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11. KEEPING SECRETS
(CULT)

I spent the next several nights lying awake in bed and wondering if I would live to see the dawn. I slept very little. Every sound seemed amplified in the darkness. Every shadow became something more sinister. Was that strange rustling no more than the wind moving through the forest behind my house, or was someone crawling across the roof? Were the images cast on the walls by the headlights of a late-night driver really the shadows of the tree in our yard, or were they the outline of Victoria's claws as she climbed toward my bedroom window? Would the next—and last—sound I heard be the crash of shattering glass? There was no comfort in reminding myself that the things I could see and hear were irrelevant. Victoria wouldn't make a sound, wouldn't cast a shadow unless she wanted to. I wouldn't know she was coming for me until she was ready for me to know, and the last sound I would ever hear would be the sound of my own screams.

School felt safer. Victoria might have been able to sneak in and grab me as I walked from one class to the next, but there were far too many potential witnesses, far too great a chance that she would be seen by more people than she could dispose of without drawing unwanted attention to our little town. And work? It didn't seem likely that she would come for me at Newton's either, but my heart still skipped a beat every time the automatic doors slid open Tuesday afternoon.

My greatest fear of all, though, was that Victoria's plans wouldn't stop at me. I watched over my mother anxiously, obsessively. I worried if she took too long in the shower. I looked into the living room every five minutes just to make sure she was safe as she sat in her favorite chair reading the newspaper. I was still worried about Josie and Jacob, of course, but I had even more reason to worry now. They still hadn't called, but I counted that as a blessing. It was safer this way. I couldn't risk luring my own personal nightmare to La Push.

And with all that fear came the feeling that I'd been abandoned all over again. She had promised me that Alice—I could think of Alice if I didn't think of her—would keep watch over me, that she would make sure I was safe and happy, but Alice hadn't been there when I'd needed her. Had Alice stopped watching? Had she ever really been watching at all?

As for the wolves . . . I didn't know what to think about the wolves. I was so busy worrying about everything else that I didn't have room to worry about the wolves, too. I was starting to feel like I was losing my grip on reality. Maybe the wolves had never really existed at all. Maybe I'd dreamed them. Maybe, I thought with a bitter laugh, I really was going crazy.

When I came home from school on Wednesday, my mother wasn't there. Her car was missing from the driveway, and there was no note on the kitchen table. She'd been planning to go grocery shopping, I remembered, but the cabinets were fully stocked, and there was a new jug of milk in the refrigerator. The grocery list was gone, too, and had been replaced with a fresh piece of paper that listed only one item—frozen peas. Apparently she'd come home from grocery shopping and realized she'd left something off her list, but where was she now? Her car was gone. Had Victoria come for my mother, then taken her car to make me think she was somewhere else? A chill crawled down my spine as I remembered my desperate escape to Phoenix the previous spring and the phone call from James. I glanced toward the phone, terrified it would ring at any moment. Would I hear Victoria's voice on the other end of the line, telling me she had my mother, that she would kill her if I didn't come?

I waited beside the phone for another hour, but it didn't ring. By the time I heard my mother's car pulling into the driveway, I'd already imagined her dying a dozen times over. I braced myself as I listened to the sound of keys in the lock and the quiet shuffle of the front door opening and closing, but the footsteps in the entryway were too loud, too familiar, and by the time my mother appeared in the kitchen doorway, I was already chastising myself for letting my imagination get the better of me again.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I brought dinner." She set her purse and a box of frozen pizza down on the counter and reached over to preheat the oven. "I'd have left a note if I'd realized . . . I didn't even know how late it was until Billy reminded me. We had a lot to catch up on."

"Billy?" I asked, surprised. "You went to La Push?"

"Well, the phone lines have been down for a while. I know you haven't been able to get through, and I couldn't either, so I thought I'd just drive over, see how Jacob was feeling and check in on Billy." She finished washing her hands and reached for the towel that hung over the handle of the oven door.

"What did he say?" I asked. "Is everybody okay? Were Jacob and Josie home?"

"He says everything is back to normal. Jacob is back in school, but he has a lot of classwork to catch up on, so he and Josie weren't home yet." She frowned as she reached into the refrigerator for a bag of salad. "At least that's what Billy said, but I saw Jacob on my way out of town. He'd cut his hair, but I'm sure it was him."

