It's not happy news by any means, but for some reason, I'm more concerned about how the dogs will react than the actual loss. Carlisle looks haggard and I know he's wishing that we could drink.
"What does this mean for the pact?" I ask, sitting across from him. Esme rubs his back gently, but he shakes his head.
"Alice is talking to Jasper. We can talk about it when he's ready." Jasper had come back to tell us the news that what remained of Albion's coven had somehow managed to kill the dog called Brady. It was disquieting news as Jasper is not usually one to leave an enemy alive given his history, but from the brief moment he was home, I saw that it was a clever ambush. Two of them lead him miles away and by the time he felt Brady's anguish, it was too late. We've barely had time to eat in the last month and at that point, it was four on one, and Jasper was already exhausted and starving so he ran back. It's the running more than anything that haunts Jasper and it's his guilt and uncertainty of identity that fills all of us now, radiating throughout the house.
Momentarily, I'm reminded of the bite on Jacob Black's neck, and I wonder if grief is enough to push the dogs into a pack war. A pack war caused by my snide comments and a truth that wasn't mine to reveal. The extent of Jasper's power is incredible. It's actually making me feel bad. For dogs.
After a long moment's silence, Jasper and Alice appear at the door to Carlisle's office alongside Rosalie and Emmett. We all look like we haven't eaten in days even though we just went hunting two days ago. It's been over a month now of living like this, though admittedly, since the pact, a week ago, it's alleviated the stress on us. No human has died in a week and Albion's coven is starving. We should've seen this as a possibility.
That one fact is hardest on Alice alone-the blindness that comes with working with the dogs.
"One of us is going to have to go ensure that our pact is intact despite today's events," Carlisle says, looking at us in turn. "I've already asked Sam Uley to go to Seattle with me, so I can talk to him, but as I understand it from him, there's been some contention in the pack. We need to make sure the current and the potential leader are on the same page. Which means that someone needs to talk to Jacob Black."
"I can go. It was my fault," Jasper says. He's not sorry for the dog's death in the slightest, but he sees talking to the pack as the start of some sort of redemption for running and to regain his status in his own mind as a general of war. For the first time since meeting him, I question his judgment.
"No," Carlisle says. "I won't send you there alone on the off chance that they blame you. It'd be seven against one."
"I'll go with him," Emmett says, but Rosalie shakes her head.
"Rosalie's right. The pair of you are too threatening," Esme says, moving over to gently stroke the curly blond hair out of Jasper's eyes. Another wave of guilt and uncertainty wracks us.
"I'll go," I say, standing. "Jacob Black and I have been going on patrol together for a week. If anything, that should make this conversation easier." I leave out the fact that Jacob Black and I have had a growing distaste for one another despite the undercurrent of begrudging respect that is undoubtedly there. Everyone aside from Jasper is oblivious to it, and I'm not in a hurry to point it out. I'm already the butt of Rosalie's jokes for being single despite me being the one who rejected her all of those years ago, and I would rather not add in jibes about being a mongrel sympathizer to that arsenal.
"Very well," Carlisle agrees. "Be safe, Edward. The first sign of a threat-"
"And I'll come home," I say, not meeting Jasper's eyes.
With the exception of rare medical visits by Carlisle, we prefer not to cross into La Push land as a show of good faith for our treaty all those years ago, but with this new treaty, we've created a workaround. This is the third time I've called him since arriving on the border of their territory and the third time it's gone to voicemail.
I can smell them from miles away, the lot of them as well as I can smell the single trail that's going north to meet Carlisle.
I try to remind myself that he is probably grieving and attempt to remember what that's like. I can't. The last time I properly grieved for anyone, it was my own mother. Instead, I try again. He picks up on the fourth ring.
"What?" he snaps.
"We need to talk."
"It can wait." His voice is raw, as if he's been crying.
"It can't. The longer we leave this unclear, the more chances there are of people dying." It's a harsh way to say it, but it'll help clear his head.
The line goes dead, and after a few minutes, I'm about to try again, when an enormous russet wolf comes bounding through the forest. Jacob shifts back and I avert my gaze as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants. The lack of modesty amongst the pack is something that I'll never get accustomed to, no matter how many times I see Jacob Black disrobed. Perhaps it's the old man in me.
"What do you want?" he asks, his eyes red and swollen.
