| THE HUMAN CONDITION |
Chapter XXI: Out of Pocket Wolves
"Terror made me cruel."
Wuthering Heights | Emily Bronte
FATE HAD A FUNNY WAY OF ascertaining its presence. I always thought it was a mute little fucker with the same level of ability to attract attention as ghosts; subtly making appearances, but not rolling with the punches, all brawn and no brain. It was strange. I envisioned reality and expectations meeting somewhere in the middle, as someone who couldmake realistic expectations when she wanted to. This, though, was no middle ground. As reality muddied itself enough to resemble rain-soaked terrain, there wasn't any way of predicting shit, as much as I pleaded to. My reality felt like it came from the conscience of a cinematic marvel. Not real, not plausible.
Again, Fate made itself obvious. That came in the shape of my grandfather's spirit appearing to me in first what felt like a fever dream, now revealed to be my current supernatural reality.
"What the fuck?" I sputtered before remembering myself and the ashen man standing in front of me. His words, his tattered clothes, his placid smile. Fucking surreal, Jesus Christ. "Uh, I mean, what? Just what, nothing… else."
Arcus approached me, and looking at him, I could see why his clothes—of all the things to judge and appraise—were so familiar upon my first take. These were the exact clothes he wore in that memory I had of Dakota's when he came to kill him at Arcus's office in the Archives years and years ago. The same exact attire. That was the day he died. By his own hand or by Dakota's, that was still in the works on figuring out. In front of Dad or alone, another question I wanted answered. At points I would assume one thing, overlooking the other option… I'd forget to find an answer. With him physically (as physical as could be, given the situation) here it was possible, hearing the truth from the person himself.
Arcus smiled largely. "Ah, I know where you get that mouth from," he said, his eyes zigzagging over me frantically. A fondness entered his voice, unable to be recognized in his transparent gaze. "Richie never could help himself around me or his mother."
Grandma… My grandmother, Zali, died when Dad was young.
I frowned, eyeing my grandfather, father of my Dad. Assessing him. I didn't trust the wandering, fleeting thoughts entering my head, putting hope there that maybe his motivation for being here was to finally acquaint us—making up for the years spent in disarray because of supernatural fuckery. Jared and I were born little too late in Dad's life to meet our grandfather. We didn't have the clean-cut, white-picket-fence life; we never did. Instead what we got was a sad little existence marred by forces we didn't know, only brightened by Jared and I's sibling connection. Learning the truth did more harm than good in seeing the black behind the rising darkness. Getting enveloped in a whole other world wasn't sheer at fucking all. It was like closing your eyes in a cave.
There wasn't any room for hope. Not today, not tomorrow, not in the next millennia. The optimist in me was dead and not in the right climate for resuscitation.
Arcus looked entirely too genuine to be trusted.
"You said, 'You're finally here,' when you saw me," I quoted, relieved to remember his exact wording. "What the hell did you mean by that?"
His smile dimmed and I watched him sigh, his head turning to look up at the dying sky. "I've been dead for years," he said wistfully. "I always thought I'd prefer death to living life day by day, but chancing it was the worst mistake I ever made. I put faith in what fascinated me rather than what I trusted. I let myself fall under the spell of understanding a monster's psyche. It, of course, got the better of me. My fascination, I mean. Dakota was a killer and his mind was too warped to truly pick apart or save."
"But technically he did get saved," I said. Dakota had another chance at immortal existence that wasn't painful for mortals around him. Roman had my trust to keep Dakota in the right direction, as ridiculous as that sounded coming from one of his victims.
Arcus didn't look convinced. "As long as he has his head, he'll never be saved." I opened my mouth to argue but stopped myself short, seeing his own mouth reopen. "Taha Aki is an honorable man, one of the greatest minds I've come to know. He's moved on, against his will but to a better place that many of us here can only dream about visiting. He had more power than you could comprehend, I'd wager; it came at the price of his abilities in the mortal world as half-beast. His powers were taken from him in healing my boy. Richie."
I couldn't see myself ever knowing what happened that day—at least in a logical sense. Nothing explained it, and that was fine as long as my Dad still had a heart that beat.
"Why are you here and not there then?" You've been dead for over seventeen years went unspoken.
Arcus smiled sadly. "Only those who died weightless can willingly move on. There was always one regret or another tying me back to my roots."
My Dad was one of them.
