.

10. THE MEADOW

I waited, but no one called.

I told myself not to worry. Whatever it was that Jacob had was clearly not the same stomach flu that had been going around, so it must be taking him longer to get over it, but as the days passed by without any word, I couldn't help but wonder. Even if Jacob was still sick, wouldn't Josie have called to let me know? Did her silence mean Jacob had gotten worse, or was he still the same? Had someone taken him to see a doctor? Could someone else in the house have caught whatever Jacob had? Were they all sick now?

I tried to keep myself from imagining the worst possible scenarios, but as I sat at the kitchen table Wednesday afternoon, I couldn't force my wandering mind to focus on my homework. I'd been staring at my Spanish textbook for over an hour when I finally decided things couldn't possibly be as bad as I was imagining. The logical thing to do was to call La Push myself, so I set aside my homework and reached for the phone, but by the end of the call, I hadn't learned anything new. Billy had been vague, at best. Yes, Jacob was still sick, and yes, they had taken him to see a doctor, but the tests weren't back yet, so they didn't know anything. No, he and Josie hadn't caught whatever Jacob had, although that piece of information came after a strange pause that made me wonder what Billy wasn't saying. Was Josie starting to feel sick? Did Billy have some suspicion that something else might be wrong? I told myself to be patient—Billy had promised someone would call as soon as the test results came back. It couldn't be too much longer, could it?

More days passed, and still the phone didn't ring. When I hadn't heard anything by Friday afternoon, I tried to call again, but no one answered. I was starting to suspect there was something else going on. Maybe Jacob was still sick, and maybe Billy hadn't thought to let me know what was happening, but why wouldn't Josie call? Was she silent for some other reason? I'd thought she was okay after our talk at the theater—she'd done more talking than I had, after all—but what if she wasn't? What if she'd been more hurt than she'd let on? Was that why she didn't call?

By Saturday evening, I was well on my way to pacing a hole in the floor. I checked with my mother when she came home from work, but she said Jacob hadn't been to the hospital. When she realized she hadn't heard from Billy in over a week, she decided to call and check on Jacob herself, but there was no answer for her, either, so she tried calling the Clearwaters, instead. I didn't want to hover, so I went into the living room and pretended to watch TV while she chatted with Harry about his recent stay in the hospital. Apparently he'd been having some problems with his heart. Had she mentioned that? I couldn't remember. I'd been so preoccupied by whatever had been happening at Jacob and Josie's house that I wasn't sure. Eventually they moved on to other topics before Harry handed the phone off to Sue. I listened impatiently while she and my mother talked about Harry's hospital stay again. Eventually they worked their way around to Jacob, but I couldn't piece together the conversation when I could only hear my mother's half of it. It seemed like hours had passed by the time she hung up the phone.

"What did they say?" I asked.

"There's been some trouble with the phone lines in La Push. That may be why no one's answering at Billy's."

It was possible, but still . . .

"Sue said Billy took Jake to the clinic where she works. They weren't sure what was wrong, but they ran some tests. They don't have the results yet, but she said Jake shouldn't have any visitors, just in case."

"Is it something serious?" Maybe there wasn't anything strange going on with Josie or her father, after all. Maybe Jacob really was just sick and I was letting my imagination get the better of me.

"They don't think so, but it's taking him a while to get over it. Sue said they gave him some antibiotics, just in case. With any luck, he'll be feeling better by the time the test results come back, but they want him to get plenty of rest."

I asked about Harry, trying not to sound like I was as clueless about the situation as I felt. It was just a routine procedure, she assured me, but I didn't know whether or not I should believe her. Something about her tone made me think she was more worried than she let on.

It was hard not to call La Push over the next few days, but I forced myself to resist. Sue had said Jacob needed rest, and I wanted him to get better, but I needed things to be back to normal soon. I missed hanging out with the twins, and without them, my days were starting to get darker again. I felt like I was slipping back into that shadowy abyss I'd only just started to escape, and sometimes I was certain some of my friends from school could see it, too. Here and there I would catch a suspicious look from Mike or a sympathetic glance from Angela. At least I didn't have to worry about Jessica. Ever since the night of the movie, she and Lauren had been huddled together at the other end of the lunch table, caught in their own conversations. Every now and then I'd catch one of them looking in my direction, but the only thing I could feel was relief that the short-lived reemergence of Jessica's interest in me seemed to have disappeared.

