacob said in a low but eager voice.

I was somehow able to laugh. "Seth called, he said he was helping a friend with some school work," I explained.

Jacob nodded, leading the way around the house to his garage. "Oh I know, his friend, is that girl he's been talking to all semester."

"You're kidding," I said, my mouth dropping. Jacob and I had both been urging Seth to pluck up the courage and speak with his crush, Eliza Blackwood, for weeks now. "I wonder why he didn't say anything?"

"Probably because he's worried we'd give him a hard time if we knew."

"Why would he think that?"

"Because we are going to give him a hard time," Jacob said with a smile as though that were obvious. I lightly smacked his arm, not realizing how much of it were muscle, and thus how much even a light smack would hurt.

"We are not," I commanded, knowing how self-conscious Seth could be.

Jacob laughed. "Whatever," he said rolling his eyes.

"I mean it, Jacob," I said sternly.

"Whatever you say, Dad," he added sarcastically.

"Wait, how do you know he's with Eliza?" I asked taking my usual seat as Jacob began working on the bikes.

"Embry told me," he answered, "he saw them as he was leaving the school."

To this I said nothing, still not found of Embry or Quil, not after the last couple of interactions I've had with them.

"Are you two seriously not sick of me yet?" I wondered, changing the subject. I wondered if he and Seth must be starting to ask themselves how desperate I was for company. Or why I chose to spend so much of my free time with them, rather than my friends from Forks.

"Nope. Not yet."

"Please let me know when I start getting on your nerves. I don't want to be a pain in your ass."

"Okay." He laughed, a hearty, throaty sound. "I wouldn't hold your breath for that, though."

I focused my attention away from Jacob and back to the bikes, shocked that I had not noticed them beforehand. Each of them, the red and black bike were standing, finally looking like real motorcycles rather than heaps of scrapped junk.

"You really are something Jake. What you and Seth have done is nothing short of amazing," I stated, truthfully.

He laughed again. "I get obsessive when I have a project." He shrugged. "If I had any brains I'd drag it out a little bit."

"Why's that?"

He looked down, pausing for so long that I wondered if he hadn't heard my question. Finally, he asked me, "Beau, Seth and I.. if I told you that I couldn't fix these bikes, what would you say?"

I didn't answer right away, either, and he glanced up to check my expression. The memory of what I had done earlier seeped into my mind. I shook the hour, the memories and vision at the Cullen's out of my head.

"I would say... that's too bad, but I'll bet we could figure out something else to do. If we got really desperate, we could even do homework."

Jacob smiled, and his shoulders relaxed. I got the distinct impression, that there was a part of Jacob, though small, that worried I'd only been over so much because of his mechanical expertise. He was worried that once this was over, my visits would go back to being sporadic, or stop altogether.

I felt great guilt for ever having given him that impression. He sat down next to the bike and picked up a wrench. "You know, it's been nice having you around. It's like when we were kids. You were also so sure of yourself, I really looked up to it. And you liked having me around, more than my sisters did." Ahh so the overly protective, big bother presence wasn't only just for Seth's benefit, Jacob longed for it as well. "So you think you'll still come over when I'm done, then?"

"Is that what you meant?" I shook my head. "I guess I am taking advantage of your very underpriced mechanical skills. But as long as you let me come over, as long as you and Seth want, I'll be here. Always. I'm sorry that we ever even drifted."

Jake laughed. "Hey, that's life. We appreciate each other more now. Though, Quil and Embry may be around more often the more you're here," he teased.

"Ehh. Please, they both seem to hate me," I said without filter. "Or at the very least, they're weary of me. What the fuck did I do to either of them in the first place?"

Jacob seemed to freeze as his body grown ridged.

"Cullen," I heard Jacob say swiftly.

I felt my face snarl into an ugly scowl. "What does Edward have to do with anything?" I demanded to know, my voice cold as I recalled again the earlier events of the afternoon. Jacob looked at me startled.

"How did he?"

I turned to look at Jacob, his mouth sealed shut. He hadn't said a thing. I felt my eyes widen. Jacob hadn't mentioned Edward verbally, only internally.

No, I screamed to myself, feeling my heart rate increase.

Jacob seemed oblivious, perhaps a bit perplexed. He chuckled. "You really like spending time with us then?" he asked, changing the subject.

It took me a forced moment, but I answered. "Yes. Very, very much. And I'll prove it. I have to work tomorrow, but Wednesday we, you, Seth and I, will do something nonmechanical."