"That doesn't explain why I'm seeing you now," I said.
"Taha Aki taught me everything I know," Arcus said, in a voice far beyond the woods in front of Sam and Emily's little house. His eyes were stuck on me but unmoving, like a picture in his head took every wisp of awareness he had and broke them. "I was a young lad, about your age, when I first felt it. I was afraid at first, but my father was alive at the time. He was alive long enough to see me flourish with Taha Aki's teachings. He's gone, and without him you have no teacher, Alissa. Your father's not in the right mental state to be one."
My Dad wouldn't teach me regardless of how he was fairing; he told me, blunt as a nail head, that I was reckless and he didn't know if he could trust me not to do something that hurt me or hurt those around me ever again.
Refusing to put a label on the feeling blooming in my chest, I erased all emotion from my face and said, "You're here to be my teacher. Aren't you?"
"I never wanted to return here and feel my regrets come back to curse me," Arcus said, squeezing his eyes shut. He turned his back to me. "I have many wrongs I wish I could right. Richie will resent me until the day he dies, I reckon. I was not the greatest father."
You guys have that in common.
I shook my head, wishing he had arms and legs I could touch so I was able to wrench him around to face me—but he didn't. I'd need to speak calmly, coherently, clearly. "Stress does that to a person. Makes a bitch of us all."
"I am here to teach you, Alissa," Arcus said in a soft voice, "but not tonight."
"Why not?" I asked. Coming at this time of night to relay the message was a little much for me, teetering on the end of theatrical. I still had to scurry back to Sam's house and retrieve my car. I wasn't lying to Paul when I said I had my art project to work on. Lots of commitments, too many to effortfully fulfill.
"I've come to tell you that on the next full moon, we will be training. All other obligations you have that night have no weight compared to this. This is important. You never know what's coming," Arcus said to me. He obviously meant it, too. A full moon… how cliché, I thought sardonically. "Full moons are great anchors for novices not yet in their element. You'll find better control and feel more at ease, as many of us discovered before you
I nodded slowly. "So what you're saying is you'll be back."
He smiled. "I will." He swore the phrase fiercely, like it was a promise. "Your father's incapacitation is a great blessing, as cruel as that is to say… I'm not brave enough to face what scars I've given my son and admit there's no amount of saying sorry that can fix it."
Dad never gave the impression that he begrudged his own father, but I myself found reasons to resent him daily. I was terrible at hiding my emotions. Dad was a secretive person. He had every disposition at his disposal to manage keeping known hatred at bay.
"Okay, I won't tell Dad then," I told Arcus, putting enough force into the words that they also sounded like a promise. My mistakes were the source of friction and strife for our family, but in the likely scenario that I was stuck unhappily sucking up to Dad and everyone else to keep my place in their circle, I wanted to keep this close to my chest. They'd try taking it away, forcing Arcus to return to the other side, because they all thought I was too immature.
I'll show them.
Another promise. This one felt like a threat.
Arcus nodded and came forward. He stood in front of me, and I had to look up because he was tall. Taller than Dad, who was average height. He had a pair of glasses glued in place on the brim of his nose. His black hair was messy and graying, still arguably young. He died in his mid-forties.
I swallowed hard. He reached forward and his hand rested on my shoulder. It didn't go through, it didn't hurt.
"Keep yourself safe," he said ominously.
Arcus disappeared like a flicker of light, and I was left consumed in darkness.
The jog back to my Dad's car was less nerve-wracking than I first assumed it'd be, with the dying daylight completely extinguished. I got there in one piece and unlocked the door, getting in with ease.
I had two options of where to go, both tempting.
One: I could go home, where homework galore laid in wait, my bed a seductress calling my name.
Or, option two: Sue's house.
My father still refused to come back to where he actually lived. There wasn't any viable reason, nothing there that constituted logic. I got angrier and less likely to forgive as he stayed there, not returning my calls. Sue the messenger when she said I couldn't visit as the dickhead was still healing.
"Fuck it," I muttered and kicked the gear into drive. I left Sam and Emily's driveway heading the opposite way of my house.
Within minutes, I arrived. Harry and Sue's house.
I got out of my Dad's car, leaving it running like someone on a quick-timed mission, and marched up to the door. I threw my fist into the wood. I hit it three times for good measure and let my sneakers drag across the porch in bored impatience.