But if my days were growing darker, my nights were even worse.

There had been no visions of my angel since that last feverish dream on the bathroom floor, and I missed her terribly. Instead, my nights were filled with nightmares, the same chilling dream of being left alone in the rain-soaked forest, but as I fumbled about in the darkness, I no longer knew what I was searching for. Was I trying to find the warm hand that would guide me into the light, or was I trying to make my way deeper into the forest, searching for a beautiful meadow and the angel who might be waiting there for me?

Time ticked by slowly as I waited for someone to call, for Jacob or Josie to let me know everything was alright and my life could go back to normal, but the phone didn't ring, and in the back of my mind, another dark suspicion was starting to take root.

Whatever was going on with Jacob was beginning to sound familiar. A strange illness. A separation from his friends. Billy being secretive. Wasn't this what had happened to Embry before he'd started hanging out with Sam Uley? Jacob and Josie had said their father wasn't concerned—he'd just told Jacob that he would understand someday. They'd also said the tribal council thought Sam was great, but wasn't Harry on the tribal council with Billy? Did that mean Sue was in on it, too?

No, I decided. Jacob had seen what had happened to Embry. Whatever was going on with Sam, he wasn't going to fall into the same trap. Even if something had happened, Josie would have called. She would have let me know something was wrong with her brother. Jacob was just sick, and he needed a little more time before he was feeling better, that was all.

I tried calling Jacob and Josie's house again the next Saturday before work. I wasn't really expecting anyone to answer, so I was surprised to hear Billy's voice.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Billy. It's Edward. I was calling to see how Jake is."

"He's better now," was Billy's only answer. He didn't elaborate.

"That's great. Can I talk to him?"

There was a slight hesitation before he spoke again. "No, he's not home right now. He's out with some friends today."

"Oh." I hadn't been expecting that. "What about Josie?"

"She's gone, too." He didn't offer any more information. I tried again.

"Will they be back this afternoon?"

"No, they'll be gone all day." Why was Billy being so evasive?

"Can you tell them I called?" I asked.

"Sure, I can do that," he promised. "Bye, Edward."

"Bye," I answered, but the soft click on the other end of the line told me he'd already hung up. For just a moment, I considered calling Quil's house, just to see if Jacob really was hanging out with him, but I decided against it. It was getting late, and I needed to go to work.

Saturday mornings at Newton's weren't usually busy at opening, which was a good thing because it gave us time to do some restocking before the customers started to come in. This morning, though, it only meant I had too much time to think before we started getting busy. If Jacob was feeling better, better enough that he could spend all day out with friends, why hadn't he called? Why hadn't Josie called? Maybe I'd been right before. Maybe Josie was upset about our talk at the theater. Maybe Billy and Jacob were trying to cover for her. Or maybe . . . maybe something more sinister was going on in La Push . . .

Thankfully the mid-morning rush came before my imagination could take me too far down that particular path. I was helping a customer in the fishing gear section when I glanced up to see two forest rangers entering through the sliding doors. By the time my customer had paid for his new tackle box, the rangers had already left, and Mike was taping a piece of paper to the glass window at the front.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"They wanted to know if anybody had seen this guy." Mike gestured to the flier as he fastened the last corner to the glass. The picture was a little blurry, probably an enlarged section from a group photo, but the man in the photograph looked like an average outdoorsman to me. Brown hair, blue eyes, and two-day stubble—there was nothing particularly memorable about him. He could have been any of dozens of people who came into the store every week.

"He go missing?" I asked.

Mike nodded. "He was supposed to meet up with somebody, but he didn't show, so they went looking for him. They think they found his campsite, but there's no sign of him. They asked to post his picture here, just in case somebody recognized him from the trail."

