| The Human Condition |
Chapter XIX: Cruising for Bruises
"When you're not looking, somebody'll
sneak up and write 'Fuck you' right under
your nose."
The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger
RETURNING TO NORMAL was fucking hard.
There was this gap. It wasn't in my heart or my head or anywhere really, so maybe I was imagining things to make readjusting harder than it was. But if it had a place, it was as a ghost: unable to be seen or heard but felt all the same. The way anyone felt when the sun disappeared and their shadow did too, Dakota left and the memory of him stayed; unshakable paranoia followed me everywhere and little itchy kisses traced all over my body as I continued life. Dakota left me like that, wondering where he'd gone, when any trace of him would leave permanently.
It made me think about freshman year and all the shitty finals in May. The first week after school let out, I couldn't cope. I woke up thinking about Mrs. Myers's presentation on objects used to communicate with in the 1800s due on Wednesday, realizing after I stared unblinkingly up at the ceiling for prolonged minutes that it was actually due last Wednesday. It was an unending cycle that only ceased when the midway point in summer arrived and I immersed myself in pool days and movie marathons.
This was like that. Dakota had only really been around for two or so weeks, yet he had a massive impact, leaving no stone in my life unturned. Every soul he touched was rattled, even Sam who I used to think was as stoic as a rock. My dumb past self (who died just last month, God rest her soul) took to thinking she was fearless and had nothing that scared her to a state of poop-your-pants terror, but nothing was scarier than the photogenic face of nightmares reappearing in reality. Well, besides reality being a stimulation, but that was an irrational phobia for another time. Right now, I just wanted his phantom to disappear along with the bad memories that accompanied it. He didn't know a thing about the Hell he put any of us through, ancestors included; we all had to brace the fall in his wake, yet his footsteps never faltered a bit. There was a chip in his step, of all things. He was happily cozied up in Seattle with Roman, set to join in his traveling magic business and be taught about the strange set-up of modern-day technology. Fucker.
Yeah. Fucker. My little slip of character back three days ago still provoked me. I should have let Sam kill him, instead of letting Taha Aki strip his bad energy and leave him a flexible shell. If Roman couldn't keep him on a leash, it wouldn't be long before the Volturi got another hand on him and we were back where we started. Boom, butterfly effect—except in reverse.
I was probably the only one of the friends and fans experiencing a gap. If anyone faced his final attack the hardest, it was me. And I'd never had anything like it. I was used to battles that came in the shape of my father's terrible sense of humor (he was dryer than a Californian drought) and Jared's douche tendencies. Jacob was a war all on its own, what with his lifelong hatred of me (And for what? Probably the mud I stuffed down his pants after he wouldn't stop throwing mud-pies to impress Bella Swan...). Kallie hadn't talked to me since I got dragged into the woods by Dakota; I saw her at school and everything, but she really, really begrudged me for whatever I said so she'd just go about her day ignoring me. In Art, she paired up with Erica for our mid-semester portrait project. Erica! Mouthy freshman numero uno! I had to admit, I was offended. It caused me dubious amounts of hurt. I wanted to immediately march over there and demand she forgo the petty act and act like a grown-up, handle things like a grown-up, but hey. If she wanted to turn a blind eye to how I almost died, she could be my fucking guest. I'd make sure to let Embry know he was crushing on Jacob's double. Maybe it'd convince him to go after someone a little less of a Paris Hilton.
There, I said it. Embry reciprocated her feelings. It was like Kim and Jared all over again, and I mean just like. It was vomit-inducing all the way around. Barf.
Sure, Paul and I were boyfriend and girlfriend... we made eyes at each other occasionally... we made out in my Dad's car... but no way in Hell did either of us fawn over the other and lose all concentration for the world around us. Maybe with our tongues down each other's throats we felt like it, but then the feeding frenzy ended and all the glitz and glamor of a The Notebook romance faded with the lust.
Ah-ha—average thoughts of a teenager! Thank God, I was beginning to think nothing would ever feel the same.
Normal. What a funny thing. Was anything normal or did I confuse the word with "usual?"
There were things I tried to forget in the aftermath. Dad woke up about twenty-six hours after Roman and Dakota left, and he didn't want to speak to anyone, strangely enough. He refused to see me or Jared. His own children! The only one allowed in the room was Sue, and Dad specified that anything they discussed—if anything—be between the two of them. I didn't know exactly what crawled up his ass and died, unless it was some freaky side effect from being saved by what felt like voodoo magic. Taha Aki said to ask Dad about what they did to take away Dakota's memories, but the man himself didn't want anything to do with anyone at the moment—and Taha Aki was gone. Gone like a corpse buried six feet deep twice over. I couldn't ask him whatever I needed to know, the things incapacitated Richard Cameron probably wouldn't tell me until the day I died if even then, and he wouldn't be able to train me. Neither of them would. I was worried that this would end up the worst possible way it could, and I'd never be trained; instead, I'd just have powers that made their appearance only when I was seething or terrified. If we had more feats to conquer, what exact use would I be?
Who else could I even turn to? Taha Aki was the only spirit I'd ever talked to, aside from that gibberish-speaking woman outside Pic-Pac. She... felt more like an illusion than an actual ancestral spirit, though.
I was fed up, done and dusted. I tried not thinking about the pressing matters. I turned my attention to stupid things I fussed about before any of this even happened. Jared this to Paul that and that assignment on the Pythagorean theorem due Thursday to my room needing a deep clean pronto. I wanted a return to normalcy. The supernatural shit would stay like it was, with me and my only family all out of the ordinary in some way or another, but at least I could feel safe or maybe have some sense of humanity returned to me. I wasn't a wolf, but I was part of the pack now. Someday they expected me to be a full-timer, running the Archives and utilizing my knowledge to keep pack territory safe.
If Dad committed to teaching me how to use my powers correctly, I'd never be able to leave. And expectations were never my strong suit in meeting.
It had been three days since I was bitten and Dad had his chest crushed. The days felt longer than ever, minutes feeling like hours and hours like days. I spent my time in the evenings either in my room reading and working on homework or outside doing whatever the weather permitted. Paul was always on patrol, sometimes at Emily's. I didn't want to really go anywhere. It wasn't the inherent fear that a new force was coming to inherit Dakota's spot in terrorizing me, but it was something similar; I didn't want to be anywhere that was outside my comfort zone. It was a new development. An annoying development. It made me cling to what I knew and hate the unfamiliar
Here I was, three days later, somewhere different and with someone who felt safe.
I swung my legs back and forth. "What kind of couple are we?" I asked, looking over at the temperamental wolf accompanying me.