Cut his hair? That didn't sound right. Even when we were kids, Jacob had hated getting his hair cut. He'd begged Billy and Sarah to let him grow it out.

"I didn't talk to him, though. He and his friends disappeared into the forest before I got the chance."

Friends? "Do you know who he was with?" I asked. "Was Quil there?"

She stopped for a moment to think. "Quil . . ."

"A little shorter than Jake, stockier? Short hair?"

She shook her head as she opened the oven door to slide the pizza inside.

"No, I don't think so. They all had short hair, but they were all tall, about Jake's height."

An image came to mind. Four figures standing at the top of a cliff, all with short hair, even Embry, whose hair had been long the last time I'd seen him . . .

Suddenly I needed to do something with my hands. "How many were there?" I asked as I reached into the cabinet for two bowls.

"Four? Maybe five?" She paused to consider. I heard her soft intake of breath as she prepared to say something else, but I didn't need to hear the words. I already knew what she was about to say.

"You know, I think I did recognize someone else. Sam. Sam Uley. I think he was with them."

It felt like I was listening to my own voice coming from somewhere far, far away. "Was Josie there?"

"No, I didn't see her. It was just the boys. Well, young men, I should say. Have you noticed how much Jake has grown lately? I don't know where he gets it from. He's taller than Billy. Maybe it comes from Sarah's side of the family?"

I zoned out for the next few minutes as my mother talked about some tourists who'd been causing a bit of trouble down at First Beach. My mind was elsewhere. It was one thing to suspect that whatever was happening with Sam Uley had sucked Jacob in, too. It was another thing altogether to have it confirmed.

I didn't realize she'd stopped talking until she placed her hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll hear from Josie soon."

"Huh?"

She smiled gently and gave my arm an encouraging squeeze.

"I know you've been trying to call her. Billy said you two had a little . . . misunderstanding."

I stared at her, confused. Billy had said we'd argued? But we hadn't . . . had we?

"She's just been busy lately," my mother continued, turning back to the counter to fill the bowls with salad. "She was trying to do so much when Jacob was sick, taking care of him and helping Billy. She was trying to help her brother keep up with his schoolwork, too. It's a good thing they're in a lot of the same classes." She glanced back up from the salad. "You were always so close when you were kids. You never could stay mad at each other for very long."

I stared at her as she leaned over to wipe her hands on the kitchen towel again.

"Close?" I echoed. The conversation had taken a sudden detour, and I was feeling more than a little bit lost.

"You and Josie," she said, turning back to the counter. "You'd think it would be you and Jacob who would stick together, but it was usually you and Josie. I think sometimes Jake felt a little left out. Sarah used to say she thought he got a little jealous when you came over to play, not that he'd ever admit it. Josie was his sister, except when you were around, and then she'd just follow you everywhere. You never seemed to mind, though. Even when you and Jacob were off being boys, you'd always make sure Josie didn't get left out."

She must have read the confusion in my eyes when she looked in my direction because she quickly explained, "that was just when you were little. When you got older, the three of you settled in, but it took a little while at first." She resealed the bag of salad. "Could you put that back for me?"

I nodded and walked across the kitchen, barely paying attention to where I put the bag when I opened the refrigerator door. The carefree summer days I'd spent in La Push were long gone. The memories were faint, but my mother's words felt true. Looking back now, I could remember running along the beach with Jacob and Josie, climbing trees with Jacob and Josie, catching insects with Jacob and Josie. There wasn't a single memory that didn't include her. When I turned back toward my mother, she was pulling the pizza out of the oven. The conversation had already moved on to something Billy had told her about the tribal council.

I ate quietly, only halfway listening as my mother caught me up on everything I'd missed in La Push over the last few weeks—or at least what Billy had told her. I couldn't keep my mind away from what she'd said about Jacob hanging out with Sam's gang . . . or what she'd said about Josie. Had our conversation at the theater really been a misunderstanding? If Jacob was hanging out with Sam now, Josie would have wanted to call me, wouldn't she? But she hadn't. Did that mean she really was upset? I didn't know, but I knew I had to find out.