It happened a couple of times a year—someone wandered off on the wrong path and went missing. They usually turned up again within a day, two at most, cold and hungry, but otherwise okay.

"They said he left a lot of his gear behind. There were some prints, too. Big ones." Mike grimaced. "You remember those hikers we had in here a while back?"

"The bear?" I asked, remembering.

"Yeah." We turned back to the picture, but we were studying it with different eyes now.

"Well, if they didn't find any sign of him . . ." I didn't finish the thought out loud. I didn't want to talk about blood or shredded clothing, but if there had been any indication of an animal attack, surely the rangers would have said so. No predator could attack a human at a campsite without leaving some sign of what had happened there. "Maybe it came along after he left, looking for food."

"Yeah," Mike said again, "that's probably it, just looking for food." But somehow, he didn't sound very convinced.

. . . . .

I sat in my car after work, staring out through the windshield at the clouds in the distance. The rest of the day stretched out before me, just as gloomy as the sky above. I had nothing to fill the empty hours. There was no point in going to La Push—Jacob and Josie weren't home, and according to Billy they wouldn't be for the rest of the day. My mother wouldn't be home, either. She was at work, and I didn't really want to sit at home by myself all day thinking. As my eyes absently scanned the interior of my car, a new idea rose to the surface. I reached over to press the latch release on the glove box.

The meadow. It had been weeks since the last time we'd gone hiking, but there was no reason I couldn't resume my search today. I had the map and the compass in my car, and I understood the process well enough by now that I could go on my own. Josie had even let me plan our route the last time we'd gone. We'd made it back just fine.

I headed home to grab my hiking boots and eat a quick lunch—I wasn't really hungry, but I knew I'd need the energy—then I drove to the trailhead and parked in my usual spot. After a few minutes of studying the map, I was fairly certain I remembered where we'd left off the last time. Turning the compass until it properly identified north, I set off into the trees.

It was cloudy but not really rainy—a good day for a hike on the Olympic peninsula. In the canopy above, I could hear the shuffling of wildlife and the call of birds, but even surrounded by the sounds of life, I couldn't help but feel lonely. I missed Josie. I missed her laughter and her stories about school. I missed having someone to talk to. There was some strange new energy in the forest today, too, something I couldn't put my finger on. Was it because spring was coming soon? It was very nearly the same time of year as when I'd first come this way. Or maybe it felt different because I'd finally chosen the right route. Maybe she was waiting at the end of this hike. Suddenly my feet felt lighter. I picked up the pace.

As I checked the map again some time later, I tried to estimate how far I'd gone. Four miles, maybe—I'd been making good time—but that wasn't far enough. Would the foliage begin to look familiar as I got closer? Would I recognize the way? I checked my course again, verifying that I was still headed in the right direction, and refolded the map. A couple more miles, I told myself, and then I would think about cutting across and heading back, but as I pushed through the ferns between two vine maples, I suddenly realized I didn't need to go any farther. I was already there.

The meadow was exactly as I remembered it, although the bright sunlight we'd seen that first day was hidden behind a blanket of clouds. The wildflowers were missing, too, but they had appeared only in my dreams. Nothing marred the perfection of the clearing—no tiny sapling dared break through the sea of gently waving grass—and off to the east I could hear the bubbling of the stream. It was beautiful, peaceful, and perfect, but it was empty. There was no one here.

"Hello?" I called into the stillness, but the forest had gone silent. Not even the rustle of the wind answered back. My heart froze, then leapt. Did that stillness mean she was near?

"Hello?" I called again, but again there was no answer. I walked the circle that formed the perimeter of the meadow, peering into the shadows of the forest and searching for any sign of her, but by the time I'd made it back to my starting point, I'd been forced to accept the truth. She wasn't here. There was no one here but me.

I leaned against a tree trunk, sliding down the rough bark until I was seated on a fallen log. What had I been expecting, I asked myself? Had I really thought she would be here, waiting for me? I felt cold and empty, and for a moment, I was grateful to be alone. No one would see me here, slumped against a tree in defeat. Giving in to despair, I dropped my head into my hands.