Moments later Sue opened the door a crack, peaking her head out. Her face was in a pinched expression, void of any nerves. "Alissa, dear, what are you doing here at this time of night?"
I scowled. "Let me in, Sue. I'm seeing that bastard the polite way or scaling the wall."
Sue physically recoiled back. I could see her determining whether she needed to shut the door. "Alissa, you have school tomorrow, don't you? Shouldn't you—"
Huh, she wanted to change the subject. There was something keeping her from allowing me in the house. I was pretty respectful about boundaries most days, but this was something I had to do. Sue's refusal would only compromise my plans.
I pushed at the door until Sue had no choice but to step back. I hurriedly rushed through the crack, wiggling my way into Sue's perfectly clean house. Barging into a family friend's house wasn't how I thought my night would go, at least when this morning started.
Sue tried grabbing my wrist. I twisted out of her grip, dancing from any more compromises. Compromising positions. "Alissa, he isn't in the right state of mind for you to just—" she tried again.
"Stop, just stop!" I said loudly, not caring if I woke up Harry, Leah, Seth, anybody. They probably weren't asleep anyway. It was, what? Ten at night? "It's been fucking days, Sue. If he still can't see me, then there's something he's hiding. Am I wrong?"
Sue remained silent, eying me nervously. Her eyes went over my head, at the stairs, where the guest room was. Dad was there. Sleeping, maybe staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the two kids he left to fend for themselves, making deep progress for the Worst Dad of the Year award at December's Shitty Parents award show. The usual.
I snorted. "Yeah, he's not subtle."
Sue seemed to consider her options. Ultimately she didn't spare me another word. I took this for her blessing. Nonverbal, disinclined.
I took the stairs two at a time, my mind entirely cloudy. There were so many ways I'd find him, none of them nice. All of them undesirable.
Sue's guest room was in the middle of the hallway that the stairs led me to. I absentmindedly admired the faux bouquet she had of plastic flowers on the wooden mantel before grabbing the golden doorknob in my fist, holding it like a vice. I gently fell against the door, ear pressed to the chestnut wood. I didn't hear anything except the soft murmur of an air-conditioning unit. Even the occupants of the house, assumedly catching early z's or counting sheep, were strangely quiet. It was disarming.
Testing the lock, I was relieved to find the knob movable. I quickly twisted it.
The door popped open to reveal nothing. Nothing unordinary.
The guest room wasn't the cleanest; there were boxes and trinkets tossed around, old clothes looking like they had a one-way ticket to Goodwill haphazardly thrown together in heaps. Even the bed had piles sitting precariously on the edge. The window was open, even with the air-conditioner on to keep the house cool, and the room was chilly. More than chilly. I shivered despite being in a hoodie with thermal undershirt and my thickest pair of jeans.
No one else was in the room.
I ventured further inside, finding the quiet and the lack of anyone inside questionable. It was fucking disconcerting. This was the only room available for a man who went comatose from freaky spirit magic; if he wasn't here, where in the fucking hell could he be?
Maneuvering around cardboard boxes full of receipts and old manuscripts, I got to the bed. The sheets were wrinkled and in disarray, the bed's quilt (different shades of cream, sage, and burgundy) folded over itself like someone had tossed the covers up after awakening. I crouched down and looked underneath the bed. No one. More boxes full of old junk.
"What the fuck?" I burst out.
The door behind me slammed. I straightened up so quickly that my back popped, and I whirled around.
Dad stood where I last walked, his normally kempt hair stuck up off his scalp and his chest exposed. There were lesions on his skin where there was nothing, no hint of any harm, last time I saw his chest after Taha Aki healed him.
This wasn't what I expected. I couldn't look anywhere else, counting the scars as quickly as my eyes could locate them. Strange, I didn't remember those being there.
Taha Aki didn't heal everything… I thought he did.
It hit me, like a blow to the ribs, that Taha Aki's healing hand was equivalent to jumping a time slot; he sped up the process but didn't restructure his chest to look exactly like it did before the incident.
Strange.
I swallowed, tearing my gaze away. Dad's gaze was entirely void and when we looked at each other, there wasn't anything indicatory, not giving hints to what was going on in his head. He looked fine, minus the healing scars. There was something off-putting about his eyes. Me being absolute shit at reading emotions, I could pick up on a complete lack of anything decodable but barely any of the normal cues for what someone was feeling, like nail-biting for anxiety and palm-rubbing for discomfort.
