Chapter 8

Edward Cullen was frustrated beyond his mind. Isabella Swan had just called him to say that she wouldn't be seeing him for a while, maybe never again. She knew what he was, she'd said. But it wasn't because of that, though. She just couldn't spend time with him because her boyfriend was one of the La Push shapeshifters.

But it couldn't be. What were the chances of that happening? The first woman he had ever wanted who had made him yearn to be a human again, a human who could touch and feel a warm woman's body, love, and be loved as only humans could, was dating a wolf. Freaking WOLF! His natural enemy. The ONLY enemy he had in the entire world was dating his Isabella.

How could someone so exquisite and delicate, beautiful and amazing musician be with something so vile, volatile, and boorish? Something that smelled foul, like a wet dog, who was a dog.

He had waited 100 years to meet someone like Isabella Swan. He had thought he had been on his way to get her heart, to make her fall in love with him. He'd been a bit surprised she wasn't already. But there must be something in her that could block his allure, and it had to do something with her mind that was silent to him.

He was mesmerized by her; he couldn't read her mind. She was silent to him. It must mean something. It must mean that they are meant to be. Isabella's mind would always stay a mystery to him. When you had an eternity, it was the greatest of gifts one could have.

They never talked about anything else than music and playing. Edward didn't know much about Isabella's life, her family, nothing really. Isabella was a very private person, and he wanted to know everything about her. But now she was telling him she wouldn't be seeing him anymore.

That would NOT do!

Edward had planned to draw her into his life bit by bit, show her everything he could offer her; he could offer her the world, all that was available for a spectacularly wealthy and talented as he was. What a power pair in the music they could be. He would change her, and they would live and play and make music together forever.

The part that her blood sang to him was a bonus. He loved the temptation that came with the allure of her blood. He had excellent self-control, but he'd been on the brink of losing it many times. It excited him; it aroused him beyond anything - the thought of what if he did, in fact, lose it.

But now she says that she doesn't want to see him and is in love with a dog. NO, NO, NO, he would not allow that. Isabella was his.

"Hey brother, what's that sour look on your face?"

"Rosalie, mind your own business," Edward wasn't in a mood to chit chat with the least favorite person in his family.

"Aww, problems in the la-la-land?"

Edward just looked at the blond bitch and left the house without a word.

Fuck, it wasn't easy, just as Bella had said it wouldn't be. This was her fourth time in Seattle in the last month and a half, and Paul was fucking losing his mind. It would be okay if they knew things would change at some point and that this was only temporary, but there was no way of knowing if they would ever have anything more than a week here other than there to be together. As long as he couldn't leave the Res, things would suck big time. But it was their life now, and as it was the only way for them to be together, he was happy.

When they finally were together, they hardly left the bedroom in her apartment or his house. Sam was fair that he allowed him to do extra patrolling when Bella was away, and when she was home, they could spend uninterrupted time together. Sam wasn't heartless, it seemed, and he had earned some of Paul's respect back. But Sam did mention again that things would end badly for them two. Paul was tempted to say that he knew shit, but it wasn't actually so, was it.

Paul was sitting on driftwood by the bonfire, nursing his beer. It was held to welcome two new puppets to the pack. Embry had imprinted on a girl named Katie, who had been visiting a friend from the Makah reservation. Seth, who had phased less than a month ago, had imprinted on a girl named Johana, yet another Quileute girl.

The pack had now nine wolfs in total, Colin, Brady, and Seth being the last pups to phase, and six of the wolves were imprinted since Jake had imprinted on a girl named Milly a month ago. She was an annoying bitch, and he felt sorry for the poor sod. Baby alpha was set for life with a woman who was both stupid and cold-hearted. Good luck with that. But Jakob didn't notice there was anything wrong with his 'soulmate'. The fucking voodoo was blinding him. Well, maybe it was better that way. But it was hard to see how that bitch could be anybody's 'perfect match'.

Paul didn't want to be there, but Sam had insisted that the whole pack had to attend to these bonfires except the one on patrol. He had volunteered last time, so Sam didn't let him go tonight. So here they were all merry and some shit, eight wolves and six imprints and the elders. Billy Black was soon going to start with the legends. Colin and Brady were taking bets on which one of them would imprint first.