"Carlisle and Sam have gone to Seattle. I need to ensure that despite all that's happened, the pact still stands."
"Why don't you ask Sam?" he says, looking at the night sky above us as if it will keep his tears in.
"We both know that half of the pack now answers to you."
If looks could kill, Jacob's glare would take off my head and burn me to ashes. He's replaying Brady's death in his head over and over again. La Push and Seattle are far enough that individual thoughts are not clear, but feelings are and he was shifted when Brady passed. They all were. The feeling slams into me over and over again like a tidal wave, overwhelming me.
So this is grief.
"It still stands. For now," Jacob says. "If one more dies-if one more even comes close, it's off and we take out Albion and your little family." It's said in anger, and I can't blame him. After all, we were not the ones who lost someone today. He knows that it would be a tactical mistake to go after Albion all at once, but he can't help but threaten us.
Half of his pack-the Sam half-blame him for agreeing to the pact in the first place even though he and Sam had both agreed to it. I was right. It's tearing them apart. The pack is too angry to even grieve. Somehow, I feel responsible. My eyes drift to the bite mark on his neck. It's healed completely, but a faint scar remains. In an odd way, it bonds us.
"Do you…do you need a break from being around the others?" I ask.
To my surprise, Jacob laughs. It's a bitter and hollow thing. "What makes you say that?"
"It can't be easy to be both hated and loved by your family for no other reason than your blood."
Jacob snorts. "What would you know about that, leech?"
I shake my head. "I don't. But maybe a few hours away until everyone cools their tempers would be a good thing."
Jacob looks back behind him to the safety line of La Push. "Only if you drive."
It doesn't take long for me to run back home and drive my car back to La Push's border. To my surprise, Jacob waited for me, laying in the pine needles and grass, looking up at the stars. If I didn't smell him first, I would have run him over.
The house is quiet when we get home. Everyone is gone hunting and I feel my own need for blood burn in my fangs. I'll have to go after this. Something like a mountain lion can satisfy me for a week, but recently, with how busy we've been, between keeping up pretenses at school and Albion, I've only been subsiding on deer and it seems to never be enough.
"What is this place?" Jacob asks as I press the "up" button in the garage's elevator.
"My house."
"You live in a parking garage?" Jacob asks, his eyes wide. His amazement is enough for him to momentarily forget his grief-and how bad we smell to his kind.
I almost laugh as the elevator opens onto the first floor. "No. That's just the garage."
Jacob's eyes go even wider as he takes in the glass wall that overlooks the forest around Forks and the grand piano in the center of the room. "You live here ?"
"What? Did you think we lived in a castle like Dracula?"
"More like a cave." His response is honest as he runs his massive hands along the back of the deep red couch and eyes the freestanding wall of books behind the fireplace.
"You don't live as long as we do without amassing some amount of wealth."
Jacob breathes out and takes a seat on our couch. It's such a surreal movement with his large frame that I'm wondering if I've made the right call. Then I sense the pain in his mind under the discomfort, and I remember the real reason that I've brought him here.
"This place is...quiet," Jacob says.
"That's why Carlisle picked it. You can hear the forest for miles around."
"Easy to defend," he comments, but I know he's thinking of La Push and how with his new senses, he can hear everyone he loves moving through the reservation and the ocean in the background. It only drives home his loneliness. I almost have to take a seat. Never in my hundred years have I encountered someone whose loneliness rivals mine in this way. Surrounded by those we care about, but still someone utterly alone. I thought my loneliness was a result of being a monster, but I can't imagine his is caused by the same guilt.
He's wondering why I look so dumbstruck, but I don't bother hiding my expression as I sink onto the piano bench behind me.
"Believe it or not," I say a little too softly, "my family does somethings not out of strategy, but out of pleasure. We like the forest, not just to hunt, but because it occasionally allows us to forget."
Jacob laughs. "Funny enough, it's my family that doesn't allow me to forget."
"You regret what you've become?" I ask, knowing the answer.
He shakes his head. "Not in the slightest, but I do regret the conflict it's caused." After a moment, he winces and I can feel it coming. "Why did you tell me?" he asks.
I debate lying for a moment but see no point in it. "Would you believe me if I said that it was for my own entertainment?"
Jacob frowns. "It's the only thing I would believe at this point."