Dad crossed his arms over his bare chest. "What are you doing here, Alissa?" he asked.
I fought a scowl, pretending to give all my attention to the hangnail on my left index finger. "Oh, barging into other people's houses is what happens every Monday night," I said, sneaking a glance toward him. He didn't laugh. I had to rethink my approach. "Okay, want the truth?"
Any other occasion, a response was expected—suggested by the lingering silence after my question. Not a rhetorical one.
Dad stared at me, silent himself.
He was acting weird. Robotic-like.
"You're honestly the person I hate most right now," I said, deciding against darting around the truth. This was the truth, wasn't it? Even compared to Jacob and Jared, there was something about his dismissive, self-righteous attitude and how I only discovered certainties about our LSD trip of a life accidentally that rubbed me the wrong way—like sandpaper. Maybe it wasn't hate, exactly, but close in nature. Resentment at the least. "You refuse to see me, your daughter, and Jared, your firstborn son for days. Do you think parenting is a fucking switch you can flip? A uniform you wear and take off? It's a full-time, 24-hour job, buckaroo, and you're fucking awful at it."
Dad callously considered me, barely seeming to register my words. I wasn't being antagonistic enough.
I marched forward and poked a finger in his chest, pushing him back into the shut door. I forgot what to hide and what not to hide, just letting my frustrations take complete control. "Do you know the shit you've put us through? Why the fuck did you have us if you knew we'd be brought up in a Van Helsing Hell? I can't fucking stand this, and to top it all off Taha Aki is gone so my own grandfather, who I don't even fucking know, is teaching me. Teaching me what you refuse to. How's that for Worst Father of the fucking Year—"
If I had continued on, I would have sprouted off even more somewhat creative insults, going on a tirade that was manifested from weeks of anger more bitter than one-hundred-percent authentic dark chocolate.
Unfortunately I never got a chance to carry on. Before I could loosely pull together new phrases, my breath went silent, a considerably big hand wrapping around my throat painfully tight. Painfully tight translating to so fucking tight I couldn't talk, much less blow out air. My hands snapped up to the wrist of the person choking me, uselessly sinking my nails into their skin. My eyes flickered up, now seeing no way out of my predicament, to look at my father, not an ounce of guilt in his eyes for a man with his hand around his daughter's throat.
We exchanged a glare. Well, he glared and I tried speaking a plea through my eyes.
He sneered at me and I coughed out a whimper when he reeled around, slamming me into the door his back was once to.
I had no choice but to struggle against his hold like a hydrophobic cat being held over a filled bathtub. Thinking it wasn't real, because even a father built of robotic parts wouldn't deliberately put his daughter in harm's way, of his own doing.
"You inconsiderate, ungrateful, foolish little twerp," he hissed, saliva spitting from his mouth onto my face. I was unable to wipe it away, as the spit-giver was fucking asphyxiating me, but thinking about spit sliding down my face did minutely minimize some of the pain. "I have done more for you than anyone on this planet. You want to tell me, me, that I am the worst father? Look at lowly little Embry or even Alpha Uley. They don't have fathers, their fathers were never in their lives. My father ruined my childhood. Talk to me about terrible fathers like you know shit. You don't know shit. You know absolute fucking nothing, Alissa."
He dropped me to the ground, and I landed painfully on my coccyx. I quickly slumped over, holding a hand to my throat—out of breath and unable to even inch my eyes over his legs as terrified as I was. Any longer of him gripping me there and I would have passed the fuck out.
His leg harshly moved me from the door, and he opened it, still managing to graze my leg with the edge.
"Get out, Alissa," he said lowly. The demand of the century.
Without responding and still reeling over his absolute fucking 180 in character, I stumbled to my feet and darted out of the room.
Thinking every step of the way, even through my flitting awareness of Sue's bewildered face upon my run through the kitchen, that that man in the room was not my father.
The next morning I woke up to two enormous hand-shaped bruises on my neck. I spent almost an hour meticulously applying concealer and seeing no point in just having make-up on my neck, I went ahead and did my face too. I even curled my normally frizzy hair.