We were "stranded" in the woods on another night of never-ending patrol, and the only reason I was here was to unhelpfully oblige Paul's indirect request that I misdirect him from his duties. Paul had begged me to go home so neither of us would catch the end of Sam's tirade for fun and games during patrol, but I assured him that Sam didn't scare me. I was telling the truth; he didn't scare me. But he did intimidate me. Thank God the Alpha command didn't work on non-shifters, otherwise I'd probably cower when he did inevitably yell at me. He was like top dog in a breed-circle-gang, befit with a cigar and a deeper-than-average voice. All it'd take was a spiked collar to send me scampering for a tree.
I asked Paul my question seriously. In the midst of committing a self-done exorcism against Dakota's demons living inside me, I also thought about the different dumb teenager things in my life, one of which was relationships. Kim and Jared were the sappy, PG-13 rated couple no one wanted to be around when they were together. Kallie and Embry, when they eventually got together, would be similar, but they'd be a little more sappy, a little less slobber-prone. Emily and Sam were your average domestic couple that still liked a little PDA every now and then. Paul and I were the suave, cool-kids couple cult lovers saw in movies like True Romance and Heathers. Conveniently both had Christian Slater the male lead. Paul was not as naturally charming, but he did have a lusty appeal that could swoon ladies to death, so... were they drastically different? Not at all.
Stop. Why do you think so much?
Ah, the implied "Stupid dumbass" from my sub-conscience. I almost missed having it said straight to my sub-face.
"Well?" I pressed, displeased when Paul hadn't said a thing.
Paul stretched his arms back with a sigh, crossing them behind his head in an x-shape. The line of his sleeveless shirt rose up, exposing the line of hair that ran down—
Dear Jesus, Mary, Joseph, the sheep, and the fucking manger, please give me strength in this time of dark, unheavenly thoughts. And how are you seeing this in the dark? Are you that much of a fucking pervert that you have natural night vision?
I quickly turned my gaze, deadpanning my face so as to avoid suspicion. Perhaps Paul saw me, with his heightened wolf vision, but denial was every girl's best friend.
"We're a couple," he said smoothly, ignoring my less-than-subtle eyeballing. A glory of deadpan words, mushed together to gift me a Paul-saturated remark. Urgh. I both loathed and adored it.
"When I ask for a kind, you give a kind. What, if I ask for your favorite cake, you'll say, 'Cake?'" I rolled my eyes. When I cut my eyes back, cleansed of his v-line, Paul had a clueless look adorning his face. I rolled my eyes again. "Of course you would. You're lucky you're attractive. That dumbassery of yours will only be cute for as long as your face is."
Paul smirked. "I'll be the local nursing home's eye candy," he boasted to me, adjusting himself against the oak tree behind his back. We were swinging our legs on a dislodged log, and the log hung against another tree. "Guess that means I'll never lose my cute face."
What a dunce.
I made a face. It was ugly, and it kind of looked like James Franco's smile—if his smile was a clumsy grimace. It looked good on a man of his facial dimensions, but on a girl who could easily pass for a Gremlin, it was... unnatural, to say the least.
Paul didn't comment on the atrocity I just allowed, and I, a warrior, said insistently, "If you won't say it, I will. We're the cool couple. I'm funny, you're a dog-bone away from running out with the Cocker Spaniel down the road, we're dysfunctional to say the least, but at least we're exciting." I scowled. The petulant side of me unleashed. "No one wants to watch Jared and Kim rub noses for the fifteenth time in an hour and huddle close on the couch watching stupid-ass zombie movies—"
"Whoa, Cocker Spaniel?" Paul released his arms, a bone cracking at the movement, and one went straight towards me, his big hand grasping onto my shoulder. He made his own face, this one visibly less ugly. "When did you start making dog puns? Wait—who's the Cocker Spaniel?"
Photogenic assholes piss me off, I thought angrily, ignoring whatever he just said. I roughly shouldered his hand away. "Take your photogenic face and whack it into a tree."
Instead of doing as I asked, Paul brought my head into a noogie.
"Hey—what the Hell, Paul; cut it out!" I felt whatever witty remarks I had at the base of my throat die completely out, ruining the train I had going of "funny things Alissa recommends you say" cut-out cards. The noogie took the humor and turned it into a thirty-second treat to alien audiences across the galaxy watching of Alissa Cameron, disintegrated, beaten, degraded, abused at the monstrous hands of her treacherous lover. Death by noggin-rub. Heh, noogie, noggin, was I just realizing this now? Ahem. Oh, the horror— "I hate you, Paul. I despise you. I want to laser-shoot you into the next galaxy—not world, galaxy. I want to make donuts out of your intestines. Stop rubbing so hard, you oaf—"
"Sorry, what was that? 'Rub so hard, I choke?'" I could hear the laughter in Paul's voice, the unhidden grin. He was enjoying my misery, as all traitors did when they stabbed a knife through the back of someone who put enough trust in them to kill a hog. "Speak up, Lissy, I can't hear you."
I scowled, imagining his head on a spike. Sometimes he was a treasure, sometimes he felt like back acne. I was two short seconds away from kicking him off this log and watching his descent to the forest floor. I'd laugh, of course, and envision the fall to be much longer, just so I could avoid the disappointed reminders of his wolf powers, to take a while longer in reveling in his pain. My current pain was deserving of revenge. I fucking hated getting my scalp touched, and it put a special brand of poison in my heart having the touch tug.
"I can't believe I ever made out with you, you're like a child," I said angrily, thrashing under his grip. Eventually, after one of my elbows dug into his gut, he released me and I finally got to recover, my scalp burning against the fluttery touches I applied to it. I deepened my scowl. Painful, yes—vital to my anger, also yes. "That's like kissing a six-year-old. God. I don't think I'll kiss you again for another twelve years."
"Jared was right," he mused, not even reacting to my threats. Well, the way I wanted him to react.
I eyed him for a moment, trying to dissect his body language for the answer. "About what?"
"We're imprints because we both have anger issues," Paul said without missing a beat.
I frowned.
There was that word again—imprints. For a while I wasn't exactly sure what they were. Jared had mentioned that's what Paul and I were back during our bedside conversation, but I didn't really think on it. I didn't think on it the week after that, and sometimes it briefly rang a bell in my mind but I always got distracted by other pressing things so "imprints" got pushed to the back of my priorities. Paul saying it now brought all the questions and confusion to the surface. Imprints had to be something relevant to shifting, otherwise what could they even be? An inside joke?
At previous bonfires I remembered their mention. Dad even said when I was younger that imprinting was like love with a foundation to build it off. So thinking that over now, it wouldn't exactly surprise me if an "imprint" was just a fancy animal word for "soul mate." And since Paul had yet to dump me, it was safe to bet I was his imprint exactly like Jared said. Obviously. I wasn't an idiot.
"Oh, the wolf soul mate thing?" I nodded my head along, previous rage forgotten. "Makes sense. Who the fuck else would deal with you when you're a hot second from going ballistic?"