"Like what?"

"I have no idea. We can go to my place so you two won't be tempted to be obsessive. You could bring your schoolwork—I know you have to be getting behind, and I know I'm partial to blame. A vey bad influence."

"Homework might be a good idea." He made a face, and I wondered how much he hated the thought, I knew Jacob, unlike Seth or I, was none too concerned about school .

"Yes," I agreed. "We'll have to start being responsible occasionally, or our parents aren't going to be so easygoing about this, especially when it comes to Seth." I made a gesture indicating the two of us as a single entity, with Seth missing. My mother as wonderful as she was, took to Seth as though he were her own child, just as Sean had with me. He was her baby now. She worried and fretted over him in ways she had with me, the way I had seen Esme stress over her own children. It had surpassed me, when I head realized it, but I knew I was happy that my mother had another son, a spare. In the event that, I could not help but think back to my premonition—if something were to ever happen to me.

"Homework once a week?" he proposed.

"I've seem your homework. Maybe we'd better go with twice," I suggested, thinking of the pile I'd just been assigned today.

He sighed a heavy sigh. Then he reached over his toolbox to a paper grocery sack. He pulled out two cans of soda, cracking one open and handing it to me. He opened the second, and held it up ceremoniously.

"Here's to responsibility," he toasted. "Twice a week."

"And recklessness every day in between," I emphasized. He grinned and touched his can to mine.

Seth had been too busy to join us. I got home later than I'd planned and found that my mother and Sean had ordered a pizza rather than wait for me. They wouldn't let me apologize.

I recalled the memories of the conversation Jake and I had had over the course of the previous months.

"You don't mind," my mother assured me. "You deserve a break from all the cooking, anyway."

I knew she was just relieved that I was spending more time with my step-brother and the son of her best friend.

I called my father after listening to a voicemail he had left. He went on about his family trip to Disneyland with Loretta, her relatives and Hector. He gushed over every detail that he could have provided. I made sure to pay attention, to avoid thinking back to earlier at the Cullens, speaking with him as I followed his frazzled story. I had shared with him what my dad had been like and what I had done, save for any mention of breaking into the old Victorian and everything with the motorcycles. Even happy-go-lucky Reed was likely to be alarmed by that.

School on Wednesday had its ups and downs. Angela, Jessica, MaKayla along with Michelle, Kyle and Tony seemed, as always, excited to see me. Jeremy, Lauren and Tyler, not so much. Recently, though never outrightly saying names, they seemed to have been eager to throw Edward and the rest of the Cullen's absence in my face. Lauren especially seemed gratified when I grew silent and stared elsewhere.

While I still consider most of what I was doing as method acting, I found that it wasn't also so forced. My smiles more true, my laughing more sincere. Surrounded by my friends, forced to focus on school, it was easier to be me, at least partially. Rehearsal had gone well, my voice not having endured any longterm damage from my crying and screaming fit from yesterday afternoon.

MaKayla was animated and chatty when she visited me at work. It was like she'd stored up the semester's worth of talk, and it was all spilling out now. I found that I was able to smile and laugh with her, though it wasn't as effortless as it was with Jacob. MaKayla offered to stay behind and help me clean up, even after I protested. After her insistence however, I focused on her, trying to read her.

I had missed it before, but she was nervous about something. I turned and looked at her, and through her smile I read her trepidation. It radiated off her like electricity. I felt my body tense as I realized she was about to ask me something, something I knew that I would not like.

I put the closed sign in the window while I folded my apron and shoved it under the counter. "This was fun tonight. Just us getting the chance to catch up," she said happily.

"Yeah, it was. Though I think you were motivated mostly by free baked goods," I mentioned referring back to the drink and snack she'd had earlier.

She laughed. It was mostly forced. I began to count down the register, waiting for her spit whatever it was she wanted to ask out.

"He's going to be angry," I heard her say. My fingers froze over loose bills. I looked up, and saw her standing across from me, her hands fidgeting with one another. She hadn't said that aloud.

"What is, MaKayla?" I asked as calmly as I possibly could, while registering what had just happened. though I'd much rather have spent the afternoon in the garage.

"Beau, I'm so sorry about this, but I promised I'd ask," she began. "My aunt and uncle are coming into town for the weekend to go camping with my folks, and they're bringing my cousin, Nigel. He's our age, and he's really very sweet and funny," she was rambling.