School was a mundane, agonizingly slow affair. I ignored nearly everyone, paranoid that someone would sniff out my deception of being in a "spectacular" mood and notice blue and black peeking out of the heavily-applied concealer on both sides of my throat. Thankfully, no one did. Possibly because I'd skirt around questions and keep my hands plastered to my jawline like one of those baggy sweater-handed kids with the doll faces. I docilely paid attention in class, contrary to my usual school performance; it was like a fucking punch in the face to people who noticed me, I'd gander, but surprisingly I went under everyone's radar. The next day was the same. So was the next day and the next.
The days went less than swimmingly. Jared, still sore over my words to Kim, refused to speak to me. I was told by Embry that the asshole expected an apology, from my mouth to Kim's ears. I had Embry play delivery-boy, sending Jared the message that apologizing for something as pathetic as standing up against petty gossip was furthest from my mind. With my stance on the matter made clear, Jared went back to petulantly avoiding any contact with me, and Paul went back to his standstill state, his middle ground position allowing him to flit between us like a ping-pong ball. He was Jared's best friend but my boyfriend; I still took top priority. Jared had Kim anyway, the very girl he chose against me, his own blood, time and time again. I'd do the same, even though warped priorities wouldn't apply if our positions were reversed. Jared didn't have to know that, him or Paul.
I was secretly a blood-first kind of gal.
Anyway, Jared was ground-level of the totem pole when it came to what worried me most. I had yet to risk another late-night chat with Richard, no longer "Dad" after he choked the actual life out of me. I would probably wait to the absolute last minute before trying again. Yeah, maybe after the bruises from our last one healed; I didn't want anyone figuring out the shit going on behind the scenes. I didn't want anyone knowing about Dad's personality flip, or even my grandfather appearing to teach me control. I had responsibility over it, over all my bullshit, that I didn't want shared with anyone else—even Sam, who knew more than me, and Paul, who was as levelheaded as a politician taking anger management classes. It was ridiculous in a "Are you out of your fucking mind?" way, but to me, it made logical sense; I let the matter rest, unwilling to reexplore it.
Though I tried avoiding everyone, Embry refused to take "Leave me the fuck alone" as an order and pestered me until I stopped complaining. He took Kallie's place, as cruel as that was to say. He was funnier and more likely to call me on my bullshit; Kallie had a bad habit of following me into danger zones, mental and physical, instead of dragging me out. I couldn't help but peg him for a puppy-dog, especially when he asked me his Kallie-related questions. It sucked for him and me that with Kallie avoiding me like I was the living embodiment of the Black Plague, I couldn't play wing-woman the way I probably would've otherwise. I still answered his questions and gave him hints about what Kallie liked and disliked. This was against every bitter atom in me that didn't want Kallie anywhere near our lifestyle.
Paul was… Paul. Sam had a nice talk about his truancy record and Alpha-ordered him to stay in school, whether they were chasing vampires or helping a new shifter. Paul wasn't heartbroken, per se, but to say he was happy was an overstatement. He was fucking pissed. Making Paul, as agitated and restless as he was, stay in school while the rest were off saving the reserve from overgrown leeches? It wasn't surprising when Paul started sulking, being meaner than usual. Even I wasn't exempt from his wrath. Embry and I just stuck to playing Go Fish at lunch and discussing whether Michael Myers could beat Hellraiser in a one-on-one fight. Paul didn't like Embry and I being chummy-chum buds that closely bordered how our own friendship was before a relationship blossomed; it probably made him think I'd dump him for a new chew-toy. Sam apparently saw these thoughts in Paul's head because Embry told me after school on one of those mundane days that Sam gave Paul the "imprint talk" again. Apparently, Paul was the only one who couldn't fathom that the same fierce loyalty he felt, I felt.
Paul warmed up only slightly after this "chat" but he was still sulking. He'd choose lame old patrol over school any fucking day.
Jacob was… Jacob. Like Paul, he had a personality that just didn't shift depending on the day; it had some form of natural Botox. He wasn't as cruel as I came to expect from him, less likely to call me "off-brand dish soap" than to tell me to shut up. From what Embry told me, Sam talked with Jacob about being nicer whenever I was around. I was a staple of the pack and deserved "respect." I didn't know if I could believe Embry but I liked to think he was a honest guy, my new BFF and all.
Avoiding was harder than I thought it'd be. Already deemed a failure, I barely put up a fight about going to Emily's for "pack bonding" when Embry begged me to come during lunch. Paul knew I hated going around Jacob so he had that wary look in his eye the entire time, flattening out into surprise when my "Okay, sure" was in reluctant haste. Emily's wasn't the worst place to go, and Jacob wasn't the worst person in existence… he was down there at the bottom, but worse than Hitler? Hell no. Worse than Dakota? Yeah, no.