For so long now, the dreams had kept me going. They had been the only thing that kept me sane in a world without her, but even that tenuous connection hadn't been enough. I'd needed the promise that if I looked for her, I would find her. I'd needed the hope that I would see her again, and now, without the dreams, with the harsh truth of my own delusions staring me in the face, there didn't seem to be a point anymore. Was there any reason for me to move from this spot? Maybe I should just stay here forever. Maybe, a little voice whispered, if I stayed long enough, she would eventually come back and find me here waiting . . .

Something, some undetectable sound must have broken the silence. I lifted my head from my hands and turned to stare across the meadow, but there was nothing there. I rose slowly to my feet, certain there had to have been something . . . and then a solitary figure stepped out of the forest on the north side of the clearing.

He was dressed for the outdoors—sturdy boots, durable pants, and a waterproof jacket—and for a moment, I thought I'd stumbled across the missing hiker, but his hair was too dark for him to be the man on the flier Mike had posted that morning. Still, something about him was familiar. He stopped, watching me as I watched him. Some part of me registered that he was still, too still, and even as that part of me realized what he was and cringed in terror, another part of me recognized who he was.

"Laurent?"

I didn't really need to ask, of course. I knew him. It had been nearly a year since the last time I'd seen him, but the circumstances of that meeting meant I would never forget. Laurent had been a member of James's coven when we'd first encountered the three of them—James, Victoria, and Laurent—during the ill-fated baseball game, but Laurent had been hesitant to stand against a coven so much larger than his own, and he had decided not to take part in the hunt that followed. He had opted, instead, to go to Alaska and meet the family of vampires who lived there, a family that chose to live on the blood of animals, rather than preying on humans.

But where did that leave Laurent? I stared across the meadow at his unmoving form. Was he still living in Denali with Tanya and her family? Had he adopted their way of life? His decision not to hunt me last spring had been made because he didn't like the odds, odds that James had discovered were not in his favor. Laurent hadn't had any respect for human life back then, but what about now?

"Edward?" he asked, sounding surprised, yet pleased. "I didn't expect to see you here."

As he started toward me, I had to lock my muscles in place. Instinct, that desperate and primal urge, was telling me to run from the predator who was strolling so casually toward me.

His clothes, I noted, weren't new, but they weren't ragged, either. They were standard, really, and could have belonged to any hiker, but while the pants were the right length, the sleeves of his coat seemed just a bit too long. A chill crawled down my spine. There had been no sign of the missing hiker at his campsite, and I had thought at the time that no predator could attack and kill someone without leaving a trace. I had been almost right. There was only one, and it was a predator no human could escape.

I forced myself to take a steadying breath.

"It's a good day for hiking," I said as he drew closer. He came to a stop about ten paces away. I couldn't see his eyes clearly from this distance, but I could tell they were darker, not the golden hue of a vampire who'd recently fed on the blood of animals. Were they dark with thirst, I wondered, or were they the telltale red of a vampire who preyed on humans? How bright would the red of his irises be if he'd been responsible for the disappearance of the missing hiker?

"I thought you'd still be in Alaska," I said, trying to sound like I was making casual conversation.

He tilted his head to the side, studying me for a moment. At this new angle, I could see the color of his eyes more clearly. They were dark, but the color was definitely red. His last meal hadn't been animal.

I took another deep breath as my heart began to race. Surely Laurent could hear it from where he stood. How much danger was I really in, I wondered? How averse would a vampire be to hunting a human if that human was someone they knew? Would we be having this casual conversation if he meant me any harm?

"Oh, I'm still there some of the time," he answered vaguely. "I wasn't expecting to see you. When I found the Cullen place empty, I thought they'd moved on."

It felt so strange to hear their name after so long, but the jolt of surprise it caused was blunted. Most of my attention was still focused on trying to decipher the exact shade of red in Laurent's eyes.

"They did," I said after a moment. "You can only pretend to be human for so long before people start to notice you aren't aging."

"I'd imagine so," he murmured, clearly deep in thought. "I'm surprised they left you behind. Weren't you a sort of a pet of theirs?" It was a strange way of phrasing it, but he didn't seem like he was trying to be offensive.

