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18. THE FUNERAL
I opened the front door to find Jacob waiting impatiently on the other side, just as Alice had predicted. He stood several feet back from the welcome mat. His nose was wrinkled in distaste, as if there was some unpleasant odor in the air, and his hands trembled faintly at his sides. His face was an expressionless mask, carefully constructed to reveal nothing of what he was feeling, but I could see the anger burning in his eyes.
Behind him, the Rabbit idled at the curb. Jared sat behind the wheel, Embry in the passenger's seat. They stared out at my house with unguarded resentment. But why were they here? To make sure I was still alive? A simple phone call could have answered that question.
I turned my attention back to Jacob, but the mask was still firmly in place. I waited for him to say something, anything to explain his presence, but he said nothing. I watched as he scanned every inch of the front of the house, his eyes lingering at the windows. I didn't have to guess what he was looking for. A moment of silence passed, then another. This was getting ridiculous.
"She isn't here," I finally said. If I'd been expecting him to relax at that news, I was mistaken. The tension in his shoulders didn't ease a bit.
"Is there anyone else here?" he asked after a moment.
"No."
He spent several more seconds inspecting the front windows before he spoke again. "Can I talk to you a minute?"
I glanced toward the curb, to the bitter eyes of his friends in the car. Their gazes were riveted on me now. When had I become the enemy? Oh, right. When I'd jumped off a cliff to lure a vampire back to Forks. I was tempted to ask why they thought Jacob needed so much backup. Alice was just one little vampire, after all. She wasn't even five feet tall. If they were as big and bad as they claimed to be, surely she couldn't have posed that much of a challenge . . . but maybe it wasn't such a good idea to poke the bear . . . or the wolf, as the case may be. I stepped back to let him in.
As Jacob glanced over his shoulder toward the Rabbit, I saw Embry shake his head faintly.
"You can tell them I'm not planning to murder you and bury your remains in a shallow grave in the backyard."
My suspicion that they'd be able to hear me was confirmed by their darkening expressions, but Jacob ignored Embry's warning. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and marched into the house. I could practically feel the hostility rolling out of the Volkswagen as I closed the door behind him.
Jacob took several steps down the hall, then came to a stop. His eyes narrowed as they fixed on the living room couch.
"Where's your friend?" he asked.
"Alice decided to step out for a bit. She seemed to think you and your . . . friends wouldn't be very happy to see her. I can't imagine why."
His jaw set into a firm line, but he made no response until his eyes had finished their survey of the living room.
"Your house absolutely reeks of vampire," he muttered.
"That's funny. She seems to think you're the ones who smell."
He turned toward the kitchen. His hands, I noted, were still shaking faintly.
"I thought you wanted to talk."
But he didn't answer. He was studying the kitchen now, looking over every inch of the room, from the tops of the cabinets to the floor beneath the kitchen table. What next? Was he going to open the refrigerator to see if Alice was hiding inside?
"She's not here," I said again. "Did you want to talk, or are you here to do a home inspection?"
"I don't like having to be here," he finally responded.
"Then why are you here?"
"I just have to ask you a couple of questions. It shouldn't take long. We have to get back for the funeral."
"Fine. Ask them. Then you can leave since you don't like having to be here."
He glared at me for a moment, then took several deep, calming breaths. His trembling hands grew still.
"One of the Cullens is staying here with you," he said.
I thought we'd already established that.
"Yes. Alice Cullen."
"How long is she here for?"
"It's an open invitation. She's my guest . . . and my mother's. She's here until she leaves."
Something flashed in his eyes. He didn't like that answer.
"Did you . . . does she know about the other one—Victoria?"
"Of course. That was the point of her coming here."
Jacob's eyes flashed again, but he took another steadying breath.
"You should know that we can only watch our own lands with a Cullen here," he said after a moment. "You'll only be safe if you're in La Push. We can't protect you or Lizzie here anymore."
Is that why he was here? To talk about the treaty?
"Understood."
He glanced toward the back windows for a moment. Was Alice outside, waiting for him to leave?
"Is there anything else?" I asked when he didn't continue.
His eyes were still studying the window. "Just one more thing."
"Which is . . ." I prompted after a long moment.
"Are the rest of them coming back now?" he asked, turning to face me.
No. It was an easy answer. It was what Alice had told me, what she'd told my mother, but somehow, I couldn't bring myself to say the word.
