Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chapter 7: Ignorance Was Bliss
BPOV
I am definitely feeling twinges of excitement as I prepare for my date with James.
That may be because he was my favourite 'datee' all along or merely because I need to get out of Forks and have some fun.
Either way I am throwing most of my caution to the winds and going all out for this. We are even skipping the coffee thing and going straight for dinner.
Since Charlie is currently spending less time at La Push, he is aware that I am going on a blind date tonight and has insisted on some precautions. Freshly tested pepper spray in my purse? Check. Hourly text in, I objected to having to call him. Check. Leaving the number of the restaurant we will be at? Check. Snow chains in the trunk even though the snow this year has been light, and the roads are clear? Check.
I set off for Port Angeles in high spirits. Freedom calls!
About half an hour into the journey I become aware of a car coming up fast behind me which soon starts flashing its lights. Assuming they want more speed, and annoyed at their aggressive driving, I indicate and pull over. Immediately to be distracted by Charlie's name popping up on my cell. Assuming I am well out of anyone's way I pick up.
"Hi."
"Bella, there's no booking for any James at your restaurant."
"Char . . . dad, why would you even . . ."
Apparently, I have not pulled off the road far enough because before I can formulate my objections to his interference, I am hit so hard my car pings off the road into the ditch.
"Fuck!"
"Bella?!"
"Oh, shit," I groan as another hit rolls me over completely. Thank god Charlie made wearing a seatbelt as natural as breathing. If I were a proponent of mom's laissez faire attitude to road safety I would be an unconscious pretzel by now.
The electrics in the car splutter out, taking the radio with them, plunging me into dark and silence. Apart from the loud noises coming from somewhere outside. Bangs, crashes, snarling and unformed screams.
I cannot lie. I am terrified as another hit rolls my car back on its wheels.
Desperately I try to re-start the engine, but nothing happens and in mere moments the door beside me rips off and something grabs me, yanking me hard enough to break me free of the seatbelt and dislocate my shoulder.
My scream of pain is drowned out by the cacophony in the darkness around me.
Flung out on the cold wet dirt I open my eyes to find a pair of lambent red ones staring down at me. There is just enough light to make out the twisted features of a woman with alabaster skin and wild hair before she is abruptly yanked away and thrown into a nearby Sitka spruce.
Hard hands roll me over and propel me back towards the car, which seems like a safe haven until a humongous wolf appears on top of it.
I scream again as it leaps, but it clears me easily and plunges into whatever fracas is raging behind me.
Inordinately grateful I resume my crab like scramble to the perceived safety of the car, moaning in pain every time I try to use my useless arm.
Something cold grabs my ankle and starts pulling me backwards through the muck.
A howl of primal rage halts whatever it is just long enough for it to let go. And then it is gone, its screeching fear ringing in my ears.
The car if I can just get to the car . . . .
A young man, at least I think he is, flies over my head and lands on the car, crushing it, screaming in defiance until the wolf reappears, ripping him in half with its jaws, like the shark in Jaws, strangely enough. The metallic screech of it sets my teeth on edge and I cower away, curling myself into a ball against the illogical sights and horrifying sounds around me.
"What hell is this? What hell is this? What hell is this?" Someone, with a voice like mine, is narrating quietly. "What hell is this? What hell is this? What hell is this? What hell is . . . ."
…..
"She's waking up."
"Edward," Alice whispers, "you should probably back up and give her some space."
I open my eyes to impenetrable bright.
"Bella?"
I turn my head, slowly, to focus on Esme smiling down at me.
"Hi, Esme."
"Hello, Bella. How are you feeling?"
"Confused."
"Can you explain why?" Carlisle asks softly from somewhere over to my left.
"Where am I?"
"Hospital," he replies, "you had a car wreck."
No. That is not exactly what happened.
"Do you remember?" He probes.
"No. Not really. It was dark. Someone hit me."
"Do you remember being thrown from the car?"
No. I was pulled.
"No."
"Do you recall hitting your head at all?"
"No. Dislocated my shoulder."
"Yes, you certainly did. How is the pain?"
"Numb."
"Can you be more specific?"
"Where is Charlie?" I ask.
"He's been here all night," Esme replies, "we sent him home for a coffee and a change of clothes."
"I want to talk to Charlie."
"I'll call him now," she assures me.
Cool, I can sleep while I wait for him. I am so tired . . . .
…..
I open my eyes again to the dreary sight that is a room in Forks Community hospital and Charlie, slouched in a chair, reading a fishing magazine.
"Dad."
"Bella, thank fuck, are you okay?"
"What happened?"
"We're investigating now but it looks like something ran you off the road. Hard."
"What happened to James?"
"Bella, there was no James. That's what I was trying to tell you when I called you."
"No James? Then who have I been talking to?"
"We have no idea," he confesses, "but we're doing our best to find out."