"I guess you could say that."

"Hmmm," he said thoughtfully. I wondered what he was considering, then decided I didn't want to know. "Do they visit often?" he asked casually. His weight shifted toward me subtly, and some little voice in my head whispered that Laurent probably wouldn't have any qualms about killing a human he knew.

"Sure," I said, adding a shaky shrug that I hoped would make my lie sound more believable. "They come around from time to time."

"Hmmm," he said again. "The house smelled like it had been vacant for a while . . ."

"They don't stay in the house when they visit. Appearances, you know. The town thinks they've moved, so if someone goes to the house and it looks like someone has been there, or if some hiker stumbles across it while they're here . . ." I let the words trail off and added another shrug. I needed to breathe in order to talk, but it was hard to keep my breathing regulated when my heart was pounding harder and harder against the inside of my rib cage.

Laurent took a step to the side. It was a casual move, meant to look like he was simply trying to get a better look at the meadow, but it was a calculated move, too. It brought him closer to where I stood.

As I stared across the narrowing distance between us, a memory fought its way to the surface. It was a painful memory, an agonizing memory, but I knew it was important—quite possibly my very life depended upon it now—so I let it come. It was a voice, a beautiful voice from a horrible day in the forest that I didn't want to remember, and it cut through me like a knife.

I'll ask Alice to keep an eye on you, it said, so that I'll know you'll be okay . . .

Alice. Of course. She'd asked Alice to look in on me, to keep an eye on my future, so if I really was in danger now, wouldn't Alice have foreseen it? Wouldn't she have sent someone to rescue me? Maybe things weren't as bad as they seemed . . .

"How are things in Denali?" I asked. He'd already admitted that he spent some of his time there. I was hoping to remind him that Tanya and her family wouldn't do what he seemed to be considering now. He paused.

"I like Tanya very much," he said thoughtfully, "and her sister Irina even more. I've never stayed in one place for so long before, and I enjoy the advantages, the novelty of it, but the restrictions are difficult. I'm surprised that any of them can keep it up for long." He smiled at me, like he was letting me in on a great secret. "Sometimes I cheat."

I could already see that, and as much as I hoped he couldn't tell how much I wanted to run from him, I was fairly certain he knew my secret, too.

"I see," I said. The words sounded a bit clipped because I was still having trouble breathing. "Some of the . . . Cullens have had problems with that, too. Jasper, especially."

"Really?" Interest sparked in Laurent's eyes. "Is that why they left?" he asked.

If I said it was, would that improve my chances? If there had been other suspicious disappearances in the area, would he decide that one more might draw too much attention? No, he knew it had been months since they'd left. Probably not.

"No," I said. "He's learned to be careful."

"Yes," Laurent agreed. "I have, too."

I watched him take another step forward. He didn't even try to hide it this time. I reminded myself that Alice was coming. She had to be, but it didn't slow my racing heart.

"So you came to visit the Cullens?" I asked.

He considered me for a moment before answering. "Yes, well, I was actually doing a bit of a favor . . . for Victoria."

"Victoria?" I asked. My blood, already running cold in my veins, cooled several more degrees.

"Yes," he said, taking another small step forward. "She won't be very happy about this."

Pausing for a moment, he turned to glare into the trees at the edge of the clearing. Was Victoria here? My heart rose in my throat.

"About what?" I managed to ask.

"About me killing you," he answered softly. I wasn't exactly surprised. He'd been stalking me for several minutes now, but I hadn't been expecting him to admit it. I tried to take a step away from him, but I was still backed against the log I'd been sitting on earlier. I was trapped.

"She wanted to save that part for herself," he continued casually. "She's sort of . . . put out with you, Edward."

"And why is that?" I asked, forcing out the words. My mouth had gone dry.

He shook his head, chuckling faintly. "I know. It seems a little backward to me, too, but James was her mate, and your Bella killed him."

It seemed like forever since I'd heard her name spoken aloud. Months had passed since my mother had stopped asking if I'd heard from her. I'd forgotten how beautiful her name sounded, how much it ached to hear it.