Paul seemed to think about it. "I'm sure there's some girls who'd be down," he said, shrugging when I shot him my best "Are you serious?" expression.
"If we're talking for longer than a week, believe me, I'm the only one," I said. "You being attractive only puts enough patience in one person."
Paul smirked. "I appreciate the compliment."
"Sorry, here, I'm not a big fan of that smirk." I put on a lightbulb-inspired smile. "You have a big head and I hate your fashion sense."
"Can't hate something I don't have," Paul said, not losing that smirk. "I have a great sense of your weak spots."
To prove his point, he reached out and pressed his fingers into my armpits. I was immediately hit with a spasm. I dramatically flailed backward, yelping at the contact, and almost fell off if it wasn't for that same fucking hand yanking me into its owner's naked chest.
Paul was laughing. I hit him hard in the shoulder.
"I wish I did fall," I told him sweetly, the sweetness marinated in anger. "Your guilt tastes like the blood of innocents."
"You sound like a fucking leech," Paul said, disgust written on his face.
"Just the persona I was shooting for. Thanks for confirming."
Paul's frown lines got even more prominent. I just smiled. Smiled, smiled, smiled. His discomfort was all I needed.
My head rang with endless possibilities of thoughts to dwell on and bring to the conversational table in light of almost falling to my doom. I perked up.
"My bite's getting better," I told him, reaching up to pull down the black long-sleeve I was wearing. He didn't ask for it, but here was a visual anyway. I brought the collar down to my elbow, astounded by the stretchy quality of my shirt. I glanced up to see if Paul was looking where I wanted him to, and a brief feeling of satisfaction hit me when he was. "See?"
Paul had a dark look on his face. He got closer, examining the wound. His hands twitched like he wanted to reach forward and grope at my shoulder, but he held back. I was glad for it. Sure, I liked him touching me, but not where a vampire put his mouth on me. Soap had done its justice in removing anything to hint a vampire had his way, but still.
I impatiently stared at him.
Paul's nose scrunched up. "You shouldn't have stopped Sam from killing him," he said.
Expected response. I shrugged. "Well, I didn't. He's gone anyway. Why does it matter?"
"The only good leech is a dead leech," Paul said, an unreadable stare in place. I was so good at reading him, too-why was he hiding himself from me now? I frowned. "If he comes back through here, he's free game."
"Yeah, okay," I said dismissively. "I hate him as much as the next person, but hey, as long as he's out of my sight I'm good to live and let live."
Maybe he'd stay in my thoughts for a while, but that didn't mean it was impossible to move on. Or...
So I told myself.
My thoughts drifted again. My fingers loosened, the collar flicking back enough to meet my neck. I ignored Paul and only partially heard his disdain-dripped words. I went back to sending Dakota off.
THREE DAYS EARLIER
I felt empty.
My heart was heavy, like a great force was pressing it into my ribs. I watched Embry's bear-like figure disappear into the distance, taking Sue and Dad's unconscious body with him. I knew it was pathetic, watching instead of going with or sobering up from my tear-fest, but I still pictured myself knees on the ground, hovering over a chest cavity that looked like a blood-soaked whirlpool. If it were any other day in the office, I'd think none of this was real. All a figment of my imagination sent to torture me for whatever fucked up reason. Maybe it was Dakota, maybe it was a punishment from God. That's what I'd think—the how and the why. I wouldn't picture any of it possible. My cheeks were still wet from tears. I almost felt like I could choke on them, same with my mucus.
I felt crazy. After Dad was gone, the reality of his grievous fate was too. There wasn't any blood left on the muck, and if there was it was too minute to notice. A time warp enveloped me. Plugs of air cottoned my ears. Every little detail that could indicate a terrible trauma most heinous went unnoticed, all too real and too fresh to not leave marks. I wasn't an emotional person, at least when it came to tears. When I cried I cried in secret. When I grieved I grieved angrily or I grieved alone. I wasn't some sap. My sensitivity only came in red. Here and now, I wanted to forget what happened.
I wanted to swallow my tears and let my face return to tan, leaving no room for anyone to question my stability.
"Where are we, Roman?" asked Dakota, just feet behind me. I twitched—I knew it did, because I stiffened, and when I stiffened I made little jerks of movement too—and listened in. For the little time I was wrapped up in my own problems I forgot where I was. The life-threatening injury Dad sustained didn't have a cause, just an effect, and that all laid down to me turning into an absentminded crybaby as he was hauled away. I dug my nails into the denim of my jeans—enough that I could feel them on my skin. "It looks familiar, but this is nothing like Montreal..."
I blinked. In Dakota's memories, it was never specified where exactly he was—but it was obvious he was somewhere in Canada. He was quite a ways from home when he met Roman. That was intriguing. Something, anyway. I wanted to hit him so fucking hard his head fell off. For me, my Dad, my Grandpa, and every other person in our line he tormented. Pitying him... was something an idiot heroine would do if she was looking for trouble further down the line.
Montreal, though. Huh.
Roman, taking on a paternal tone, said, "You grew up around here, Dakota. You remember—right?"
Dakota didn't answer. I turned around.
Roman was holding Dakota to him, one of his hands pushing the younger vampire's head down into his shoulder. Vampires weren't emotive creatures, but Dakota looked sick. He looked tormented, but there wasn't anything around to hurt him with. It was all coming from the inside, apparently.
I scowled. I wished that the cotton feeling had stayed so I could have avoided them for the rest of their being here. I didn't have to be the one sending them off. It wasn't my job. Handling vampires was a task better left for Sam, or Dad. Neither were here, though. Before Embry left to take Dad to Sue's house for her to do a medical check-up to make sure his vitals were all up and running right, Jared and Sam left for a scan of the area just to be cautious. Paul stayed here to keep me company but I hadn't noticed him much. Dakota was in a state of disarray and Roman wouldn't leave until his partner was done with the mental breakdown routine and stutter-y shtick. I didn't want to see them off.
"I'd—I would like to return back home. I don't feel like myself, Rome." Dakota was visibly distressed, clinging to Roman like he was his lifeline. It made me sick to my stomach seeing it. Someone who not just thirty minutes ago was trying to kill both me and my father, reduced to a blubbering child. How was it even possible? I almost missed the terrifying immortal who would stop at nothing to obtain the approval of his superiors. At least he kept my mind alert. There was no pity for someone who knew his purpose.
"We'll be home soon," Roman assured him. "You'll need to adjust to this world. You... you've lost a lot of your memory, Dakota."
Dakota was silent. I glowered at him until he said, "My head feels hollow."
I felt like seething. Or throwing something. Or attacking with just my fists. Anything, really, that would maim. Pitying him, it again felt out of my comprehension. The only sensible reaction to hearing him speak was to make him feel worse than he already did. He deserved it, even if he didn't realize it. He'd understand someday.