I should drop this, but there's a part of me that wants to confess all of it. "Before this last week, we saw you as objects to be toyed with or...annoyances that barked at our door when we have no interest in La Push."
Jacob's grief is replaced by a spike of anger. "Well, that's tough when our population and actions directly impact us." He's thinking of a boy-Seth-and then his sister who have both just undergone the change.
"I see that now."
"You know for leeches that have been around for a thousand years, you'd think you'd have developed a bit more empathy," Jacob snarls. He's annoyed. Annoyance is good. It's better than dwelling on the fissure in his pack.
"It's hard when you feel so far removed from it all," I answer. He doesn't think that's an excuse. Perhaps it isn't.
Silence fills the space between us as Jacob cools off. He's been eying the piano behind me since we entered the room, so to avoid any further conversation, I swivel to face it and absently play, the sweet notes filling the air. Jacob's face softens a bit and I know he's thinking of his mother, who used to play the keyboard. It only takes him a minute before sinking into the depth of his sorrow once again and this time, I let him. Music has a way of bringing out the most human emotions even in monsters like me. I'll grant him the same respite.
"You're good," he says after a while though it kills him to admit it. "I never thanked you the other day for saving my life," he says, unexpectedly catching me off guard. My fingers falter. "Why did you do it?"
It's as if I can feel his blood on my lips again, the pressure of his skin against mine. What an odd sensation.
"Perhaps by that point, I was beginning to see you as more than an annoyance or a toy. Perhaps it was just guilt for causing strife to be amused for a few minutes." Jacob's eyes trail down to my fingers that are gently resting on the keys. He's focusing on them so intently that it blocks out the rest of his thoughts.
"Well. Thanks. I guess." He's thinking that we're not as bad as the pack originally thought. There's a reluctant fondness there towards me for coming to save him from dealing with his family tonight.
What I say next goes against my better judgment. "What you just did with my hands, I need you to do more often," I say.
Jacob's brow furrows and there's a flash of my hands as they held him up while I sucked the venom from him. How good the coldness of my skin felt as the burning venom ran through him. And then the thought is gone, replaced by disdain and then confusion.
"What are you talking about?"
"Some of my kind have abilities that go beyond the usually vampiric aspects. For example, I know that you were thinking of how good my hands felt on you because of the feverishness in your body from the venom. Now you're confused, embarrassed, and a little outraged at a breach of your privacy. Trust me, if I could control it I would."
"You're a mind-reader," Jacob says, his mouth hanging slightly open. "Are all of you-"
"No. Your graphic thoughts about Rosalie are safe with me." I make no mention of his rare but fleeting confused thoughts about Jasper or his fixation with my hands. I can feel the heat radiating off of him from his embarrassment from across the room.
"This is bullshit," he says, standing. "How in the world am I supposed to work with you if you can read my thoughts?"
"Carlisle often constantly thinks of medical textbooks as a shield. If you can find a shield, I don't think anything has to change." Even as I say it, I know it can't be done. Jacob Black is an open book and always will be.
"Can you read my mind when-"
"Yes. When you're shifted, I can read the minds of all of you."
"So when Brady-"
"Yes."
Jacob looks away, trying to hide the tears in his eyes and the anguish of the whole pack hits me once again.
"That's why you brought me here. That's how you've known." Suddenly, he laughs. "Who would have thought that bloodsuckers could grow hearts?"
Despite the slur, his sadness does something to me. I don't like to see it almost as much as I don't like to see any one of my family upset. It's been a long time since I've had this feeling towards anyone that wasn't part of Carlisle's coven. Is this what isolation does? Drives the emotions of the first creature I connect with outside my own straight into my undead heart? I feel nothing except maybe jealousy when humans cry or even when they die, really, but for some odd reason, a few patrols to Seattle with Jacob Black and I don't want to ever see him grieve again.
"Certainly not me," I say.
"I should go home," Jacob says, trying very hard to think of every object in the room to hide his thoughts. He's very bad at it. It's almost endearing.
"The house remains open to you and your pack if you need it," I say, unsure if it's true. After all, it is Carlisle's house.
Jacob gives me an odd look-one of real appreciation-before leaving me to dissect what on the devil's green earth motivated me to extend a hand that far out to Ephraim Black's heir tonight.