"She thought it more appropriate to kill you than Bella—fair turnabout, mate for mate. She asked me to get the lay of the land for her, so to speak. I didn't imagine you would be so easy to get to, so maybe her plan was flawed. Apparently it wouldn't be the revenge she imagined, since you must not mean very much to them if they left you here unprotected."

I wasn't unprotected, I told myself as I pulled in another ragged breath. Alice was just running late.

Laurent shifted slightly. "I suppose she'll be angry, all the same."

"Is it worth it then?" I asked. "Sh. . . she seems like she'd hold a grudge."

A strange little smile crossed his features. "Well, you've caught me at a bad time, Edward. I didn't come to this place on Victoria's mission. I was hunting. I'm quite thirsty, and well . . . here you are."

I pressed against the log at the back of my legs. It wasn't much, but I needed something to hold me up.

"They'll know it was you," I told him.

"The scent will wash away with the next rain. No one will find your body. You'll simply go missing, like so many, many other humans."

"Alice will . . ." I began, but I didn't know how much Laurent knew about Alice's visions. I felt like I was giving away her secrets.

"Oh yes, Alice. Don't worry, I know about her gift, so you shouldn't feel that you're betraying her. It might have created an interesting dilemma, but she isn't here. If she were looking after you, she would be here by now, wouldn't she?" He smiled softly, sympathetically. "This is nothing personal, let me assure you. Just thirst."

"No . . ." Time. I had to stall for time. Alice would be here soon . . .

"Look at it this way, Edward. You're very lucky I was the one to find you."

"Why is that?" I asked, grateful for any excuse to keep him talking.

"I'll be very quick. You won't feel a thing, I promise. Oh, I'll lie to Victoria about that later, naturally, just to placate her, but if you knew what she had planned for you . . ." He shook his head, seemingly disgusted. "I swear you'd be thanking me for this."

I tried to swallow through the horror, but my throat was too dry. I didn't want to imagine just how far Victoria would go to exact her revenge, but if Laurent was disturbed by the very idea . . .

He leaned forward, inhaling the air around me.

I stared at him, still halfway expecting Alice—anyone—to burst out of the forest, but as my heart hammered on, ticking away the remaining seconds of my life, no one came, and I realized the truth. No one was coming. This was it. Eighteen years of my life, every second of joy and pain, every hope and dream and fear I'd ever had all came down to this one moment. They would all end here, and I would never see her again.

And just as he was poised to spring, Laurent paused, turning his head to the left. Were they here? Had they come? I turned in the same direction, my eyes searching for my rescuer, but there was only forest. Even as Laurent began to back away, I still saw nothing.

"I don't believe it," he said, his voice so low that my human ears could barely hear it. He continued his cautious retreat. And still, I saw nothing.

Suddenly, emerging from the shadows of the treeline, came a large, dark shape. It moved slowly, deliberately, stalking Laurent just as smoothly as he had stalked me only moments before. It was huge—as tall as a horse and covered in fur as black as midnight. A snarl ripped out from between its teeth, a snarl so thunderous that it nearly shook the ground beneath my feet.

This was the bear the hikers had been talking about, I realized as I stared at the monster still advancing toward us . . . only it wasn't a bear. It was too big to be a bear, and it was shaped entirely wrong. The way it moved was . . . canine.

I watched, unable to breathe, as it stepped through the grass only yards from where I stood.

Wolf. The word finally came to me, but my brain tried to reject it. How could a wolf be this large? Another growl rumbled from its throat. I could feel the vibrations in the log behind my legs.

I pulled my eyes away from the beast long enough to realize that Laurent was still retreating, and even from this distance I could see the fear in his eyes, but why? The wolf was certainly enormous, but Laurent was a vampire. No matter how huge this monster was, it could be no match for him.