"Where is your imprint?" someone asked. Paul didn't realize that it was a question for him, but when the wolves stopped talking, he turned to see who had spoken.

It was Embry's imprint. Embry looked like he had swallowed a sparrow, and Paul felt sorry for him. He wasn't going to fly out of the handle, and he decided to be nice instead. He was able to be civil.

"I don't have an imprint," he said, hoping the girl would leave it.

"Don't worry, you will someday get your girl," the girl continued.

Was she for real?

"Do I look like I don't have a girl?" he sneered at the stupid girl and glanced at Embry, who looked terrified, pulling an equally terrified imprint against his chest. Everybody in the pack had learned not to talk to Paul about imprinting; it wasn't worth his wrath. Newbies were on a learning curve here, it seemed.

"Um...I.. I .." the girl stuttered.

"I have a girl, and IF I ever imprint, I'm not going to accept it. I'm going to break it and marry MY girl," Paul said, and all the imprints gasped, and the elders started to speak all at once.

"What do you mean by marrying someone else than your imprint?" Milly, the stupid bitch asked.

"Exactly that. I've met the woman I'm going to marry, and she's not my imprint. I'm never going to marry anybody else."

"ENOUGH!" Old Quil said with a raised voice, "young-Lahote, you are not allowed to spread your blasphemy thoughts about imprinting. You are upsetting the imprints. It is unacceptable; they ARE gifts from the Great Spirit. I forbid you to speak that way when we celebrate the GIFTS given to you, Spirit Warriors. Once you imprint, you'll see that there is nothing you can do about it, and you WILL be grateful."

Paul just huffed and took a swig from his beer. Old Quil was shooting daggers at him, and he had to work very hard not to flip a bird at him. He smirked instead. Old Quil turned his head towards the bonfire with a look that didn't promise roses for one young-Lahote. Paul shook his head and emptied his bottle.

"It's time for the legends," Billy Black informed, clearing his throat, and all the attention turned to him. New girls were giggling, and the couples were making themselves comfortable around the fire. So cozy and mushy. It was a cue for Paul to take a hike. He didn't want to hear any more fucked up legends, and since Sam was lip-locked with Emily, he didn't notice him leaving. He would tear him a new one tomorrow, but he didn't give a damn right now.

He left the brainwashed looneys and walked away from the beach. He missed Bella like crazy. She was coming home the day after tomorrow and would stay longer this time. Her next concert wasn't until the end of March. He secretly hoped that Bella would have some other passion, which would keep her closer to him, like teaching or writing or aspiration to own her own business like a bookshop or a café. They could have a business together.

"Psst... young-Lahote."

He heard someone shout, whispering, dragging him out of his musings. He turned to see who it was and saw Harry Clearwater waving him to follow him.

What the fuck did he want? Everybody knew that Harry was a bit of a nutjob. He was one of the elders, but only in an official capacity; everybody knew that his wife Sue was the one doing the actual job, whatever that shit entitled.

Harry Clearwater didn't care for anything than fishing and his beers and bottle of Jack. He had started drinking more heavily after his life-long friend Charlie Swan had died, and it had gone out of hand when Leah left La Push. Maybe he could persuade Harry to let him see the old diaries. This far, Harry had always been either drunk or dwelling in his world, not giving him any time of the day when he had tried to talk to him.

"Come on, young-Lahote. I can help you and your beautiful Bella."

What the hell? Harry sounded almost sober. Paul followed Harry, marching briskly towards the pub behind the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" he shout-whispered back.

"I think Greg's would be good. You probably need a good drink after all that bullshit, eh?" Harry said, laughing his signature cackle. Boy, he sounded a total mental case when he laughed like that.

"Wouldn't hurt," Paul chuckled.

They went inside, and the bar was packed; it was Friday night, after all. Greg waved at them behind the bar and showed them the corner where one always found Harry. It was empty.

"Two jacks and vitamin Rs," Harry shouted to Greg, and he nodded.

They went to sit.

"Now, young-Lahote, I want to help you and your young woman. I don't know if I can, but I know those old buffoons are hiding something. Nobody knows about imprinting more than chief Black and Old Quil. You know Quileute, don't you?"

"Yes, my granny made me learn it, and I'm fluent," Paul told him. His grandmother hadn't given him a choice when he was a kid. In her opinion, knowing your heritage was the most important thing in the world, and one couldn't know it if you didn't know your own language. And hell, learning an almost dead language was a hell lot better than being at home and serving as a punching bag for your drunken old man.