"Will you just fucking leave already?" I said furiously, scowl sharpening into a lethal snarl when they both looked over. "You can reenact Romeo and Juliet in the car."
Dakota frowned. "A—car?"
I gestured at him, ignoring the footsteps behind me. My eyes located and locked onto their mark: Roman. "You must feel pretty pedophiliac now. Your boyfriend's a child!" Hands pulled me back as I pushed forward, turning a simple action into an all-out war. "Get off, Paul—I'm not going to kill anybody. I couldn't even if I tried."
"I don't trust leeches," Paul said pointedly. He didn't have to say it twice—out of all the wolves, he was probably the most verbal about his hatred of vampires. They all, to some degree, didn't like the opposite species to which they were designed to kill, but Paul? He was a whole other level of "vampire hate." His was near-consuming.
"Okay, whatever," I said. I glared at Dakota, watching his face—pale like the fucking moon—turn meek. "When you leave, make sure you don't come back. Your mug looks like a target, and I can't decide which of your eyes is the bullseye."
"I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry," Dakota said, pushing closer into Roman. Roman looked torn, like he couldn't decide whether to counsel Dakota or stand in as a buffer. I wouldn't blame him for taking care of Dakota and treating him as the person he knew before; love made wise men into fools. It could turn sandcastles into coliseums. It had unexplainable power. Watching Roman with Dakota was enough say to that, and he wasn't even human. He was a two-centuries-old vampire. He felt love all the same. I blamed Dakota for everything and wouldn't stoop low enough to turn that hate on an innocent person to it all. I'd done it to Paul when Jared decided to be a dickhead, and I regretted making him feel bad to feel better myself. I had a rage that burned like an inferno, urging me to act now, bear the consequences later. I wanted to maim Dakota, unleash my anger on him, verbally abuse him, all of it. But I knew what's done was done, and I couldn't back out on what Roman wanted. He saved me from turning into one of them, and Dakota would be gone forever once they left, so what was a little more time spent brewing in my anger? It'd go away eventually, like pain usually did.
"You should be sorry," I said. Once he and Roman departed for Seattle, they didn't plan on returning. Roman would probably recruit him for his traveling magic show, and I wouldn't blame him for that either. Two vampires, one who could create illusions and another who could manipulate your thoughts, would make for an amazing team tricking idiots into thinking bunnies miraculously conjured from hats.
Dakota frowned. "I- I can't seem to remember you... have we met?"
"Oh, we know each other well," I said. I wished he could remember. He wouldn't have felt terrible if he were still in his present-day conscience so maybe that wouldn't be the best idea, yet I liked thinking about him having morals and regrets. I knew he felt something, even if he pushed that something away to feel a new something completely opposite. He was a terrible excuse for an organism, confusing as a Franken-dessert. God, I fucking hated him.
I hated him so much that I couldn't stop thinking about how much I hated him. If Paul's hatred for vampires as a species was all-consuming, mine for Dakota made me feel like a witch at a stake—like I was burning and everything around me was on fire, too. Flames crawling all over my skin, licking and lapping at me like pups. Hanging off me like ornaments.
Leave, I thought. We'd all get what we wanted if he just fucking left.
"Roman, just take him. Find your car and bring him somewhere that isn't here," I said. Roman startled. Apology, written in his eyes. He felt sorry for everything. If I were the worst possible kind of person, I would have blamed him for everything. I didn't, though, and probably never would. To some extent I felt terrible for being rude to Dakota in his current state. He was fucking clueless. But the face and body hadn't changed so with them I only knew what his previous conscience had put me through.
Leave, leave, leave.
Leave.
Leave.
Fucking go.
Don't return.
"I can't remember a thing. For that, I apologize. I apologize for anything I've done that's now out mind," Dakota said, speaking in place of Roman. "I hope you can find it in you to forgive me."
Pretty words from perfect, indestructible marble that passed for human. I wasn't naïve enough to think they were anything more than a way to put me off guard—even from a conscience that didn't know two-centuries worth of inflicting misery on others. Vampires were designed to be shells of conscience, though, weren't they? So maybe he wasn't so different, comparing then to now.
"Roman," I said, ignoring him.
Roman came forward, releasing the arms he had around Dakota. "Alissa, I am sorry for everything. I am. You should know I never thought he'd be who he was, and I was one of the many victims to his misdirection. Yes, I put the delusions of a grander life, but I am as much a casualty as I am to blame. I'll regret it for the rest of my life."
"I'm not a forgiver, Roman," I said. My anger wasn't misplaced or exaggerated. I'd probably feel anger like Roman did regret until the day I died. It wasn't the prettiest feeling. "It's hard for me to overlook mistakes. It's fucking impossible at times. Dakota... I will never forgive him. I don't care if he turns a new leaf. The shit he put me through will stay with me for longer than I'd like it to, maybe even forever. Am I supposed to pity a monster?"
"I'm going to change him," Roman said, and Dakota behind his bulky figure looked puzzled, like he was trying to decode our words and figure out the worst case scenario for his wrongdoings. He didn't understand what he did. "It's far easier now than having him unlearn the Volturi's teachings. I'll show him the life I have among mortals... We'll be magicians together."
He smiled and winked. I liked Roman and didn't want him to resent me, but reciprocating a gesture meant to lighten the mood didn't feel like the right approach. For my sake, anyway.
I crossed my arms and continued frowning. "You can try but you can't force anyone to be something they're not."
Roman sighed, dropping the optimistic act. "You say that, but the Volturi is notoriously known for getting into heads. Dakota was treated like a dog by them. Dogs, regardless of how terribly treated they are, would do anything to please their owners, wouldn't they? Perhaps to avoid punishment, perhaps to be in the owner's favor. The Volturi knows how to lurk underneath skin and keep a tight leash."
I understood what he was saying, and part of me did somewhat regret seeing only from my point of view. It wasn't impossible to think Dakota had two sides to him, the merciful dreamer and the monster the Volturi made him to be. His past was not a very happy one. His father was disappointed when he reached maturity and had powers nothing like his ancestors before him. It meant he couldn't be the tribe's emissary. Without being able to communicate with the spirits, it made him useless to the tribe's needs; I understood why he left. Then his Dad died and his Mom hated him. The emissary gift had to be transferred to a new family by the spirits, Dakota's uncle's little girl, Nakita.
I hated him with all my might but I wasn't blind to what he went through to be who he was. If I wanted to play psychologist, I could infer that his need to please and his subservient behavior came from never being enough for anyone. Even Roman, who had the best of intentions, didn't realize he was pushing Dakota away until he put him in a new prison and Dakota fled.