"Not right now," I finally said. I could say those words, at least. "Alice needs to talk to Carlisle about Victoria, but as of now, it isn't in their immediate plans."
Jacob nodded. "Okay," was all he said.
"That's it?"
He nodded again, but he didn't move from his place beside the kitchen counter. Another long moment passed. He had just taken a breath to finally say something more when he stopped short, puzzlement taking over his carefully guarded expression . . . puzzlement that was soon followed by annoyance. Stepping away from the counter, he headed toward the front window, his scowl only growing deeper as he caught sight of something outside. As he turned toward the front door, I walked over to peer out through the curtains.
Josie was standing at the edge of the brick driveway, staring up at the windows of the second floor. She was wearing a black dress—her attire for Harry's funeral, apparently. I looked toward the street, wondering how she'd made it past Jared and Embry, but the Rabbit and its two passengers had disappeared. An unfamiliar truck now sat at the curb. I followed Jacob toward the front door.
"What are you doing here?" I heard him ask.
"You said she wasn't here," Josie answered.
"That didn't mean it was safe for you!"
"I just want to see . . ." she trailed off as I stepped into view. "Edward," she finished, offering me a faint smile.
I might have been angry at Jacob and his friends, but I couldn't be mad at Josie. I offered her a weak smile in return.
"Hey, Josie. See? I'm fine."
Her smile widened with relief, and she took a small step toward the house. Jacob took a step forward as well, crossing the threshold to block the front door.
"She's not here," I reminded Jacob for what felt like the ten millionth time.
"I still don't like her coming inside," he grumbled.
Josie's eyes moved from Jacob to me and then back to her brother. "I don't have to go in," she said. "We can talk outside." Jacob frowned. "I just want to talk to him."
Jacob's expression didn't change, but after a moment, he nodded. I stepped around him and eased down onto the edge of the little front porch. Carefully, her eyes taking one last cautious sweep of the windows before making her way up the front walk, Josie sat down beside me. Jacob took up position in the open doorway behind us and tried to look like he wasn't listening.
For a moment, neither of us seemed to know what to say, but then we both tried to talk at the same time.
"Jake—"
"Josie—"
We each stopped to let the other go first, then frowned at the awkwardness of the moment.
"Go ahead," I told her. In truth, I wasn't sure what I'd been about to say anyway.
"Jake wouldn't let me talk to you the other night," she began. "Dad wouldn't let me call, either. I've been worried."
I sighed. I was getting tired of saying the same things over and over again.
"I'm fine, Josie. I know what you all think about Alice, but she's my friend. She's not going to hurt me."
Josie didn't acknowledge my statement, but at least she didn't argue with it, either. She glanced down to where her hands lay folded in her lap, then back up toward the borrowed truck.
"Things keep getting more and more complicated," she said after a moment.
And really, how else could I respond to that?
"I know."
She looked down toward her hands again, then smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle in her dress.
"But we're still friends, right?" she asked, turning her eyes toward me again.
For just a moment, I remembered another time she'd asked me that question. We'd been sitting on a bench in the empty lobby of a movie theater, the muffled soundtrack of an action sequence drifting faintly through closed doors down the hall. I'd been trying to tell her that I wasn't ready for the kind of relationship she was hoping for, that I might never be ready for it. She had told me that was okay, that she would wait until I was ready and that we would still be friends, even if that never happened.
"Right," I told her. "No matter what."
She smiled at the recollection of that shared memory, and suddenly I found myself struck by something else.
I wasn't used to seeing Josie in a dress. It was usually old t-shirts and faded jeans. Her hair was usually pulled back in a ponytail, too, or a braid, not falling down over her shoulders in a dark, silky waterfall. She was always pretty, of course—what she wore had nothing to do with it—but something about the way she looked up at me in that moment made something inside of me twist a little harder than it usually did.
I watched as the light in her brown eyes shifted, as the angle of her face changed and her lips parted slightly, and I suddenly realized that this was one of those moments that sneak up on you without warning, one of those moments that can end up defining the rest of your life, whether you were expecting it or not.
Because Josie Black was looking at me like a girl who was waiting to be kissed.
And there was a part of me that very much wanted to do it.
It would be so easy, so completely natural, to just lean down and press my lips against hers. Her brother, who'd been standing in the doorway behind us, had already drifted away to give us some privacy, but as much as there was a part of me that wanted to kiss her, there was another part of me that knew I couldn't. Because even though spending time with Josie made the world a little brighter, there was someone else out there, someone I loved who'd loved me so much that she'd given me up just to keep me safe. Someone who was suffering just as much without me as I was without her. And until I really, truly knew that Bella was happy without me, I couldn't let her go.