At Emily's, Jacob rudely called me a "dollar store tramp" for wearing a short-sleeve shirt in winter before Sam Alpha-commanded him to shut up and apologized on the pinned-ear moldy meatloaf's behalf. Even after we were all leaving, Jacob and Embry to patrol and then Paul and me for home, Sam pulled me to the side and told me he was sorry for Jacob and Jared's behavior the other night. I easily forgave him, mostly because he had the guts to apologize unlike some people but somewhat because it was a direct admittance that I wasn't the one causing drama. I felt proud all the way home, up until I passed out on the living room couch.
At school the day after that, Thursday actually, the result of flaunting my newfound friendship with Embry in Kallie's face came to smack me in the front. Saltier than the ocean floor, Kallie would tell everyone in the school what she thought of me; that I was a bitch, I was mad at her for ignoring me, and I was trying to spite her. How I found this gossip-chain out? From Erica, the freshman with a mouth even louder than mine. Spiteful myself, I decided to embarrass her the only way I knew how—being a loudmouth. I was first chastised by Mrs. Johnson for painting a picture of Kallie freefalling out of a tree because of a broken heart (today was the only day of the week we had to work on "personal" projects), so sealing my fate, I told the devil woman and everyone in the room, "Kallie O'Brien is a pixie bitch fish stick faker than a bacne advert, and she can get eaten by a frenzying band of hungry fucking sharks for all I care. Oh, and she's fictionally, spiritually, and emotionally taken by Embry Call, sorry boys." Kallie was utterly mortified by my words, but I preened silently, refusing to apologize when Mrs. Johnson demanded for me to and walking with a skip in my step to Mr. Meadows's office, even while being escorted. The man, seemingly tired by my endless visits, just played tic-tac-toe with me for the length of our session, letting me know Mrs. Johnson's solution was me attending a session every day for the rest of the semester. Here I thought that might've been wonderful news, but the man was inches from closing his eyes and wishing three times for me to be part of a fever dream. How hurtful.
I didn't let it get me too down. Embry was upset and cornered me at lunch for everyone in the school thinking he was in a relationship without ever asking Kallie out, and even then I didn't feel bad. I should have, I really deserved to, but I didn't feel guilty. Not even a little bit. I went home and cleaned the kitchen and my bedroom until both were spotless; maybe that was my subconscious's own form of making up for my misdeeds. Embry forgave me by the next day, only because he had it in his lovesick head that this would speed up the process of them getting together. I found it unlikely, given Kallie was very tentative when it came to crushes.
Before I knew it, it was Saturday. Friday was just a mundane school-day with me returning home afterward and feeling like shit, barely made better by Embry's unwarranted forgiveness and a lunchtime debacle of two different couples breaking up. Saturday, though, was weird. Around noon I got a call from an unknown number on our house phone. Thinking nothing of it I answered. Imagine my expression when the voice that came through over the line was Bella fucking Swan.
"How did you get this number?" I asked immediately, knowing it was wrong to accuse before I had the facts but doing it nonetheless.
Bella, in that nervous manner of hers, said she got it from Charlie. Charlie Swan was the Chief of Police in Forks, and one of the few men outside of the Council that Richard didn't hate. I could see both men having each other's number.
Still, I was confused and insisted on her telling me, word for word, what had her calling.
She asked me if I knew of any meadows in the area.
There was one, but it was down in Forks. Kallie and I went hiking in November, mostly past the reserve's line, and saw a lot of scenery she liked and I sure as hell didn't—one such thing being a meadow.
I didn't want to know the cost of telling her, so I did what I felt was best for a danger-hungry girl like her: I lied. I told her I didn't know of any meadows, here or there. Bella thanked me for my time, and I didn't bother deciphering her tone to see if she believed me or not.
I hung up.
That was the strangest event on the fourth. There was also Paul appearing hours later when I was just getting ready to take a nap and yelling up at me to retrieve him a pair of Richard's old pants, maybe a shirt too. I obviously complied, as a girlfriend who hated sending her boyfriend off unclothed in territory I had no eyes in and as a daughter who hated the fuck out of her father and loved the idea of discomfort, for him exclusively. That was about it.