"I guess the phone lines are still out of order, though," my mother said as we cleared the table. "Right before I left, Billy's phone rang, but it only rang twice, and then it stopped. He didn't even try to answer it. Apparently that's what it does—it rings, but if you answer it, there's no one there." She frowned. "I do hope they get everything fixed soon. That could be dangerous if there's an emergency."

I nodded, but for once my brain wasn't on Billy's malfunctioning phone line. Josie, Jacob, Sam, Billy, Victoria, Alice . . . even the wolves. Nothing in my life made sense anymore.

My mother sent me upstairs after that. She said I looked tired. She insisted she didn't need my help with the dishes, but she thought I should finish my homework and get to bed as early as I could. She was right that I needed sleep, but going to bed wasn't going to help. Still, I didn't argue, and I headed upstairs to do my Calculus homework. When I came downstairs to check on her again before I went to bed, she was curled up on the sofa watching an old movie.

My mother and I both survived the night, and I did manage to get some sleep, but I was distracted for most of the next day. I didn't know how to fix things with Josie, I didn't understand how Jacob had been sucked into Sam's cult, and how was I even still alive? Surely Laurent had reported back to Victoria by now. Was the waiting just another part of her plan? Was letting me live in fear the first stage of her revenge? Would I begin to see her face in my window at night or along the street on my way home from school? Would she want me to know she was stalking me slowly as she drew closer and closer to killing me?

And Alice, what about Alice? She was supposed to be looking out for me, keeping an eye on my future from far away, but Laurent had nearly killed me, and Victoria was planning to do far worse than that, but no one had appeared. Alice and I had been friends—I knew that for certain—but it seemed she, too, had abandoned me, and there was no one left who could possibly save me from Victoria.

I was trying to help a customer decide between two sleeping bags that afternoon when the reason for Alice's absence suddenly became clear. It was all about decisions, or, more specifically, the lack of them. Alice's ability to see the future was based on people's decisions. People's futures shifted as decisions were made and changed, and Alice's visions depended on those decisions, but Laurent had never really decided to hunt me, had he? He'd admitted it, himself. He had been hunting, but he hadn't been hunting me. I had merely stumbled across his path, putting myself in the wrong place at the wrong time. By the time Laurent had decided that I would be a suitable meal, the wolves had already decided to interrupt him—if animals could make those kinds of decisions—so Alice's visions of my future would never have shown me dying.

It was a relief, not just because it meant Alice was still watching out for my future, but also because it meant Victoria had not yet decided when she would come after me. If she had, Alice would have already come to save me . . . or sent someone else to do it. Maybe Laurent hadn't even spoken to Victoria yet. Maybe he had, but she hadn't decided what to do now that the situation had changed. Whatever the case, I must not be in danger yet. If I were, Alice would have done something already.

I felt much saner as I drove home that evening, but not worrying about Victoria meant my mind was free to worry about Josie and Jacob, instead, and that problem was far more difficult to solve. I tried calling again when I got home, but when no one answered, I wasn't really surprised. I didn't try calling again. Maybe my mother had the right idea. A phone call wasn't going to work. I needed to drive down to La Push and talk to Josie myself. I needed to sort out whatever was happening between us, and I had to be there to help her with her brother. As I lay in bed that night, feeling safe for the first time in days, I made my plans . . .

I decided to try calling Billy's house one last time before heading to La Push after school the next day. I had a suspicion about Billy's phone line, and I wanted to know if I was right. Dropping my backpack into a kitchen chair, I reached for the phone and dialed Billy's number. I let it ring twice, and then I hung up. I waited five minutes, and then I called again. Billy answered on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Billy, it's Edward. Is Josie home?" I tried to keep my voice casual. I hoped he couldn't hear the suspicion in my tone, but he'd all but confirmed my theory. No one answering the phone at his house. The claims that the phone lines weren't working in La Push, even though my mother had been able to call the Clearwaters without any problem. Billy's phone ringing twice, then stopping before he'd convinced my mother it was getting late and she needed to leave. It was a signal. Billy was screening his calls. I wondered how it worked. Maybe one ring and then a hang up meant it was Harry. Maybe two rings meant it was Old Quil? And if the phone just kept ringing, then it was Edward, and Billy wouldn't answer at all. Had the few times I'd managed to get Billy on the phone been times when someone else had just called, let it ring a set number of times, and then hung up? Had Billy answered only because he thought I was someone else?