Behind us, through the open doorway, I heard the phone ring. We both blinked, the intensity of the moment broken. I turned away. "I should get that."
As I stepped through the open front door, I could feel Josie's eyes following me. I was still so preoccupied by what had just happened that I didn't even realize the phone had stopped ringing until I heard Jacob's voice.
"Masen residence."
It was my mother, most likely, calling to check on something at home. Anyone else who might call would know she was in La Push.
"She's not here," I heard Jacob say as I stepped into the kitchen. "She's at the funeral." And then, before I could reach out to take it from him, he hung up the phone.
"Filthy bloodsucker," he muttered under his breath.
Filthy bloodsucker. I glared at him. Had that been Alice then, trying to figure out if Jacob and the others had left? No, if I understood the way her blindness worked, she would know they were gone when she could see again, so she wouldn't need to call.
She's at the funeral. Whoever called had been looking for my mother. But why would Alice be looking for my mother?
"Who was that?" I asked. "Who did you just hang up on?"
Behind me, I heard the soft shuffle of a footstep in the hall. Josie had followed me inside.
"No one," Jacob answered. "She'd already hung up on me."
"Who? Who had?"
"Mrs. Esme Cullen," he sneered.
Esme? No, that couldn't be right. Esme was one of the sweetest people I knew, human or vampire. I couldn't imagine her ever hanging up on someone. And why would she have been calling here? They must have gotten back from their hunting trip. They must have gotten Alice's message. But why would she be calling here for Alice? Was Alice not answering her phone? And Alice wasn't at the funeral . . .
"She was looking for my mother?" I asked, confused.
"She asked where Lizzie was and I told her."
"Jake," I began, but Jacob wasn't listening to me anymore. His eyes had gone wide and he was looking back over his shoulder. His body stiffened, and his hands began to tremble. Pulling his eyes away, he turned back to where his sister stood in front of the now closed front door. Her hand still rested on the doorknob.
"Josie," he choked out, flying across the kitchen toward her, but by the time he'd made it to the door, Josie's eyes, too, were open wide. Jacob spun around to face whatever threat had alarmed him, his sister pressed against the door at his back.
Alice stood at the foot of the stairs. She made a strange, strangled sound, something between a gasp and a sob, but she paid no attention to the werewolf standing only a few feet away. She was trembling and her eyes were dazed as she stared at something no one else could see.
"Alice?"
She blinked, focusing on my face. The pain in her expression was unmistakable.
"Bella," she whispered.
For a second, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. I grabbed her shoulders to steady us both.
"Alice? What is it? What happened?"
"I don't know," she cried. "What is she thinking?"
In the blink of an eye, she had slipped out from under my hands and was standing across the room. She pulled a small silver phone from her bag, her fingers flying across the keypad as she dialed.
"Rose, I need to talk to Carlisle now." Her words came out so quickly that I could barely understand them. "Fine, as soon as he's back. No, I'll be on a plane. Look, have you heard anything from Bella?"
Alice was silent for a moment as she listened to whatever Rosalie was saying. Her expression grew more appalled with each passing second.
"Why? Why would you do that Rosalie?"
Alice's jaw tightened.
"Well, you're wrong on both counts, though, Rosalie, so that would be a problem, don't you think?" I'd rarely seen Alice angry, but she was livid now. Her voice was hard, and her lips were pulled back from her teeth in a snarl. "Yes, that's right. He's absolutely fine. I was wrong. It's a long story, but you're wrong about that part, too. That's why I'm calling. Yes, that's exactly what I saw."
There was another pause as she waited for Rosalie to answer. I could feel a chill creeping slowly along my spine. I tried to ignore it, but it only grew colder with each passing second.
"It's a bit late for that, Rose. Save your remorse for someone who believes it." And then she snapped the phone shut, ending the conversation.
"Alice? What's going on? I thought Carlisle and Esme were back already. She just called."
Alice stared at me in confusion. "Esme called here? When?"
"Just before you came back. Maybe . . . thirty seconds earlier?"
Alice took a step forward. Her eyes narrowed. "What did she say?"
"I don't know. I didn't talk to her. Jacob did."
I'd almost forgotten Jacob was even there. I turned to find him standing in front of the door. Josie hid behind him, her eyes wide as she peered around his shoulder at Alice. Her nostrils flared slightly.