Then more days passed. Embry would force me to come to Emily's, and the visits were unbearable with Jacob's big ego in the room, Jared's too. Jared lightened up after I finally sucked up my pride and physically apologized to Kim at school. He apologized too, for his unjustified words that day. Kim fucking hugged me and invited me to join her and her friends at lunch whenever the boys weren't around for me to hang out with. I had Paul's truancy records to thank when he was my excuse, but Kim was none-the-wiser after Jared confirmed Paul's less-than-ideal routine. Anyway, Kim was now around at Emily's house for dinners and both that and Jacob's presence annoyed me to no end—but I couldn't actually voice my annoyance. That would result in another argument that had me fifteen seconds from breaking down. I at least had Embry to preoccupy myself with, and he was the only one in the room that had a sense of humor and watched horror movies religiously. Paul wouldn't stop sulking about Sam's Alpha order, otherwise he'd be included on my Nice List.
Life had a mechanical quality to it, routinely spinning when prompted and bearing its gifts only when working at optimal speed—crashing down hard when we least wanted it to. Kind of like a machine. Life was a machine. That's why assholes would tell you, Life is what you make it; machines were just as unpredictable and when you started taking life by the reins, that's when life would start reacting the way you hoped for.
What a dumb fucking metaphor.
Though, that was how life became those days following Arcus's first visit. Manual the way things were before Taha Aki met me in the parking lot. People were gears and I was the lever.
Maybe not such a dumb fucking metaphor. There was a certain tantalizing power in playing God…
Ahem, anyway.
The full moon was approaching. Soon I'd be meeting Arcus again and finally, finally I'd see what I was capable of outside of mood swings and poor anger management. Anger and fear, as Dakota told me, were the denominators dictating the power in my swings; if I didn't have a handle over them, there wasn't any point in even attempting to reach my full potential. As I saw when really, really pissed off, I could do a deal of minor damage at my fury's peak. That was without having control over it. I both hated and loved to think what I'd do in control.
I knew Arcus had to have something in the Archives that detailed his findings. From what I heard he wasn't some all-mighty powerful fella and grazed middle ground for his own prowess; Richard was the powerful one, his son. I was eager for Arcus to return so I could interrogate him about everything he knew, primarily how Richard witnessed his death if the memory fragment I had before he died was of Dakota coming upon him alone in his office. That was a plot hole if there ever was one. I preferred knowing everything from the mouth of someone trustworthy over, say, Richard and the memoryless Dakota. They were the ones I'd been learning everything from and that had to be part of the issue.
Knowing the Archives could have everything I'd ever want to know, I held myself accountable on a promise: I would get the key to Dad's office, maybe what was once Arcus's too. And I'd learn what I could before Arcus returned.
Billy Black was my safest bet on who had a key.
That Saturday at noon, instead of wasting a tank on a such a short drive, I walked the ten minutes to the Black house. Paul would give me an earful if I told him I walked around the forest, seeing as there was a batshit crazy redhead on the loose, but hey, he'd just have to get the fuck over it. I got to Billy and Jacob's house intact, contrary to what paranoid Paul would assume. I spent too long peering around and admiring the new walkway Sam apparently installed, for Billy's convenience. Taking a glance at the trees beyond the outside clearing, I walked up the stairs to their door. I knocked my fist against the tiny window.
Seconds passed. There was nothing beyond the little windows before I could hear someone tromping through the foyer. I suddenly saw Jacob's face through the glass, his ugly mug an easy way to prompt my gag reflex. He seemed bemused seeing me here. I just shrugged and his eyes rolled. Thankfully the door still came open.
Jacob was a hulking mass in the doorway. The two of us exchanged a long, silent stare. "Did you bring Bella with you to get me in trouble?" he asked drily, peering over my head. My car wasn't even out here so I didn't understand what he thought he'd be seeing. Bella hiding behind a tree? Bella in his garage?
I rolled my eyes. "No, asshole. I'm here on my own agenda, so let's get a little mano e mano going, huh?"
"Are you asking me to fight you?" Jacob's eyes squinted.
"Wait, what? I thought it was like brother to brother, you know, a friendly saying. Ugh." Mrs. Newton taught me absolute jack-shit in Spanish. I waved a hand dismissively, hoping we could overlook my failed take on being bilingual. "Here, whatever. Can I talk to your Dad?"