"She's not here." Billy said.

"What about Jake?"

"He's not here, either."

Not exactly a surprise. "Do you know where they are?"

"Out with friends," he answered. Now that I knew what was going on, every word he said seemed to have another meaning.

"Are they hanging out with Quil?" I asked.

"No," Billy said carefully. "I don't think they're with Quil today."

I wondered how much he thought I knew. How much could I say without saying more than I wanted to?

"Embry?" I asked.

"Yeah," he answered, sounding a bit relieved, "they're with Embry."

If I'd been harboring any hope that I was wrong before, here was my proof that I wasn't, but why had Billy said Josie was with Sam, too? My mother hadn't seen her with them, and Josie had said Sam and the others hadn't been interested in her. It didn't make sense, and it terrified me in a whole new way. Still, no matter what kind of hold Sam had on Jacob, I couldn't believe he would let anyone hurt Josie, so what was going on? I wasn't waiting around anymore. I was going to find out.

"Can you have Josie call me when she gets in?" I asked.

"Sure, sure. No problem." And then the line went dead.

I hung up the phone and reached into my pocket for my car keys. I wasn't waiting around for a phone call from Josie that I knew would never come. I left a quick note for my mother, and then I headed out the door.

I tried not to think about worst-case scenarios as I drove to La Push. No matter what Billy was hiding, he wouldn't let anyone hurt Josie—of that I was certain—but what was going on, then? And what would I do about it? Drive around La Push hoping to find one of them? Should I park in front of Billy's house and refuse to leave until someone gave me some answers?

I considered my options as I drove down La Push Road, but as the forest began to thin around me, I still hadn't decided on a course of action. I was almost to the first little houses on the edge of the reservation when I saw someone walking along the left side of the road. He was a little bit taller and a bit more muscular than the last time I'd seen him, but I recognized Quil immediately. What was with these guys? I was a couple of years older than both Quil and Jacob, but I'd never had a growth spurt like that. Was it something genetic? Josie had said they were cousins on her mother's side . . .

I pulled over to the opposite side of the road and rolled down the window as I drew even with him. When he turned to face me, I could see the worry in his eyes.

"Do you need a ride, Quil?"

"Hey, Edward." But he didn't answer my question. I glanced up at the road ahead. We were still outside of town. What was he doing all the way out here?

"Do you need a ride somewhere?" I asked again.

"Sure, I guess." He walked slowly around the front of my car, his eyes firmly fixed on the road at his feet, and opened the passenger door to climb in.

"Where to?"

"My house is on the north side, back behind the store." He didn't say anything more, but his expression never changed. He seemed distracted and upset. Something told me I knew why.

"Have you seen Jake or Josie today?" I asked.

He was silent for a moment, but I could tell he was choosing his words carefully. "I saw Jake from a distance," was all he said.

"A distance?" I asked.

"I tried to follow them. He was with Embry." Quil didn't turn to look at me. He just stared out through the windshield at the road ahead. "I know they saw me, but they turned and just disappeared into the trees. I don't think they were alone. I think Sam and his crew might have been with them. I've been stumbling around in the forest for an hour, yelling for them. I just barely found the road again when you drove up."

I watched as the crease in his forehead deepened.

"I kind of figured Sam had gotten to him," I said.

Quil turned to stare at me. "You know about that?" he asked.

"Yeah. They told me about it . . . before."

"He never leaves Sam's side." Quil turned to stare out through the windshield again.

"Was it like the others?" I asked. "Was he avoiding people? Was he upset?"

"Not for as long as the others," he said, his voice low. "Maybe one day, then Sam caught up with him."

"What about Josie?"

Quil shook his head. "She's different. I haven't seen her with Sam or the others, but she doesn't want to hang out anymore. I think she knows what's going on, but she's not one of them. She's . . . protecting them, though." He sighed. "She won't even talk to me at school. She stopped tutoring me in Algebra. She used to do that at lunch."

I remembered my old suspicion that Josie hadn't needed my help with Algebra. Here was my proof that it had all been a lie. I missed the days when it would have mattered.