Never being enough... That had to be the root of his problem. If killing him couldn't happen, at least maybe Roman could right his misguided intentions through a redo. I hoped for his sake the redo would be effective. If it wasn't, even I couldn't stop the guys from doing what they did best.
I decided to trust Roman. It took three and a half leaps—but I got there.
"Okay, you're right," I said, and Roman wasn't expecting agreeable terms apparently. His mouth popped open like he wanted to object, but the words were glued at the roof of his throat. "You know more about him than I do. I hate him and I think he's a dick, but maybe you can make him into a good Samaritan. You saved me and I owe you this much."
Roman looked visibly relieved. I felt Paul's grip tighten on my shoulders. I realized, with a jolt, that Paul's hand was touching where I'd been bitten. The teeth marks were a texture not built into the skin, so of course—of fucking course—he'd know something was amiss. He wouldn't comment on it until the vampires were gone, though.
I swallowed, trying to focus on Roman.
"I appreciate it more than you know, Alissa," he said, moving forward like he intended to hug me. Paul's grip tightened almost to the point it was painful. A growl, burrowed in his chest, sounded, rumbling against the back of my neck and my shoulder-blades. Roman stopped. "Ah, sorry... You may not realize it, but you're a good person. I envision bright things in your future."
I scoffed. Good person? Never heard that one before. "Too bad your gift's to fuck with people and not to see futures," I said. "Thanks for the vote of confidence in Fate, though."
Roman shook his head, the ghost of gratitude still echoing in his eyes. "You'll need a vote of confidence yourself," he said smilingly. "Otherwise, how will things get better?"
He should have been a therapist instead of a magician.
I wriggled from Paul's arms and went forward to Roman, letting him envelope me in a hug. He didn't feel like what I thought he would. His touch was cold, what was usual for vampires, yet he also had a warmth. He was gentle. And he smelled earthy, confusing my senses to the brink of comatose. I really enjoyed hugging him. When he pulled from the embrace, I put on a small smile. I pretended like Dakota wasn't standing and looking a right fool behind his back.
"You're a good person-vampire-thing, too, Roman," I said. "Thanks for coming. My Dad's not here to thank you, so..."
"My pleasure," Roman said. "Give your father my own personal thanks for giving Dakota another chance at a merciful existence."
"I will," I said. He didn't move away so I stared, bracing myself.
He dug into his pocket. Out came a silver chain with a wooden token loosely hanging off the end. I went back to staring, except it was at the strange artifact in front of me.
Roman's smile was soft. " I think it'd be good to stay in one area until Dakota gets a decent grasp on his new reality, so we'll be in Seattle for the foreseeable future. If you find yourself there in the next year or so, I'd love you to attend one of my shows. This is my personal guest pass I give to any comrades I find myself inviting. My security detail know the appearance and won't give you any trouble, should you decide to come."
I marveled at the necklace, looking to Roman for permission before I reached out, grabbing it by the chain. My other hand held up the token. The chain was sleek and clean, and the wooden token was painted white. It had the image of two hands tilting like Yin and Yang with a tiny mask in the middle. It was gorgeous. I looked back up, unable to think of words to say.
"It's the least I can do," he said, continuing to smile. I truly didn't know vampires could sound and be so human. It was unnatural. It went against order. But I liked it coming from Roman. Maybe it was because I knew he wouldn't ever harm me. "Keep being good, Alissa."
I wasn't good, but I internally preened at his compliment so I kept quiet. I watched him turn and head back to Dakota. He did a second turn facing me to give a farewell thumbs-up.
I returned it, forcing a smile. The chain was gripped tight in my hand.
"We're going to Seattle, Dakota. I haven't been in Montreal in decades," Roman told Dakota quietly, like Dakota hadn't heard everything we said to each other. "Come on, if we go now we can make it there by nightfall."
"Okay," Dakota said softly.
I watched them shoot off into the trees, disappearing like bullets.
Huh. When the day started, I didn't think this was how it'd go. At least it was all over.
Now it was time to watch Paul explode after seeing the bite on my shoulder…
NOW
"Alissa?" Paul poked me in the cheek. I startled, barely taking a chance to process my situation before swatting his hand away. "Oh, you're alive."
"Yeah, I'm alive, dipshit," I snapped. Instantly, I was hit with guilt. Being poked was annoying, but it wasn't like he had razor-sharp nails. "Fuck, sorry. I was thinking."
Paul didn't look angry, so I took that for a good sign. "Yeah, I can see that," he said. "You take a trip to loony-town?"
God, he made it hard to be nice sometimes. "You're hilarious," I deadpanned. I looked up into the sky and realized just how late it was getting; Embry would be coming to relieve Paul from patrolling soon. Paul noticed my attention divert and even he straightened. "Anyway, I should probably get home before Mr. Uley realizes how bad an influence I am."
"Not by yourself," Paul said, no room for an argument.
I bit down on my lip to avoid running my jaw again. "Of course, no room for distressed damsels in these parts." Paul hopped off the log, landing effortlessly on his bare feet. He was dressed down into a pair of brown cargo shorts, looking like he was off an Old Navy ad. His arms were held out, bracing for my weight, and I didn't let him wait too long before free falling into him.
Ouch. I hit my chin on his shoulder. It would definitely leave a bruise.
"You and those stupid vampires have one thing in common; hitting you hurts like Hell," I said painfully, letting the curses run wild in my head. Paul's chuckle afterwards vibrated through me. He put me down onto my own two feet and I cracked my jaw, rubbing my chin like a mischievous villain would his goatee. The uncle from Ella Enchanted, perhaps? "Alrighty, I'm ready to rock and roll."
Paul laughed, putting his arm around my shoulder. We were just twenty or so minutes away from my house. We could have used Paul's wolf form to get there faster but he preferred being able to speak when we were together. I shared the sentiment. How else could we swap wit?
If what was true about the shifters not being able to hide their thoughts from each other while in wolf form, Sam would definitely know I helped Paul slack during his patrol duties. We'd be in for one hell of a verbal wallop. Paul usually just reserved our time together for at school or for at night when he sneaked into my bed instead of his own. All three days had been the same. I expected tonight wouldn't be any different.
Sam would eat us alive, but at least it wasn't for naught.
Totally worth it.
I dreamed about buzzing...
There was something near me, under me that wasn't making any real sound, only heard by its insistent vibrations. It was on another something, creating enough pressure against it to jump and make a call for attention. I was surrounded by darkness, unable to see a thing. The buzz wouldn't stop, and after it buzzed and buzzed and buzzed, I couldn't take it anymore so I thought about it going away.
It went away.
Then it started again.
"Ugh," I grumbled in annoyance, and I was startled to hear my own voice. I shifted, feeling sheets under me, a mattress that was tolerably uncomfortable. I unleashed another grumble at the buzzing. Once unable to do a thing to see, I popped open an eye, startling again upon the threads of moonlight. Huh... the buzzing stopped then started again, becoming a cycle. It wasn't a dream.