"I don't date, MaKayla," I said sternly while finishing counting the money. It had been obvious what she was getting up the nerve to ask me for a date on her cousin's behalf. I began printing off the register reports when I looked up at her. The trepidation she had felt earlier was gone, replaced with embarrassment.

I didn't want to screw things up with MaKayla, not when she had been such a good friend. I groaned internally. Not believing I was about to agree to this amendment.

"I already have plans this weekend. I'm helping Seth and Jacob finish up everything they need to get ready for tech week. However, why don't you and I schedule a dinner and movie night out with everyone for next weekend."

I could feel her mood rise instantly, like whiplash. "Really?"

I smiled. "Of course. It's been awhile. I know we've all been really busy, but I'd say it's about time for another Friday or Saturday in Port Angles."

MaKala smiled brighter, jumping and clapping at the same time before pulling out her phone.

"Awesome! I'm sending it in the group chat now."

I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket as soon as she finished her sentence. Satisfied, she hugged me goodnight, and left outside the bakery's backdoor, leaving me to finish wrapping up the closing duties, and spiral into panic as I processed yet another round of the impossible.

The next night, my mother didn't seem the smallest bit surprised to find Jacob, Seth and I sprawled across the living room floor with our books scattered around us, so I guessed that she, Sean and Billy were talking behind our backs.

"Hey, kids," she said, her eyes straying to the kitchen. The smell of the lasagna I'd spent the afternoon making—while Jacob and Seth watched and occasionally sampled—wafted down the hall. Sean came home not long after. Jacob stayed for dinner, and took a plate home for Billy when Seth's mom came to pick them both up.

Friday, after school and rehearsal got out, I was down at the garage, and Saturday, after my shift at the bakery concluded, and grabbing a light lunch at the local dinner with Jessica and Angela, it was homework again. Seth and Jacob had long finished what they needed done for the musical. Each were eager to show off all their hard work to the palefaces of Forks High. My mother and Sean were out on a date.

It was already past ten-o-clock in the evening when my mother and Sean walked through the door. They found us sitting in the living room, all the lights turn out, watching a horror movie on the television.

"Jacob, sweetie," my mother called out as we greeted her and Sean, "do you need to stay here tonight? I can call your dad and let him know."

Jacob shook his head. "No thanks, Charley. I probably ought to head out, though." Jacob sighed. "I promised my dad I'd help him with some housework tomorrow morning."

"It's later than I though," I grumbled, sliding off my side of the couch. "I'll go ahead and take you home."

Jacob nodded. He said goodbye to the others, before following me out the front door.

"Tomorrow, back to work," I said as soon as we were safe in the truck. "What time do you want me and Seth to head over?"

"I really do have to help my dad out with some stuff," he grumbled. "But when I'm done, I'll text you and let you know."

"Sounds like a plan." I frowned to myself, having hoped that Seth and I would be down at La Push bright and early. It was easier to ignore the constant inner dialogue that prattled on and on in my head when I was actually doing something. Jacob and I continued to chat about nothing and everything until I had parked outside of his house. He thanked me for the lift, before exiting, running inside to avoid getting soaked by the pouring rain.

I drove back home more carelessly than what my mother would have approved of. I knew that Seth would be up in our room playing video games, and I had decided to join him rather than try and fall to sleep immediately. Since my spontaneous field trip to the Cullen manor, the premonition, though the same, was far worse.

Normally, I would wake up right as I ran through the throngs of men, women and children, towards the dreaded clocktower, but the past several nights, I had made it through the thick crowd. As my body burst through the sea of strangers, I caught my balance on the edge of a stone fountain, directly across the clocktower. The bottom doors to the tower opened, and I watched helplessly as Edward emerged from them. His face was soul-crushingly miserable, his lips trembling, his eyes closed. His hands were shaking as he fought to undo the buttons on his dress shirt. I could feel the overwhelming, inconsolable grief that encompassed each inch of him. And then there was my suffering. There was no anger, hostility or resentment, only regret that I were too late, and the knowledge of what this regret would lead me to, how it would be impossible to come back from it. I tore my gaze from him to glance upward. Though storm clouds fought to cover the entire sky, there seemed to be an invisible barrier that they could not cross in the exact pathway of the sun. My eyes fell back once more to Edward, his shirt sliding off his shoulders and down his arms, exposing each inch of his upper body.

I saw flickers of movement just behind his bare shoulders; figures appearing from the shadows like black flames. The sauntered forward, and instantly I knew that this was the danger that Edward was in. There were no clues for me to find or decipher from this premonition. The ancient city square, the vision of the past, all were connected. Behind him were the Volturi guard, their sole purpose to eradicate the threat of exposure before it even occurred.