"What do you think is going on?" I asked. "Is it drugs or something?"

"I can't see Jacob or Embry getting into anything like that, but what do I know? What else could it be? And why aren't the old people worried?" He shook his head. "Jacob didn't want to be a part of this . . . cult. I don't understand what could change him." He turned toward me for just a moment before looking away again, and I could see the fear in his eyes. He didn't say it, but I knew what he was feeling. He was afraid he would be next.

"What does your grandfather say?" I asked, but I suspected I already knew the answer.

"He's on the council with Jacob's dad. Sam Uley is the best thing that ever happened to this place, as far as he's concerned."

He was staring out through the windshield again. We'd left the forest behind. I could see the store up ahead.

"I'll get out now. My house is right over there." He pointed toward the little house behind the store. I pulled over to the edge of the road, and Quil got out.

"I'm going over to Jacob and Josie's house," I told him.

"Good luck," he said as he closed the door and walked slowly toward his house. His eyes were on the road at his feet. His shoulders were slumped. He looked utterly miserable. I waited until he'd disappeared behind the store, then turned in the road and headed toward Josie and Jacob's house. I didn't know what I would find, and I didn't know if this would work, but I had to try. I had to talk to Josie. I had to help her find a way to fix whatever was wrong with her brother.

As I parked in the barely graveled driveway, I considered my options. Quil had said Jacob was in the forest with Embry, but where was Josie? Had Billy been telling the truth half an hour ago when he'd said she wasn't home, or had he been lying? I studied the front of the house, searching for any sign of life. It only took a moment for the curtain in one of the windows to slip to the side. Josie peered out through the glass, a confused expression on her face, and then the curtain slid back into position. I sat in the car for another moment, trying to plan what I would say to her, trying to understand why she might be upset. It would be best to let her talk, I decided, to let her get whatever was bothering her off her chest, and then we could try to decide what to do to help Jacob.

I opened the car door and headed toward the house, but just as I started up the ramp, I heard a sound behind me. I turned to see five figures striding out from the trees. Shoulder to shoulder, they looked like the front line of an advancing army. Jacob was one of them.

My mother had been right. He had cut his hair. He'd grown again, too, muscling up even more than he had been already, but that wasn't the most startling thing about him. The cheery disposition I'd known since we were children had vanished, and in its place was a brooding anger that didn't fit him at all. There was a darkness in his eyes, as well, and the way he held himself made it seem like he'd aged years in the weeks since I'd seen him last.

They came to a stop at the edge of the driveway. Only Jacob continued toward the house.

"Hey, Jake."

I glanced behind him toward the others. Their stance, their cropped hair, their skin tone—all were eerily similar. Their expressions held the same dark resentment—even Embry's. Only Sam seemed calm, collected, under control.

"Why are you here?" Jacob asked. There was no friendly greeting, no joking smile. He seemed . . . menacing. I glanced behind him again, to where the others stood. It suddenly occurred to me that if they were looking for a fight, I was toast.

"I came to talk to Josie," I said.

At that moment the door opened, and Billy appeared in the doorway. Josie stood behind him. She didn't seem to be angry, though. She flashed an apologetic frown in my direction.

"Hello, Edward," was all Billy said. I glanced toward Sam and the others. They now stood behind Jacob, a united front.

"Hey, Billy." I took a sideways step up the ramp toward the open door. "I was wondering if I could talk to Josie?"

I watched as Billy's eyes slid past me, focusing on a spot just over my shoulder. Turning, I saw where they were focused, toward the place where everyone's eyes were focused. On Sam.

Sam, who'd been studying me with a much calmer expression than the rest of his gang, turned to Jacob. They shared a silent look before Sam turned to Josie and said something in Quileute. Josie frowned, then sighed and stepped back from the doorway. Billy followed suit, allowing Sam to walk into the house, and Embry and the others followed, leaving Jacob and I alone at the bottom of the ramp. I stared at the now closed front door, wondering what had just happened.

"Okay," Jacob said. He seemed a bit calmer without the rest of Sam's gang behind him, but he was still far from being the cheerful Jacob I'd known for so many years. His eyes seemed haunted, now that some of the anger had drained out of them.