I could see the change in Jacob's stance as Alice's gaze came to rest on them. He straightened, pushing his arms out to the sides to provide more cover for his sister.
"She asked for Lizzie," he explained, his eyes fixed on Alice. His expression was twisted with disgust. "I told her she wasn't here."
"Is that everything?" Alice demanded.
"Then she hung up on me," Jacob spit back. His whole body was trembling now.
"The funeral," I said. "You told her about the funeral."
Alice turned back to face me. "Exactly what did he say?"
"He said, 'She's not here,' and when Esme asked where Mom was, Jacob said, 'At the funeral.'"
Alice moaned and slid to the floor. I didn't understand what was going on, but I knew it was very, very bad. "What's going on, Alice?"
"That wasn't Esme on the phone," she explained miserably.
"Are you calling me a liar?" Jacob snarled, but Alice ignored him.
"It was Bella," she whispered, her eyes focusing on my face. "She thinks you're dead."
The chill that had run down my spine earlier curled into icy claws. Something dark began to push at the edges of my memory.
"Rosalie told her what you saw, didn't she? She told her I was dead."
"Yes," Alice answered. "In her defense, she did believe it. They rely on my sight far too much for something that works so imperfectly. But for her to track Bella down and tell her this! Didn't she realize . . . or care?" I could hear the horror in her voice. My stomach sank even further.
"So Bella called here, pretending to be Esme, and she thought Jacob was talking about my . . . funeral." I barely managed to push the last word out. I had found the memory. The icy claws wrapped themselves around my heart and squeezed. I felt like I couldn't breathe.
"I didn't know what we would find when we got to you in Phoenix," Bella had said that long ago day as we'd snuggled up on the couch to watch Romeo and Juliet die. "I didn't know if you'd be alive, or if I'd be too late, and you'd be gone. It was something I had to think about."
"What did you have to think about?" I'd asked.
"What I would do if we were too late," she'd answered, "if you had died."
I stared at Alice, the horror on my own face, I was certain, mirroring what I could see on hers. I could see in her eyes that she knew I understood.
"But . . . but it's not possible . . . Carlisle tried. He couldn't. She would need . . ."
"Help," Alice finished for me. "She's going to Italy."
"Italy? What's in Italy?"
"The Volturi," she whispered. "They're a very old family, the closest thing we have to royalty. They're—"
"I remember." The Volturi. There was a memory for that, too, an older memory of an afternoon in Carlisle's study . . . Rows of paintings lined up to tell the story of an ageless life . . .
"He was studying in Italy when he found them . . Aro, Marcus, and Caius, referred to simply as 'the Volturi.' They were refined, cultured, well-versed in art and science . . . but while their social refinement was impressive, they had no respect for human life. After years of their attempts to dissuade him from his chosen lifestyle, Carlisle decided to leave. He still craved the company of his own kind, but he wouldn't waver in his resolve to aid humanity . . . "
"What about them?"
"They're still there. Holed up in their tower in Volterra, just as they have been for millennia."
I was going to be sick. This was all my fault. If I hadn't jumped . . .
"What do we do, Alice? We have to stop her. If we call her . . . if she talks to me—"
"I already tried to call her. That was the first thing I did, but she won't answer. She still has her phone, but she doesn't want to talk."
That couldn't be our only chance. "What are our other options?"
"I'll have to hurry," she said, her eyes going out of focus again. "If I can get to Italy, if I can stop her . . ."
"How long do we have to get there?"
Alice's eyes flitted up to mine.
"Edward, I . . . I don't think I can ask you to—"
"If you think I'm going to stay here when she needs me . . ."
Alice lifted her hands to my shoulders. "We may already be too late. I saw her going to the Volturi and asking to die. It all depends on what they choose. I can't see that until they make a decision."
"Could they refuse?"
"They might. Aro is fond of Carlisle and wouldn't want to offend him. But there are a lot of possibilities right now. Bella knows they might refuse. She hasn't settled on a contingency plan, but she has considered a few fleeting possibilities. If Aro refuses, she will try to force their hand. They're very protective of their city. If she does something to upset the peace, they will act to stop her. That decision is so ingrained in them that they don't even have to decide. I can already see what they'll do."
I swallowed down the panic.
"How much time do we have?"