I turned over onto my left side, reaching blindly, clumsily over to my nightstand. I nearly toppled over the lamp and water bottle I had sitting there in my tries at finding the source of the buzzing, but luck was on my side and nothing fell.
I grabbed my phone, locking my fingers in place. The sounds stopped, replaced by a feeling.
I pressed the button that had a green telephone on it, feeling the vibrations now stop. A new sound emerged, crackling.
"Hello?" I said drowsily into the receiver.
Breathing was heard on the other line, like panting. "Hey," the person said, and I placed an identity quickly. Paul.
I blinked, looking over my shoulder at the window. It was dark as fuck outside. "Why are you calling me right now? What—what time even is it?"
"Two," he said. Yeah, two—I was about two seconds away from hanging up and going back to sleep. "Hey, before you hang up, I actually called for something important."
Ah, he knew me well. "Alright, what's this so-called important thing?"
"Jacob just shifted," was all he said.
Ugh.
"Okay, yeah, we all knew this day was coming," I said dramatically. "What's so grand about it that you had to call me? Are we throwing him a party? I can assure you, I won't attend."
"We won't be at school tomorrow," he said, and I quickly thought of who he meant by "we." Him, Embry, Jared, and Jacob, obviously. "We're taking him to Emily's after he changes back to talk things through."
I felt like laughing. "Don't bring him inside," I warned, a snicker making the breath wheeze out of my nostrils. "He's going to throw the biggest bitch fit in the history of bitch fits when you tell him about the Cullens, I'm calling it."
Paul laughed himself. "I've gotta go," he said reluctantly. "Sorry you'll be alone. Jared says Kim would be more than happy to sit with you at lunch."
I hummed. Kim was... not a strong enough personality. But hey, it'd beat sitting alone with only my thoughts for company. The library was only so fun before it became nauseatingly repetitive—and quiet.
After a beat of incoherent static on his end, Paul said, "Sam might allow you to come over to Emily's after everything, but I doubt it. He knows you and Black hate each other. And he thinks I'll shift if he says something around you I don't like, or you'll say something that sets Black off."
"I know when to keep my mouth shut," I said through a yawn. "Okay, maybe not. Definitely not. I'm not a changed woman yet. Not to mention you still have some kinks in your temper to work out."
"Black will set us both off and we'll destroy Sam's house," he said, and we both laughed. Paul then sighed in frustration. "I really gotta go."
"Yeah, before Sam bites your head off. He's already gonna kill you when he figures out you spent half your patrol goofing off with me," I said, almost hearing his inner panic. Sam could be terrifying when he was angry, though his intimidation mostly just unsettled me. "Have fun with Mr. Black."
"I will," Paul said sarcastically. "I always enjoy his company."
"Night, Paulie LaHottie." Another yawn escaped me, enveloping my entire frame.
"Goodnight, Lis."
The dial tone hit, and I realized through my tired stupor that we had yet to tell each other, "I love you." Why hadn't we?
I couldn't think about it. I was way too exhausted and knew undoubtedly going down that road would only make sleeping that much harder. I wanted to sleep while I could so I wouldn't overdo it and end up missing a class. Art, my favorite. Dad wasn't here to make sure I was awake and neither was Jared.
I closed my eyes, letting my hand that held the tiny little Motorola hang limp.
Sleep overcame me easily.
"Fucking Mr. Meadows and his stupid goddamn in-class waggled finger," I grumbled grumpily on my way down the corridor, in a way that could imply to any on-lookers that I was unfairly being taken against my will to the Duke. There wasn't a Duke, and if I truly wanted to I could probably escape and hide in the bathroom until lunch, but that was a little extreme. Mr. Meadows was beginning to grate my nerves, sure. He'd been beating down my throat different ways to cope after I was last in his bad graces from knocking over paint cans in art class. Asking me if I was okay, telling me different numbers to call in the worst case scenario that I could no longer go on, giving me papers about group therapy sessions going on at the local clinic. He thought my fatigue and acting-out were cries for attention, shockingly enough.
He came to the door while I was in Art, just minutes away from the bell ringing, and told Mrs. Johnson that I needed to come with him. Everyone stared just like they did when I spilled paint, even Kallie and fucking Erica. I made sure to glare at them and slip a subtle middle finger. Fuckers, staring like they had permission. Mr. Meadows did his signature finger-wag, and I had to get up, books and bag in-tow, dragging my feet behind me in our journey to his office.
He sat me down, and met me face to face, our body language and gazes perfectly matched, in his own chair. I didn't hesitate to glower at him.
"I apologize, Alissa," he said. "I just wanted to check up and see how you were doing. You've had quite the month, haven't you?"
From the head gash to the "bear scratch" to the game of "What's Real" starring Monsieur Leech, yeah, the month hadn't been too kind. The only highlight was Paul, really. I couldn't, and didn't desire to, tell Mr. Meadows that all it took was Paul's company to make me feel higher than a rocket out of awkwardness so I just frowned at him. I decided I'd play the victim act, to see how far that'd get me.
"Oh, yes," I said, frowning sadly. "Just when I think things are getting better, my Dad! My Dad's bedridden with a case of rabies. Came from a dog in our neighborhood. Bit him right on the leg... tragic."
Mr. Meadows's face grew increasingly alarmed until it reached outright shock. "That's awful, Alissa. I'm so sorry."
"My boyfriend lost his cat. I loved Gizmo, so much."
"Again, my sincerest apologies."
"And I lost my favorite ring. I got it from my Mom before she... died." My voice cracked at the end. She was a touchy subject, so I couldn't decipher if the voice crack was real or not. I hoped it was the latter.
Mr. Meadows tried hiding his bewilderment but he wasn't a very good actor. Then again, neither was I, yet he was eating up everything I said like his pity for me made him blind. I wanted to preen.
I watched him suddenly stoop down, opening a drawer on the other side. "I have a few contacts in the area that may be right for you. They handle children in their coming-of-age stages and whatever traumas they may have underwent. I don't think I'm the right fit in seeing you get better."
I rolled my eyes where he couldn't see. It was fun for a short period but pretending around someone who didn't know any better about my shenanigans got painful after a while.
"I'm just kidding," I said, watching Mr. Meadows whip his head up. "There is no Gizmo, my Dad doesn't have rabies, I don't wear jewelry... all jokes. Sorry."
Mr. Meadows stared at me, face carefully blank. "Are you... okay?" he asked tentatively.
I stared back. "Yes," I said.
"I see," he said, putting whatever papers he'd pulled out back into their slots. "I apologize for bringing you in."