"That's excellent. So, what we are going to do is that you sneak into the archive room with me," Harry said and showed him a big key that looked ancient, "and we read together what is in there. I've been reading the journals couple of months now. My progress is so slow because I can't see so well."

"That's awesome. Damn. Thank you," Paul said, not quite sure had he heard him saying all that.

Greg brought their drinks, and Harry didn't waste time gulping down the jack. Paul followed suit and grimaced. Not his favorite booz brought up some bad memories too. He shuddered; thank fuck that part of his life was gone forever.

"Have you found anything so far?" Paul asked.

"No, I haven't. And there is a mystery of one missing journal. There were eight when I started to read them, and now there are only seven. "

"That doesn't sound good, now does it?" Paul asked worriedly.

"We'll see about that, but no, it doesn't," Harry said.

"Why do you want to help us, not that I'm complaining?"

"Well, I know that something important had been left out from the legends. Something that everybody involved should know. I hate that they use power over you, young people. Imprinting ruined my baby-girls dreams. And I've seen you two together, and I might be an old fool, but I can see the love you two share. And I know you have had a fair share of bullshit in your life, young-Lahote, and you deserve some happiness. I admire your spirit; it's a strong one. And," he took a long swig of his beer, smacked his mouth, and swiped it, "I want good Ol' Charlie's kids to be happy. After he died, I promised myself to keep my eye on them."

Harry's words touched Paul.

"When can we start?"

Bella's phone buzzed; it was Paul. Her heart leaped into her throat, and she closed her eyes.

Would this be the call? Would he tell her he had imprinted?

Her hand was shaking when she picked up the phone.

"Hey Paul," she answered.

"Baby, Harry Clearwater will help us find more about imprinting," came Paul's excited voice.

Bella let out the breath she had been holding, and she smiled. She massaged her temple, trying to soften the throbbing headache.

"What do you mean?"

Paul told him how Harry had wanted to talk to him and told him they would read all that was written about imprinting. "He is sure that we'll find something to help us."

Paul sounded so happy and full of energy that she, too, felt happier.

"That's great news, baby. I miss you so much."

"Fuck, you can't even start to imagine how much I miss you. We had one of those happy ever after bonfires tonight, and I don't know how many of those I can stomach."

"Poor baby," Bella tried to sound amused but failed. She was actually holding tears; somedays, all this stress was just too much.

"Are you having one of your headaches again? You sound so tired," Paul asked, worry lacing his voice.

"Yeah. It is crazy busy here, and I don't sleep so well when I'm not with you," Bella told him. He knew how it was. Their situation was far from perfect, but there was nothing they could do about it.

"But I'm so happy that we have something to work on now. And I'll be home soon. We have almost three weeks to be together."

"Jesus baby, I can't wait."

"Patrick comes here tomorrow morning, and we'll drive back to La Push together on Saturday morning. You want me to come to yours or meet at my place?"

They chatted for an hour, and then she had to try to get some sleep. She was so tired. She did her bedtime routine and dove between the sheets. She hugged her pillow, Paul's t-shirt as a pillowcase, and closed her eyes. Her phone buzzed, and she smiled; Paul was probably sending one more text. No, it was Edward wishing her good luck for tomorrow's concert.

She sighed. Edward had been sending her text messages many times a week, sometimes almost every day. He didn't ask her to meet him, he knew she wouldn't, but he wondered what she was doing, all about what they were practicing with the orchestra and such. He had been in many of the concerts.

Truth be told, it had started to creep her out a bit. She had liked Edward, even learning the truth about him hadn't made her like him less, but what he was doing now was starting to feel a bit stalkerish. Paul didn't like that she had any contact with him, but Bella had thought it was okay if they didn't actually get together. She didn't want to rile up the wolf, and spending time with Edward wasn't worth pissing Paul off. She understood perfectly where he was coming from with his hate towards the Cullens and the likes of them.

She replied thanks quickly and put the phone away. She hugged the pillow and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of Paul.

AN:

So now we've seen inside Edward's head. I find it very difficult to write the Cullens, I simply don't know how, but we need to know what is brewing in Eddie's mind so there will be snippets here and there.