"Did he have something to do with the accident?"
"I'm not ruling it out at this point."
"I'm sorry dad."
"Hush," he orders, "I'm just glad you're okay."
…..
"Are you sure you're going to be alright on your own?"
"Carlisle has given me enough pain killers to numb a horse," I remind Charlie as he looms over me. "I have only temporarily lost the use of one arm. I will be fine. Go to work."
"What are you going to do?" He asks.
"Read a book and sleep. Go."
"Fine. I'll see you in a couple of hours."
"Bye."
He finally leaves and I wriggle down into the couch to wait.
About ten minutes later there is a knock at the door.
"Come in," I instruct.
"Hello, Bella." Alice greets me quietly as she enters the room.
"Hello, Alice. Please sit down."
"I suppose you want an explanation?" She asks.
"You suppose correctly. "
"We never meant you any harm, quite the opposite, but our actions attracted attention to you and for that we are truly sorry . . ."
She pauses for the longest time, her eyes focussed somewhere over my ruined shoulder, and then she sighs. Heavily.
"Bella, have you noticed anything strange about my family and I?"
"I guess. You are not related, but you all have the same gold eyes. You are all incredibly good looking and well-constructed. You are all healthy and robust. You all have the same pale skin and your skin is always cold. In all this time I have never really seen any of you eat or drink anything." I search my feelings for a moment, wondering how much to reveal of my thoughts. "You are a little strange, a little off somehow . . . ."
When she does not look offended, I continue.
"You are all so still, and when you do move it is so careful, like you are afraid of something. Most of the townspeople are a little afraid of you and the Quileutes loathe you. I can understand the fear, to be honest, not that I know exactly how to describe it properly. There is something, wrong, about you that makes the skin prickle and the senses sharpen. Then there is the way you behave, it is like you always know where I am or what I am thinking," I shrug, "its creepy."
She smiles in understanding and indulges in another sigh.
"Can you keep a secret, Bella?"
"I suppose, if I think it is the right thing to do."
"I hope you will," she says softly, "my family's lives will depend on it."
She tunes out again for a moment and then shakes herself back to the present.
"My family and I," she says, "we're not human."
"Right," I snort.
"We used to be human," she insists, "but we're not anymore, and haven't been for a long time."
"What are you then?"
"I can't tell you that."
Even though I know there is something odd about them, I am annoyed. Space aliens? Really?
"What kind of game are you playing here, Alice?"
"Please, Bella, let me explain what I can?"
"I might as well," I concede, "since I am stuck here all day anyway."
"Thank you."
"This is not the first time we have lived here," she begins, "we were first here in the 1930s."
"Okay."
She smiles at my attitude, and then continues.
"We moved back just over a year ago. We have to move a lot because we don't age. We don't often go back to places where we've lived before, but if we do it has to many decades later to avoid being recognised. We came back here because the climate is perfect for us. Did you know that Forks get some of the least sun in the US?"
"I did."
"That works for us because we can't go out in the sun."
"Why not?"
"We sparkle," she says, matter of fact, "and if you roll your eyes any harder you will go blind."
"I am a doctor," I remind her, for several reasons.
"We are all a lot older than we look, but most of us go back to school in each town because as a family it is easier for us to integrate. For example, I have 'graduated' nearly fifty times, have a dozen college degrees and one doctorate. Edward has graduated medical school three times and Rose once; she doesn't like people enough to bother again. Carlisle has been a medical doctor for over three hundred years."
She pauses to let that sink in.
"We are strict vegetarians, but some people appeal to us more than others . . . ."
"Appeal?"
"Appeal. It is awfully hard to explain without giving too much away. You appeal to Edward as more than just a woman he finds extremely attractive."
"Um?"
"Perhaps we should come back to that later," she snickers, "just know that Edward likes you very much and that is why a lot of what has happened, has happened. Edward doesn't like anybody, usually."
"Why not?"
"That is for him to explain, if you will let him at some point in the future. As for me, the reason that I am constantly turning up and just the right, or wrong, time in your life is because I can see the future."
"Funny, I cannot imagine you in a silk turban, operating a crystal ball."
"My gift doesn't work that way," she snaps, a little offended. "I see the consequences of decisions, or more correctly, the potential consequences. My gift works best on people I know well but it also has a useful role to play in stock market investments. Which explains why my family is so wealthy."
"Are there any other gifts?"
"Edward will tell you about his. Jasper is an empath."
"Which means?"
"The reason you feel so relaxed around him is because he can influence your emotions."
"I am not sure how I would feel about that if it were true."
"He only uses his powers for good, these days," she assures me.
"Supposing any of this is true, how does it explain whatever the hell it was that happened on Saturday night? How does it explain this?" I demand, carefully extending my dodgy arm to her.
"For that, we have to go back to Edward . . . ."