"It's okay," I said when it really wasn't. I didn't like being disrupted and having myself exempted from art class and sent with him to his office was just foreboding that today wouldn't be my day.
The bell had already rung so it was impossible to return. I'd need to go to my second period, Geometry, and I hated that class. I hated that class more than anything, even Shepherd's pie and Dakota.
We said our goodbyes. Mine was awfully brusque and his was a tad timid, and usually our office personalities were reversed.
I left his office hastily after his dismissal, hating that I'd be walking into second period late, hating the thought of being stared at, hating that Kallie was still pissed at me, and most of all hating that going back to normal seemed fucking impossible.
Now to deal with the Mrs., I thought. If Mr. Meadows was a hindrance, his math-teaching wife was like the apocalypse coming to shower over a birthday party.
School was absolute ass.
Thank the Lord.
Thankfully, lunch arrived fast and I speed-walked down to the cafeteria from English. English was easier to endure than Geometry because it usually had Jacob and it lacked Jacob today. Jacob was always annoying the shit out of me during chalkboard lectures and in-class readings. I got pretty good at ignoring him, but the result of his picking was paranoia. I looked around frequently to make sure he wasn't looking or had a finger raised to prod me for the umpteenth time. Jacob was like a little kid picking on his kindergarten crush except this wasn't a crush and we just had a rivalry that's been there since we were little more than six-years-old.
Truth be told, it probably came from my Dad and his Dad's own rivalry. He took it upon himself to continue the childish trend. Maybe I encouraged it but it wasn't like I saw Dad's disdain for the older man and thought, I should go fuck up child Black's day. My father would be proud. Nah, I had my own motivations and that was vengeance and clap-back. The fighting and the quarreling somehow turned into a lifelong vendetta that didn't include Billy Black because that man was awesome. Jacob's anger cemented itself when I started treating Bella horribly, thinking in my child mind that his crush on her was making him throw mud-pies and call me pathetic names. Maybe if I was mean to her they'd both start avoiding and ignoring me and Dad would finally let me stay home instead of insisting I socialize. Jared was always away playing with older kids for whatever reasons. Sometimes I'd follow him, thus the nicknames Sissy Lissy and Crybaby Cameron.
Jacob joining the pack was something I'd stay unsure about. It wouldn't be fun going around the wolves anymore, since Jacob would be there. He brought the Fun-O-Meter down to zero anywhere he went.
I walked into the cafeteria, feeling wafts of human odor and what smelt like chicken pot pie hit me.
"Alissa!" I heard, looking over to see Kim. Ah, Kim... just when I thought I could slip away to the library with my tray in tow, someone memorable had to notice my presence. Fuck.
I plastered on a smile and walked over to her, thinking it was oddly ironic that she was in the back of the line. It put me in a situation where I couldn't exactly just give a greeting and ignore her afterwards. She was smiling widely and wearing a pair of blue jeans and a Hollister hoodie. Super fashionable. I didn't look like I belonged in a modeling campaign either, my attire consisting of a white turtleneck with a black cardigan over-top, a pair of dark navy skinny jeans as pants and my favorite boots on my feet. I looked a little less casual than Kim, but fashion was never my strong suit. I usually put on whatever constituted presentable and met the school dress code. Coming up to Kim now, I felt... uncomfortable. Her two friends, Kristy and Miranda, were standing in front of her, their necks craning back to see where our conversation went.
"Hi," I said. I wasn't shy, at all. I didn't go mute around other people unless I was really angry and couldn't risk escalating things. Around these girls, I just didn't feel much like talking so I resolved to curt answers, even if curt answers would make it obvious just how I felt. Whatever. If they thought this was bad, they'd lose their shit after seeing my true colors.
"How are you? After... everything?" Kim asked, looking unsure.
Was she really asking this in front of two girls who knew next to nothing about her boyfriend's dog nature? That was a bold move.
I didn't look at Kim. I looked over at Kristy and Miranda, glaring hard enough that they flinched and turned away. They'd still eavesdrop like everyone and their mother did, but it made me feel better not having their eyes in this direction.
I returned my eyes, Kim's innocent face staring back. The line moved up. I took a few steps forward, prompting Kim to shuffle backward, in the direction of her two annoying friends.
"I don't know why you're talking about this now of all times, but it's whatever," I said, standing on my tiptoes to see over the line. They weren't having chicken pot pie like I originally thought, instead it was a chicken concoction of some sort... maybe chicken with gravy? Nah, it didn't look milky. It looked more like something with broccoli. "I'm fine."
"Kristy said you got pulled from Art," Kim whispered conspiratorially.
Fuck, it slipped my mind that Kristy was in Art. She was paired with Jeremiah for our end-of-the-semester project. It sometimes felt like they were gossiping about me, but I labeled that down to paranoia. Gotta love that shit.
I shrugged. "Mr. Meadows thinks I'm a basket case."
"That's awful," Kim said through a gasp.
"'Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it,'" I quoted, shrugging again. "I really don't care. I've been called worse."
Kristy popped her head around. "Oh, we've heard all the rumors... I'm so sorry you have to hear those."
My lip curled up in distaste.
We moved through the line, grabbing plastic trays from the corner. Unlike the rest of the girls, I didn't feel like eating chicken or broccoli so I grabbed a roll and a slice of Pepperoni pizza they had as the second main dish option. The chocolate-chip cookies arrived at the end of the line, as did the milks, and I paid for my meal.
The girls ushered me unwillingly to a table at the far back. I was segregated from the rest, not that I cared. I pulled a bottle of water out of my bag, hating milk.
Kristy, unable to let her thoughts stay thoughts, said, "Are any of the rumors true?"
I cut my gaze up from my tray, just as I was going to take a bite from my pizza slice. "Why are you asking me that?" I asked.
Kristy shrunk back. "I was just curious..."
I rolled my eyes. That confirmed she spent half of Art discussing my failed romantic endeavors with Jeremiah. "So you're one of the many idiots who thinks I got it on with Tommy Long." Most of the school thought I was some cheap whore. They probably thought Paul and I weren't actually dating and we spent our time together fooling around instead of talking. There was nothing wrong with fooling around regardless, so what was supposed to offend me? That they thought I couldn't score romantic interest, just sexual? Or maybe it was that everyone assumed no one saw my worth as a person. Girls could do whatever they wanted, just like boys. I didn't like that they drew conclusions about my relationship with Paul.
"Let's get one thing straight, Kristine," I continued, sounding more cutthroat than I anticipated myself capable of. Miranda, ever silent around newcomers, and Kim, passive where it counted, were silently watching our exchange like sheep. They probably thought the rumors were true, too. They all hung around each other and gossiped. For some reason that's all that girls did those days. Gossip was fun and all, but it got tiresome after a while, especially when it became obvious just what it did to other people. I was a little like a duck and let things roll off my back most of the time. Not everyone was resilient. "People can do whatever the fuck they want. If the rumors were true, what gives you the right to judge me?"