"No," I shouted, my voice lost over the tolling bells, the celebrating crowd, and the storm that circled the city save for the spot where he would step, where he would meet Death.

"Edward, don't," I pleaded once more, louder, more desperate than I had ever been. And before I could reach him, save him, the premonition ended, and I was back in my bed.

I felt powerless as the full realization hit me with the force of a tsunami. I knew very little about the Volturi, only that they were ancient, the closest thing that vampires had to royalty and police. I recalled, with perfect clarity, the conversation Edward and I'd had before my disastrous party.

"Anyway, you don't irritate the Volturi," Edward had said. "Not unless you want to die—or whatever it is we do."

I continued, despite my best efforts to not to, I was plagued by this in every hour waking and asleep. Even with the distraction of school, my friends, music, work, video games, the show, I obsessed over this. And how, if this was truly real, if this was going to happen, how I could I hope to stop it?

The act was beginning to slip.

I started to notice that those around me began asking me if I were okay. I lied each time, though less and less believable each time. It seemed that these realizations, these new fears that haunted me, casted a dark aura around myself that I was unable to conceal.

I had exhausted my search on trying to find Carlisle's information online. There was no record of him on LinkedIn, no articles, no newsletter welcoming him to a new hospital, nothing. I knew that this would be the case, even as I turned on my laptop. The Cullens were experts at erasing their tracks, at concealing and altering their stories and identities. There would be nothing to find.

I had focused, so intently on writing out everything that had transpired since their departure, that I'd hoped Alice would somehow see a vision of me writing out the note, and would be able to see my premonition as her own. I clung to hope that rather than the premonition, I would be sent back to wherever Edward was in my sleep, so that I could warn him, beg him to let me help him, to stop whatever would happen before it could begin.

I left the note, just barely peaking out, under my pillow, praying that if he had come back to check up on me, as he'd done during one of the less troubling visions, he would see it. But thus far, the note had appeared to be unread. And all the while, despite the evidence, there was still doubt that any of this was real. In the darker recesses of my mind, a cruel voice whispered that I was mad, that my own Hyde had created this illusion, a fantasy in which I got to keep Edward in my life. I began doubting myself more and more. And each time something strange would happen, a peg of intuition that was too accurate to be a lucky guess, a thought I'd hear as though it were spoken, added on top of the all too vivid nightmare I had labeled a premonition, my Hyde berated me, my own mind turning against me.

The act was fading, and I couldn't talk to anyone about the reason behind any of it. I knew that I was beginning to unravel. I could see the worried glances in my friends eyes, sense my mother and Sean's anxious fears during the few instances I had slipped, my temper getting the best of me. I looked up at the sky once I had parked my truck in front of the house. Watched the lightening dance wickedly in the clouds through my drenched windshield, all the while begging for an answer, a sign that would tell me what was really going on.

I played video games with Seth once I'd returned inside the house, forcing myself to focus on the tasks and story within the game, until my eyelids grew too heavy to remain open. And once more, as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was transported back to the sinister, ancient city where true evil waited to pounce.

I busied myself by cleaned the house the next morning, after making a large breakfast for everyone—waiting for Jacob to text me, letting me know to head over with Seth. My mother was upstairs doing her and Sean's laundry, Sean was outside, working on a project in the dry sanctuary of his shed, and Seth was busy putting on last minute touches to the graphics that would be projected on and around the stage.

While I was scrubbing the toilet, I felt my phone buzz inside my pants pocket, an alert, interrupting the song that was play, informed me it was a message from Jake. I dropped the toilet brush, and swiftly removed the gloves from my hands.

Hey! Just finished up the housework with my dad. You and Seth are free to come down whenever.

My fingers dashed across the screen feverishly.

We'll be on our way in a jiffy.

I finished cleaning the bathroom, hastily, then rushing to fetch Seth.

"Hey, Jake just said we could come down," I said excitedly. Seth threw down his headphone that had been hanging around his neck, and flung himself off the chair he had been sitting in.

He grabbed his shoes from under his bed and slid his feet into them. We each raced down the stairs. I stumbled and caught myself, using the archway to the family room.

"Whoa," my mom said as she appraised Seth and I. "Where's the fire?"