Suddenly, more shapes materialized out of the shadows. Two more huge wolves, one brown and one a deep gray, took their places on either side of the first wolf, their eyes locked on Laurent. And then, amazingly, two more emerged and settled into the outer edges of the formation. They were lined up like the head of an arrow now, with the leader at its point. If I'd wanted to, I could have reached out and touched the russet brown wolf that took up its position closest to me, but it never glanced in my direction. Its eyes were locked on Laurent as he continued to back away. I stumbled to the side, shuffling against the fallen log, and the brown wolf glanced in my direction for the briefest of moments. This was it. They would realize I was here and attack—I was the easier prey, of course—but as the wolf's eyes turned toward me, somehow it didn't feel like it wanted to hurt me. Our eyes met for no more than a heartbeat, and then a low growl from the leader brought its attention back to Laurent. As the wolves' lips curled back, exposing teeth the length of daggers, Laurent turned and disappeared into the forest.

In less than a second, they were after him, sprinting across the meadow faster than I thought anything alive could move. Their snarls seemed to vibrate the air around me as they ran, and then suddenly they were gone, and there was nothing left in the meadow but silence.

My legs gave out, and I fell forward onto my hands and knees. I struggled to pull oxygen back into my lungs as I tried to understand what I'd just seen. How could wolves be so huge? And why would they stalk a vampire? And why had Laurent run?

Among all of these questions, one thing was desperately clear. I couldn't stay where I was. Something would come back for me. Would it be Laurent after he'd dealt with the wolves, or would it be the wolves once Laurent had outrun them? I didn't know, and I didn't care to find out. I could only hope they would keep each other occupied long enough for me to escape, long enough for Laurent to find someone else to be his next meal.

I shuddered. Had I sunk so low that I could wish that fate on someone else?

I forced myself to stand and fumbled for the map, for the compass, but my hands were shaking so badly that I could barely use them. I held them only long enough to verify my heading, and then I shoved them into my pocket, ripping the map in the process, and took off through the trees in what I hoped was the direction of my car. I moved quickly, not carefully, and I tripped and stumbled more times than I could count. Every time something caught my foot, my mind screamed that it was Laurent's hand snagging my ankle. Every time I fell to the forest floor, I imagined the teeth of the wolves closing around my arms or my legs . . . or the back of my neck. Every sound that fell on my ears, every whisper from the canopy above, was some new danger, and as I finally stumbled out of the treeline and onto the road, I was so disoriented with fear that it took me several moments to realize where I was. I had come out of the forest about a half mile from the parking lot where I'd left my car.

I limped down the road toward the parking area, jumping and shuddering at the sound of my own footsteps until I was finally in my car, the world locked safely outside the doors. Except I wasn't safe, not really. A locked car door might stop wolves, but it wouldn't stop a vampire. I started the engine and sped toward the main highway, then back toward Forks as fast as I could go.

It was later than I'd realized by the time I got home. As terrified as I was, I still managed to force myself to change out of my clothes—the legs of my jeans were covered in dirt from all the falling I'd done on my way out of the forest—and toss them into the laundry before my mother got home from work. I barely touched my dinner that night, a fact she noticed and commented on, but I told her I was simply tired before going upstairs to bed. How could I eat after the day I'd just had?

There were nightmares again that night, but I didn't need to sleep to have them. As I lay awake in bed, visions of all that had happened that day . . . and all of the horrible things that could still happen ran through my head. I wasn't afraid of the wolves, not anymore. If Laurent hadn't killed them by now, they certainly wouldn't get me here, in my bedroom, but how could I warn someone they were out there? No one would possibly believe me. I wasn't afraid of Laurent, either. Now that I'd gotten out of the forest, he could find prey that was closer, less trouble than hunting me, and he'd certainly have had time to rethink the wisdom of foiling Victoria's plans. It was Victoria that kept me awake. Had Laurent reported back to her yet? Had he told her I was here, alone? If he told her the Cullens had left me here, would her plans change? If she knew Bella had gone, would she try to find some other way of hurting her, or would her anger only grow? Would the plans that had disgusted Laurent become even more sadistic? Would she come after my friends? My family? Was my mother, asleep in the next bedroom, safe, or would Victoria make her a target, too?

And why hadn't Alice come? Was she really looking in on me? Or had Bella decided she didn't care after all?