"What's going on?" I asked, but there was no answer. He just stared at me bitterly. Behind me, I could feel people staring out at us through the windows. Was he silent because Sam was watching? I considered for a moment, then jerked my head toward the back of the house. Jacob nodded faintly.

His steps were unnaturally silent as we walked. I wondered if he would tell me the truth once we were out of Sam's line of vision, but even after we'd left the windows of the house behind us, Jacob kept walking until we'd stepped into the shadows of the little garage. There sat the Rabbit, just as it had sat when the three of us had hung out here only weeks before. The half-assembled motorcycles lay uncovered in the corner. I turned and leaned back against the side of the Rabbit, hoping it would remind him of the days the three of us had spent together while he and Josie were putting it back together. I waited expectantly.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Something about him seemed suddenly . . . weary.

"It's not what you think," he began. "It's not what any of us thought. We were way off."

"So what is it?" I asked, but he shook his head.

"I can't tell you," was all he said.

I studied him for a moment. The anger was still there, bubbling just under the surface, but I could see now that it wasn't directed at me. It was aimed elsewhere, at the world in general, perhaps, or at something specific within it. Why couldn't he say anything more? What power did they have over him? I remembered my fears from before, my worries that Josie was somehow in danger.

"Is this about Josie?" I asked. "Are they threatening her? Are you going along with this so they don't hurt her?"

"No! They'd never . . ." He took a small step forward, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I waited another moment, but he didn't finish.

"Then what is it? We both know Josie. I don't speak Quileute, but I'm pretty sure Sam just told her to go back into the house, and she just did it without saying a word. When have you ever known Josie to just knuckle under and let someone tell her what to do?"

But Jacob didn't say anything. Maybe I was looking at this all wrong. Maybe I had it backwards . . .

"Is Sam threatening you?"

"No, it's not like that. It's not like that at all. Sam didn't do anything to me, to any of us. He's helping me as much as he can."

"Helping you do what?" It didn't seem likely, but it was all I could think of. "Get drugs?"

Jacob laughed darkly. The sound nearly made me cringe. It was such a twisted version of the carefree laughter I was so used to hearing. "I wish it was that simple."

At least I had the answer to that question, but I'd never really thought drugs were the problem.

"Is he helping Josie, too?" I finally asked.

He hesitated for just a second. "No. Josie doesn't need help."

"Okay, so how is he helping you?"

"I can't tell you," he said again, sounding impatient. If he wouldn't tell me Sam's secret, maybe I could get him to tell me why he was keeping it.

"Why are you protecting him?"

"Because he's not the bad guy!" Jacob fired back, suddenly defensive. I seemed to have struck a chord, but I couldn't imagine what it was. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

In some far corner of my memory, something echoed. You think you're the bad guy? I heard my own voice ask. I shoved the memory away. I couldn't deal with it now.

"Then who is?"

"You really don't want me to answer that," he said, something ominous creeping into his tone.

I leaned back against the Rabbit. As interventions went, this one was failing. We were going around in circles. I needed to try a new tactic.

"I saw Quil today," I told him. Some new emotion flashed in Jacob's eyes. Pain? Regret? "He followed you and Embry through the forest this afternoon. Did you know that?" But Jacob just closed his eyes, like he was trying to hide from something. "He doesn't understand what's going on, either. I think he's afraid he's next. Do you remember what that felt like? What you said that day by the cliffs? Well, that's how he feels now, only he doesn't have anybody left. His grandfather's no help, and you and Embry are gone. Even Josie won't talk to him anymore."

"No, he can't be next," Jacob said, clenching his hands into fists. I was surprised by the agony in his voice. "It should be over."

"Then why isn't it?"

"I don't know! We ended it!" His reaction was sudden, more violent than it had been before. If I hadn't been leaning against the car, I would have taken a step back.

"What did you end?" I asked.

"You don't want to know." I watched him, waiting for him to say more, but I could see him growing angrier, so I gave him a moment to calm himself. He relaxed his fists after a few deep breaths, but still he said nothing.

"Alright then." I took a step away from the Rabbit. "I'll just go ask Josie."

"No! Leave her out of this. She's already too far in."

"Too far into what? What is Sam doing, Jake?"