"Sorry, Mom," I said, putting a smile on my face. I could't afford anymore slip ups in front of her. I could tell that she had reverted back to worrying about me, just as she had during the first few weeks after Edward's departure. I couldn't give her anymore reason to worry. "The cleaning is all done. Jake asked us to head over to help him put some final touches on something he built for the show. We need it ready by Monday," I explained with ease.

My mother eyed me momentarily, and I wondered if she was able to see through the lie.

"Okay," her voice suspicious, "will you two be over there late?"

"I don't think so," I said, looking over to Seth—he had his most innocent, childish smile plastered on his face. "I'm roasted a chicken for tonight, so I'll need to be back here in a few hours."

My mother nodded, her suspicion ebbed, told us to have fun. We each ran into my truck.

I parked my truck off to the side of the Blacks' house, close to the trees, to make it easier for us to sneak the bikes out. When Seth and I got out, a splash of color caught my eye—two shiny motorcycles, one red, one black, were hidden under a spruce, invisible from the house. Jacob was prepared.

There was a piece of blue ribbon tied in a small bow around each of the handlebars. I was laughing at that when Jacob ran out of the house.

"Ready?" he asked in a low voice, his eyes sparkling. He glanced over his shoulder, and there was no sign of Billy.

"Hell yeah," I said, but I couldn't feel quite as excited as before; so many different thoughts and conflicting emotions were twisting around inside my head like a tornado. A pang of guilt flushed over me. I should be over the moon, this is what I'd wanted, why we had done this. Seth and Jacob had worked so hard, and yet here I stood, haunted by Edward, but what I thought was happening, what my Hyde told me was happening—all of it together soured this moment. And I was angry that I could not set it all aside for a few hours to truly appreciate all the hard, incredible work, that Seth and Jacob had done.

Together, the three of us loaded the bikes into the bed of the truck with ease, laying them carefully on their sides so they didn't show. I was impressed by how easy it had been for both Seth and Jake. I had struggled to hold up my end of each motorcycle, while they appeared to not have broken a sweat.

"Let's go," Jake said, his voice higher than usual with excitement. "I know the perfect spot—no one will catch us there."

We drove south out of town. The muddy, gravel road wove in and out of the forest—sometimes there was nothing but trees, and then there would suddenly be a breathtaking glimpse of the Pacific Ocean, reaching to the horizon, dark gray, nearly black, under the storm clouds. We were just above the shore, on top of the cliffs that bordered the beach like a giant, sharp crescent moon, and the view seemed to stretch on forever.

I was driving slowly, so that I could safely stare out across the ocean now and then, and as the wet road wound closer to the sea cliffs. Jacob was talking to Seth about how he finishing the bikes, his descriptions far too technical for my understanding, and so I didn't feel too guilty about not paying close attention.

That was when I noticed four figures standing on a rocky ledge, much too close to the precipice. I couldn't tell from the distance how old they were, but I assumed they were men. Despite the chill in the air today, and the rain in one of its rare moods, having lightened up considerably, they seemed to be wearing only shorts.

As I watched, the tallest person stepped closer to the brink. I slowed automatically, my foot hesitating over the brake pedal.

And then he launched himself off the edge.

"No!" I shouted, stomping down on the brake.

"What's wrong?" Jacob shouted back, alarmed.

"Did we hit something?" Seth called out, his voice panicked as he looked passed

"That guy—he just jumped off the cliff! Why didn't they stop him? We've got to call an ambulance!" I threw open my door and started to get out, yanking my phone from my pocket to call my mom.

I hesitated, something telling me to look back into the water. The man's head bobbed out from the dark waves. I heard her shout victoriously, raising his arms above him.

Jacob and Seth's laughter filtered in from the bed of the truck.

"Beau, relax. They're just cliff diving. Recreational fun. La Push doesn't have a mall, you know." Jacob said, teasing, but there was a strange note of irritation in his voice.

"Cliff diving?" I repeated, dazed, my heart still rattling in my chest. I stared in disbelief as a second figure stepped to the edge, paused, and then very gracefully leaped into space. He fell for what seemed like an eternity to me, finally cutting smoothly into the dark gray waves below.

"Damn. It's so high." I slid back into my seat, still staring wide-eyed at the two remaining divers. "It must be a hundred feet."

"Well, yeah, most of us jump from lower down, that rock that juts out from the cliff about halfway." Seth pointed out his window. The place he indicated did seem much more reasonable. "Those guys are insane. Probably showing off how tough they are," he finished, I could hear the envy in Seth's voice, and felt his admiration.