"That depends on Bella. She's already in England, much closer than we are. She could be in Italy long before we can get there, but I don't see her leaving yet. She has . . . something else to take care of first. If she gets there soon enough and they agree to grant her favor, we're too late. If they refuse, and she decides on a contingency plan right away, we're too late. If they don't make a decision right away or if something stalls her plans, we might have time."
"Alright." Even a little chance was still a chance. I turned toward the stairs. I could pack a bag in less than five minutes. Alice grabbed my arm, pulling me back.
"Listen, Edward! Whether we are in time or not, we will be in the heart of the Volturi city. I will be considered her accomplice if she is successful. You will be a human who knows far too much. There's a very good chance that they will eliminate us all—though in your case it won't be punishment so much as dinnertime."
"It doesn't matter."
"I don't want to get you killed."
"I don't care, Alice." I could feel my heart racing . . . racing and breaking. "She needs me."
Alice considered for barely a second then nodded.
"Write a note for Lizzie," she instructed. "I'll call the airlines."
"Mom . . ." I glanced toward Jacob.
"I'm not going to let anything happen to Lizzie," he promised, his voice low. "Screw the treaty."
I nodded as I looked past him toward Josie. Her brown eyes held concern and curiosity now, not just fear.
"Hurry, Edward," Alice urged.
Breaking away from Josie's gaze, I ran to the kitchen, grabbing the pad of paper my mother used to write out her grocery lists and the pen that lay beside the phone.
Mom, Alice and I had to go. Bella needs me. I know it's a bad time, and I'm sorry. I paused. This might be my last chance to say anything I needed to say. I love you, I wrote. Edward
"Get your wallet," Alice told me as I stumbled back out of the kitchen. "You'll need ID. Please tell me you have a passport. I don't have time to forge one."
I nodded as I raced up the stairs. I tore through my bedroom, stuffing my backpack full of whatever clean clothes I could find. I experienced three seconds of panic before I found my passport on the opposite side of the drawer from where I thought it should be. My most recent ex-step-mother hadn't been my favorite, but at least her bizarre plan for a "family vacation" to Madrid had gotten me a passport . . . even if the trip had never gone past the planning phase.
As I zipped my backpack and headed back out of the bedroom, I could hear an argument downstairs.
"You might control yourself on occasion," Jacob was saying, "but these leeches you're taking him to—"
"Yes, you're right, dog. The Volturi are the very essence of our kind—they're the reason your hair stands on end when you smell me. They are the substance of your nightmares, the dread behind your instincts. I'm not unaware of that."
"And you take him to them like a bottle of wine for a party!" he accused.
"You think he'd be better off if I left him here alone, with Victoria stalking him?"
As I started down the stairs, I could see Alice and Jacob standing beside the front door. It was open now, and their positions had shifted, but Josie was still carefully shielded behind Jacob's back.
"We can handle the redhead," Jacob insisted.
"Then why is she still hunting?"
Jacob growled, a shudder rippling through his torso. I should have been terrified that a supernatural fight was about to break out, but all I could think about was Bella.
"You're a fine one to talk about control when you can barely hold yourself together, Jacob Black!" Alice chastised. "Your sister is right behind you. At this moment, you're more of a danger to her than I'll ever be!"
"We don't have time for this!" I told them as I reached the bottom of the stairs. "You can argue later!" At least I hoped they could. I hoped we all could.
Alice disappeared through the front door. She was moving so fast that I couldn't even see her. I followed her out, Josie and Jacob on my heels.
"Please don't go," Josie begged as I turned to lock the door.
"I have to."
"Please?" she asked again, laying her hand on my arm. As I frowned down at her, I could see the fear and the misery in her eyes.
Out on the street, Alice was revving the engine of Carlisle's Mercedes impatiently. The clock was ticking.
Josie took a shaky breath. "Just . . . please come back," she whispered.
I couldn't promise her that I would. I didn't know what lay ahead, and I didn't want to make a promise that I might not be able to keep. Instead I just nodded, pulling her in for one last, brief hug.
"Goodbye, Josie," I said gently. "I'm sorry."
Then I stepped back and ran toward the open door of the black Mercedes. I threw my backpack into the back seat and pulled the door closed behind me as Alice slammed her foot down on the accelerator, spinning us around to face the road. As the tires squealed in protest, I took one last look out the window. Josie was standing in front of my house, following the car with her eyes. Her brother was nowhere in sight, but as Alice pressed her foot to the accelerator once more, I caught sight of something white at the edge of the trees.
I was fairly certain it was a piece of shoe.