"I told you, Sam isn't doing anything. He isn't responsible."

"Then who the hell is?" Jacob might have been bigger and angrier, but I still had a temper of my own, and as much as I was trying to be patient, that patience had a limit, too.

Jacob's hands were shaking now. Alarms were ringing in my head. Could I move fast enough to get out of the way if he started swinging? He took several deliberate steps away from me, and the alarms began to fade. He seemed a bit calmer when he opened his mouth to speak again, but his anger, I discovered, had simply redirected itself.

"If you want to blame someone, why don't you point your finger at those filthy reeking bloodsuckers that you love so much?"

I could feel the acid in his tone, but it was the words themselves that shocked me. They hit just as hard as his fist would have, but they hit me deeper. It was ingrained into me, the need to deny it, to not react, but just the mention of them knocked the air out of my lungs. I couldn't stop myself from stepping back against the Rabbit again. I needed something to hold me up.

"What are you talking about?" I managed to ask.

Jacob grinned darkly. "We both know exactly what I'm talking about. Remember your girlfriend and her family? I'm not the only one in this garage who's keeping secrets."

The mention of her sliced through me like a knife, but I couldn't react. I couldn't let him see the truth of his words.

"You can't seriously believe that." I tried to sound derisive. I couldn't tell if it worked. "It's just more of Billy's superstitious nonsense, remember?"

"We both know that's not true."

Logic. I had to appeal to logic. It was the only way to fight superstition, even if that superstition was true.

"How can they be responsible when they're not even here?"

"Because it started with them." His words were cold, but his hands were shaking.

"But they're not even here," I said again. "How can it be their fault?"

"Because they exist!" he snarled through clenched teeth, and then he turned and stalked back toward the house. I watched until he'd disappeared around the corner, then I leaned forward, bracing my hands on my knees as I waited for the knife to finish twisting in my heart. When the pain had eased enough that I could stand again, I followed him back toward the front of the house. He was waiting by the front door when I came around the corner. His hand, no longer shaking, was resting on the doorknob.

"Don't come here anymore," he said darkly, quietly. "Leave us alone. Leave Josie alone." And then he disappeared into the house.

I stared at the closed door. I hadn't completely caught my breath. I was still reeling from Jacob's mention of her, from his knowledge of the truth of what she was. There was no way to talk him out of it, no way for me to deny it. Did it really matter anymore? I didn't know.

I was still standing at the bottom of the ramp when it started to rain. After a moment the door opened, and Josie appeared in the doorway, her oversized umbrella in hand. I watched as she scowled over her shoulder at someone in the house, then shook her head. She stepped outside, opened the umbrella, and closed the door firmly behind her.

"Hey," she said as she stepped down the ramp. She carefully angled the umbrella so that it sheltered both of us from the gentle rain. I stared down into her face. I'd come here hoping to talk to her, but after what had just happened, I couldn't remember a thing I'd wanted to say.

"I'm so sorry, Josie," I finally managed. I couldn't remember what I was apologizing for. Was it the theater? Arguing with her brother just now? Or just everything in general?

"There's nothing to be sorry for." She smiled at me gently. It was just a little smile, barely a candle to the bright sunshine of her regular smile, but it still made me feel just a little bit better.

"Jacob says I shouldn't come here anymore."

Josie's gaze fell to the front of my shirt. When she looked back up, her smile was gone.

"Maybe, for now, he's right." She glanced back toward the house. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a motion in the living room window as the curtain slid back into place.

"You should probably go," she said. "It's getting late." She reached down to give my hand a quick squeeze. "Goodbye, Edward," she said softly. Then she turned and disappeared back into the house, taking the umbrella with her.

I stood in the rain for another moment, waiting to see if she would come back, but the door didn't open again, so I turned and made my way back to the car. I drove home on autopilot, barely even noticing when the rain picked up and the wind began to blow the raindrops sideways.

My house was empty when I got home. My mother had already left for work. I knew there were leftovers in the refrigerator, but I didn't feel like eating. I trudged into the living room, collapsing onto the sofa in my still-damp clothes and staring up at the ceiling until exhaustion finally overtook me and I fell asleep.

When I awoke several hours later, it was to the sound of someone knocking on the door.