"Fucking idiots," Jacob murmured. "I mean, really, it's freezing today. That water can't feel good." He made a disgruntled face, as if the stunt personally offended him. It surprised me a little. I would have thought Jacob was nearly impossible to upset.

"Wait! Have the two of you jump off the cliff?" I hadn't missed the "us."

Seth shook his head. "No. My parents would kill me if they knew I was doing that. Charley included," he said eyeing me knowingly.

"I've done it once or twice" Jacob confessed as he shrugged and grinned. "It's fun. A little scary, kind of a rush."

I looked back at the cliffs, where the third figure was pacing the edge. I'd never witnessed anything so reckless in all my life. My eyes widened, and I smiled. There was no way I could think of anything, other than the falling if I were to do that. I knew I could put my mind on pause, entirely on pause, if I made that jump. "We've, gotta try it! I can't believe we haven't already?"

Seth groaned, rubbing his forehead as he closed his eyes.

Jacob frowned back at me, his face disapproving. "Beau, you just wanted to call an ambulance for Sam," he reminded me. I was surprised that he could tell who it was from this distance.

"That was before I knew it was safe. I want to try," I insisted.

"Nothing about that is safe," Seth argued, pointing as the third figure was still pacing around in circles. "They're going to get themselves killed, especially with how the storm has been effecting the currents."

I looked back, finding the two men who had jumped struggling against the waves. I would need to be well rested. I was a great swimmer, but I knew better than to mess with currents and tides.

Jacob grabbed my wrist. I turned my attention back to meet his gaze. "Not today, all right? We'll do it on a warmer day."

"Okay, fine," I agreed. With the door open, the glacial breeze was raising goose bumps on my arm. "But I want to go soon."

"Soon." He rolled his eyes. "Sometimes you're a little strange, Beau. You know that?"

I sighed. I understood that better than anyone. "Yes."

"And we're not jumping off the top."

I watched, fascinated, as the third boy made a running start and flung himself farther into the empty air than the other two. He twisted and cartwheeled through space as he fell, like he was skydiving. He looked absolutely free—unthinking and utterly irresponsible.

"Fine," I agreed. "Not the first time, anyway."

Now Jacob sighed. "Are we going to try out the bikes or not?" he demanded.

"Okay, okay," I said, tearing my eyes away from the last person waiting on the cliff. I put my seat belt back on and closed the door. The engine was still running, roaring as it idled. We started down the road again. Seth and Jacob both seemed to relax the further we drove away.

"So who were those guys—the crazy ones?" I wondered.

Jacob made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "The La Push gang."

"You have a gang?" I asked. I realized that I sounded impressed.

He laughed once at my reaction. "Not like that. I swear, they're like hall monitors gone bad. They don't start fights, they 'keep the peace'." He snorted. "There was this guy from up somewhere by the Makah Rez, big guy too, scary-looking. Well, word got around that he was selling meth to kids, and Sam Uley and his disciples ran him off our land. They're all about our land, and tribe pride... it's getting ridiculous. The worst part is that the council takes them seriously. Embry said that the council actually meets with Sam." He shook his head, face full of resentment, Seth's a mixture of annoyance and respect. "Embry also heard from Leah that they call themselves 'protectors' or something like that."

Seth snorted at this. "Yeah, well Leah has made hating Sam her entire personality." Seth's voice reflected the same bitterness and grief I would often hear in my own voice. I had never asked him, directly, what Leah's issue was. I was able to gather quickly that it was a topic best left undiscussed, similarly with me when it came to Edward and his family.

Jacob's hands were clenched into fists, as if he'd like to hit something.

I'd never seen this side of him. I was surprised to hear Sam Uley's name. I didn't want it to bring back the images from the night after my birthday, or the strange way his shadow had shifted at Hailey Clearwater's party. But I was also surprised that a riff had grown so strongly between him and Jacob. Sam had been with Jake at the beach the day he told me the ledge of the cold ones; thanks to the way Sam had mentioned the Cullen's name, like it had been a cursed word. I made a quick observation to distract myself, sensing the forbidden thoughts beginning to creep through. "You don't like them very much."

"Does it show?" he asked sarcastically.

"Well... It doesn't really sound like they're doing anything bad." I tried to soothe him, to make him cheerful again. "Just sort of annoyingly goody-two-shoes, especially for a supposed gang."

"Annoying isn't a strong enough word. They're always showing off—like the cliff thing. They act like... like, I don't know. Like a bunch of assholes. I was hanging out at the store with Embry and Quil once, last semester, and Sam came by with his followers, Jared and Paul. Quil said something, you know how he's got a big mouth, and it pissed Paul off. His eyes got all dark, and he sort of smiled—no, he showed his teeth but he didn't smile—and it was like he was so mad he was shaking or something.