"She didn't mean anything bad by it," Kim jumped in before Kristy could put herself in an even worse predicament. "It's just that a lot of people say the same things."
"Yeah, rumors spread like wildfire," I said, appetite gone. I dropped the pizza slice back onto my tray. "That's how rumors are. They spread. I mean, Jesus, is this all you guys do? Draw assumptions from what's in the air and act like Nancy Drew, thinking you know everything? You don't know a thing about me."
I got up, aggressively pulling an arm of my backpack onto my shoulder. You all can take my tray to the dish rack, thank you, I angrily thought. I snatched my water bottle from the table and put it in its rightful place, in my backpack's side pocket.
Kim stood up with me, looking earnestly apologetic. "Alissa, I'm sorry, we don't mean anything by it. Kristy likes Jeremiah, she just wants to make sure he's not that kind of guy. You guys had a thing, so-"
"How dense are you?" If this was the kind of girl Jared thought hung the moon, then God have mercy on us all for whoever Jacob inevitably imprinted on. "I didn't have anything with Jeremiah, Tommy, Will, Easton, Terrance, Richard, or Carson! Not a single one of them. You'd know that if you actually talked to me instead of keeping your nose up Jared's ass."
"Jared's my boyfriend," Kim said, a crushed expression on her face, "and you never tried talking to me."
I glared at her. "I heard from Miranda you used to write his name in notebooks with our last name on your own, hearts with Cupid arrows and all. Is that a rumor? You followed him around and gushed about how cute he was. Is that something your dear best friend made up?"
Kim looked over at Miranda in hurt before looking back at me with that same pain in her eyes. "Well, I liked him, I liked him a lot. I had a crush," she said defensively. "You've had a crush! On Paul."
"Yeah, but my default personality isn't 'Paul this, Paul that,'" I said, rolling my eyes again. "Jared's all you live and breathe. I don't need a fucking magnifying glass to look close and see that."
Kim tried saying something else, probably to tell me I was wrong, but I ignored her, turning around and walking away to the cafeteria entrance. I walked and walked until I was far enough away that I could angrily suck up tears, falling against the nearest locker set. I dropped my backpack to the ground, my body following suit. I curled my knees up into my chest and tucked my head on them. There wasn't anyone else in the corridor so I felt safe to just sit.
God, I hated girls. Most girls. The ones that gossiped and spread rumors and ostracized people that did nothing to them and acted like boys didn't like them when it was the perfect-looking ones that didn't return affections. Kim was just another one of them, all soft and innocent until she was with her trusted confidantes. Maybe I was just as bad, degrading her in my head but I was angry. I was pissed off at her. I already knew from her relationship with Jared and the brief times we spent around each other that she wasn't my type of friend. Her idea of fun was telling her friends about how Cassidy definitely did have a thing going on with Hal behind Hal's girlfriend's back because Kim saw the impossible, the two of them making out by the football stand. She definitely thought the school was right about me before and even during and after definitely. When we sat with each other at lunch, Jared and Paul too, she hid how she assumed I was Jared's "whore" of a sister.
Her, Miranda, and Kristy could all go to Hell.
"Um," someone above me said. I looked up, shielding my eyes from the fluorescent overhead lights. "You're in front of my..." We realized at the same time who each other was. "...locker."
I scowled. "Jeremiah, what a lovely surprise," I said.
Jeremiah stepped back, allowing me to get up at my own time. When I was off the ground, holding the handle of my heavy-ass backpack like I wasn't straining with the weight, he curved around me, a hand going to his red-and-black lock. I stayed silent, watching him. His lock came unlatched and he pulled it out, hanging it off his belt loop for the time being.
"Is your guard dog anywhere?" he asked after setting his Biology textbook inside.
Why was everyone at this godforsaken school an asshole?
I could feel myself seething, cartoon steam erupting from my ears. My narrowed gaze caught his feet. "Your feet are awfully small," I said, gritting my teeth. "You know what that means, don't you?"
His head dipped down. "That I can buy from the kids' section?" he asked sarcastically.
"No, it means you give ladies a sad time in the bedroom," I told him, watching him whip around to defend himself. His face was stuck in anger, like a broken clock. I smiled. "Take your small penis and shove it in a donut, douche-canoe. Gossip about me again and everyone will know just how much of a micropenis you have."
I walked away, a skip in my step. Suddenly I felt much better.
My phone buzzed in Biology and I pulled it out, glancing up at the front of the room to make sure it wasn't seen by Mr. Green.
I pressed it deep into my lap and uncovered the screen, glancing up at Mr. Green's back a second time. Satisfied to see him occupied, I looked back down at my phone.
It was a text from Paul. I was surprised to see him texting me when he was meant to be helping Jacob adjust to his new life as half-dog. I opened the text anyway, not really expecting anything big.
We spotted another leech last night, it read boldly. It's still around. Go to Sam and Emily's after school.
I froze. Another leech? Go to Sam and Emily's?
I was in a scratch-your-scalp stage of bemusement.
There were only three reasons for another vampire to be in the area.
First option: the vampire, like Dakota, was here on the Volturi's orders. Or, the second option: it was a nomad, a wanderer, on the hunt. And the third option? Well, it felt more likely the more I pondered it. If the third option was the right answer, then that meant—
The vampire was here looking for the Cullens.
A/N: Sooo, just a head's up—New Moon is going to end soon! Perhaps about six more chapters (depending on chapter length) for the book/movie content? I'll most likely dedicate a few bonus chapters to what happens with the gang after the events of New Moon. I can tell you this, big events are going to happen and I think none of them will be expected. I hope this entire book has had curve-balls. Too many fanfics stick to 100% canon and sometimes that's fun to read, other times it's boring.
I have a lot of ideas for where to take things now that Dakota's arc has ended. I'm really invested in this story and where I can take it, a weird contrast to other stories I've tried. I don't have as much love for my other stories as I do for this one. I'm dying to see it through.
I'll make a promise—if I see an increase in feedback, I'll update within three weeks of every chapter. Maybe even faster than that. When I'm motivated, I'm crazy fast at dishing out content. I'm getting a good grasp on the over-all plot. I'm eager asf to edit it and make it perfect, but it gets me down at heart not seeing attention for it. So pls, if you want to see this story updated quicker than ever, give me love! :D Other than that, thank you so much to everyone favoriting and following and reviewing! I love you all *muah*
I wasn't happy or even satisfied with this chapter but oh well, I didn't want to make everyone wait any longer. It was going to be much longer but I'll save the juicy bits for next chapter, which will be coming out within the next few days. I already have the plot outlined so all I gotta do it write it hehe. See you guys very, very soon ;)