But Sam put his hand against Paul's chest and shook his head. Paul looked at him for a minute and calmed down. Honestly, it was like Sam was holding him back—like Paul was going to tear us up if Sam didn't stop him." He groaned. "Like a bad western. You know, Sam's a pretty big guy, he's like twenty-two now. But Paul's just sixteen, too, shorter than me and not as beefy as Quil. I think any one of us could take him."

"Yup. Sounds like a bunch of assholes to me," I agreed. They sounded almost as bad as Alex and Jericho had been. I could see it in my head as he described it, and it reminded me of something... a trio of tall, dark men standing very still and close together in my living room, each giving off an ancient respect that was far beyond what should be normal for people their age. The picture was sideways, because my head was lying against the couch while Dr. Gerandy and my mother leaned over me... Had that been Sam's gang?

I spoke quickly again to divert myself from the bleak memories. "Isn't Sam a little too old for this kind of thing?"

"Yeah. He was supposed to go to college, but he stayed. And no one gave him any crap about it, either. The whole council pitched a fit when my sister turned down a partial scholarship and got married. But, oh no, Sam Uley can do no wrong."

"Oh my god. Can we stop talking about, Sam? Please?" Seth nearly shouted. Jacob looked at him knowingly. I felt Seth's anger, and unusual emotion for him, roll off him as he started out into the road. His face was set in unfamiliar lines of outrage—outrage and something else I didn't recognize at first.

"You just missed the turn," Jacob said in an even voice, breaking the silence.

I executed a very wide U-turn, nearly hitting a tree as my circle ran the truck halfway off the road. "Thanks for the heads-up," I muttered as I started up the side road.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

It was quiet for a brief minute.

"You can stop anywhere along here," he said softly.

I pulled over and cut the engine. My ears rang in the silence that followed. The three of us all got out. It didn't take a mind-reader or whatever the hell I was to know that Seth was still pissed. He stormed off towards the thin railing along the road and stared out into the choppy sea. Jacob and I headed around to the back to get the bikes. I tried to read his expression. Something more was bothering him. I'd hit a nerve in both of them.

He smiled halfheartedly as he pushed the red bike to my side. "Happy late birthday. Are you ready for this?"

"I think so." The bike suddenly looked intimidating, frightening, as I realized I would soon be astride it.

"We'll take it slow," he promised. I gingerly leaned the motorcycle against the truck's fender while he went to get his.

"Jake..."I hesitated as he came back around the truck, making sure Seth couldn't hear me.

"Yeah?"

"What's really bothering you, and Seth? About the Sam thing, I mean? Is there something else?" I watched his face. He grimaced, but he didn't seem angry. He looked at the dirt and kicked his shoe against the front tire of his bike again and again, like he was keeping time.

He sighed. "It's a bit of a longer story with Seth. But Sam is kind of why Leah turned into such a bitch." I thought back to the few interaction I'd ever had with Leah Clearwater since I'd moved back here. She was seldom around for anything. But I remembered thinking that the reason she had become so cold, so angry at the world, was for the very same reason I was. Sam had broken her heart. It seemed that our difference was I only lashed out at myself, while she lashed out at the world.

Jacob's voice brought me back from my thoughts. "As for me. It's just... the way they treat me. It creeps me out." The words started to rush out now. "You know, the council is supposed to be made up of equals, but if there was a leader, it would be my dad. I've never been able to figure out why people treat him the way they do. Why his opinion counts the most. It's got something to do with his father and his father's father. My great-grandpa, Ephraim Black, was sort of the last chief we had, and they still listen to Billy, maybe because of that.

"But I'm just like everyone else. Nobody treats me special... until now."

That caught me off guard. "Sam treats you special?"

"Yeah," he agreed, looking up at me with troubled eyes. "He looks at me like he's waiting for something... like I'm going to join his stupid gang someday. He pays more attention to me than any of the other guys. Well, except for Seth. There've been a few times I've caught him looking at Seth the same way, just not as much."

"Has Seth noticed?" I demanded to know.

Jacob shook his head. "No, I don't think so. He's not mentioned it, if he has. I just hate it."

"You don't have to join anything. Neither of you." My voice was angry. I had never known Jacob to be this anxious over anything. And it was beyond just being extremely concerned, he was afraid as well. For him and Seth. It's strange how rage can so swiftly encompass one's entire mind, especially when the anger is directed at a person or persons targeting those we love. For several moments, the only thing I thought about was protecting Jacob and Seth from Sam and his gang of mongrels. I knew that I could direct a plethora of rage on them.

"Yeah." His foot kept up its rhythm against the tire. "If only it stopped there."

"What?" I demanded again, ignoring that the last part had been added in Jacob's head.

He frowned, his eyebrows pulling up in a way that looked sad and worried rather than angry. "It's Embry. He's been avoiding me lately."

At first, the thoughts didn't seem connected, but I was able to deduce quickly based on the surge of anger the was welling up in Jacob, that Sam was to blame for the problems between Jacob and Embry.

"Is it because you've been hanging out with me a lot," I reminded him, feeling selfish and hopefully all at once. I'd been monopolizing both him and Seth, and Embry, along with Quil, clearly did not care for me. Maybe Sam had accidentally been a de-facto go-to for him?

"No, that's not it. It's not just me—it's Quil, too, and everyone. Embry missed a week of school, but he was never home when we tried to see him. And when he came back, he looked…Beau he looked freaked out. Terrified. Quil and I both tried to get him to tell us what was wrong, but he wouldn't talk to either one of us."

I stared at Jacob, biting my lip anxiously—he was really frightened, terrified. He didn't look at me. He watched his own foot kicking the rubber as if it belonged to someone else. The tempo increased, and I felt anger rise above the fear.

"Then this week, out of nowhere, Embry's hanging out with Sam and the rest of them. He was out on the cliffs today." His voice was low and tense. He had been the fourth figure. He finally looked at me. "Beau, they bugged him even more than they have ever bothered me, or Seth. He didn't want anything to do with them. And now Embry's following Sam around like he's joined a cult.

"And that's the way it was with Paul. Just exactly the same. He wasn't friends with Sam at all. Then he stopped coming to school for a few weeks, and, when he came back, suddenly Sam owned him. I don't know what it means. I can't figure it out, and I feel like I have to, because Embry's my friend and... Sam's looking at me funny . . and..." He trailed off.

"Have you talked to Billy about this?" I asked, my voice stern. His horror was spreading to me. I had chills running on the back of my neck.

Now there was anger on his face. "Yes," he snorted. "That was helpful."

"What did he say?"

Jacob's expression was sarcastic, and when he spoke, his voice mocked the deep tones of his father's voice. "It's nothing you need to worry about now, Jacob. In a few years, if you don't... well, I'll explain later." And then his voice was his own. "What am I supposed to get from that? Is he trying to say it's some stupid puberty, coming-of-age thing? This is something else. Something wrong."

He was biting his lower lip and clenching his hands. He looked like he was about to cry.

I threw my arms on top of his shoulders, and made sure he was looking me in the eye. "Jacob, listen to me. Nothing is going to happen. Not to you, and not to Seth. Believe me, you have no idea what I am capable of. I've been holding a lot of things back, and I'd really enjoy taking it out on someone. If Sam keeps bother you, or if you see him bothering Seth, you let me know, immediately." The words came out of my voice slowly, several octaves below how I normally talked. The threat behind them impossible to miss. Jacob looked at me, momentarily startled.

He nodded his head slowly. "Okay," he agreed.

I hadn't know how deeply the brotherly love I held for Jacob and Seth truly ran. I wasn't even sure I loved Hector this fiercely. But for Jacob and Seth, just as I would for Edward, I'd go to any lengths to protect them. I

"Thanks, Beau. That means a lot."

We smiled, and I was relieved to feel Jacob's fear and worry recede, his normal attitude, golden happiness, taking its rightful place.

"It would be funny," he said, ruffling my hair. "Trying to watch your paleface take on Sam."

I shoved his hand off of my head, then taking a step back. "Hey, let's not start with the 'paleface,' shit. I'm not all that pale," I retorted.

"Ahh, no. Beau you are the palest paleface I've ever known." He stretched his russet arm out next to my face The difference wasn't flattering. "I've never seen anyone paler than you... well, except for—" He broke off, and I looked away, pretending to not understand what he had been about to say.

"Hey," we heard Seth's voice call out. We turned, and found him leaning over the handle bars of the black motorcycle. "We gonna ride or what?"

"Let's do it," I agreed, more enthusiastic than I would have been half a minute ago. Jacob's unfinished sentence reminded me of my original motivation for restoring the bikes.