Jacob didn't make a move to allow me entrance. "Why?"
"I need the master key for the Archives. Billy should have it," I explained, almost high-fiving myself for how fast and easy the words came out.
Jacob seemed to buy this, this being the truth, and the door creaked when he pulled it completely open. "Okay. Don't be your usual loud, I'm going back to sleep."
He left me standing in the doorway, disappearing into a room at the end of the hall.
I took what little knowledge I had of their house and put it to use. There were two options where Billy would be: the kitchen and the living room. I took a gamble and decided he was probably watching TV at this hour. Having respect for anyone trying to get a little shut-eye, I quietly headed down the corridor, bypassing Jacob's room.
Billy was in the living room, facing the TV that was playing a game. Baseball, it looked like. I shook out of my short-lived interest and quietly approached. Having not heard the door he turned at the sound of my footsteps, an eyebrow raising at Alissa Cameron, of all people, standing in his house. Allowed in by the bane of her existence himself.
"Hey, Billy," I said awkwardly, waving my hand. The TV was up loudly and an octave below what would undoubtedly drown out my voice. Billy was a sports fan, as I knew, so turning it down would only come if the world was ending. I'd just have to deal with it. "I dunno if it's you or Quil's grandfather that has the master key, but your house was closer so I thought I'd ask you first. Sorry, that was an informal way of asking. Mr. Black, by any chance do you have the Archives' master key in your possession, privy tell?"
Billy snorted and I watched with puzzled eyes as he reached over on the couch and grabbed the remote, turning the TV almost ten volume marks down.
"You don't have to be formal with me, Alissa. You're not Richard. And if Jacob let you in, I can assume you're not here to murder me where I sit," he said and smiled. I returned it after overcoming my surprise. "I'll have to look through my things for it, but I'm sure it's somewhere. Why are you here asking me instead of your father?"
Because he's fucking crazy.
I shrugged. "He was asleep when I went by Sue's last time. Still recovering, I guess."
Billy nodded and interlaced his fingers, letting his hands rest on his lap. "How's he doing?"
"He's… Richard." Perfect explanation, something a dutiful daughter would definitely say about her father. "Incapacitate him and he's a nightmare to live with. Thank God it's Sue and not me."
Billy laughed, but it probably wasn't as funny as I thought it was while saying it. That was the thing about saying words without thinking them over beforehand; you couldn't accurately anticipate the reception.
"I remember your father in school," Billy said in agreement, and the two of us shared a grimace. "Now that I think about it, Paul reminds me of him."
That was the most repulsive thing anyone had ever said to me. Comparing the man who donated his sperm for my debut appearance in the world to the guy who regularly shoved his tongue down my throat was just… not something I ever imagined hearing, nor wanted to hear ever.
I blanched back. "What—no. Absolutely not. Paul is nothing like Ric—Dad."
"You'd be surprised," Billy said, not losing his smile.
Would I be surprised?
When I opened my mouth to again protest against his comparison, I heard something that stopped me short. The sound was familiar, heard over the TV's murmur, and I froze, hoping to quickly place it before diving into another plausible reason against Billy's judgment. Then, as the sound became louder, it hit me like a satchel of bricks; it was Bella's loud-ass truck. Coming here, to the only house she frequented on the reserve.
"What's she doing here?" I asked Billy, practically demanding an answer. The way he eyed me in my frozen state, I would've bet money he was debating whether I led her here. Jacob did have that paranoid forethought.
Billy glanced between me and the foyer that led to his bedroom, probably hoping to hightail it away before Bella came pounding on the door. I understood the feeling. Bella, as much as she was a nervous wreck, could be motivated—and with her close-knit relation to Jacob, she didn't seem like the type to brush off his Alpha-commanded evasion of her. If she saw him in the last few days then she probably saw his new haircut and freshly-developed muscles, piecing together the narrative Jacob once believed that he was now a drugged-up recruit of Sam's. That was likely, though no one thought to tell me Bella had seen Jacob; I was a great liar and always itching to fabricate whimsical, borderline-sarcastic lies.
"I can answer the door, if you want," I offered.
Billy shook his head, a sigh leaving him with the movement. "It'd be best if I do."
Yeah, fucking with Jacob was second nature… and Billy knew that.
Bella's Chevy truck cut off and the driver's door opened and slammed shut. From this far away I didn't hear her footsteps, but both Billy and I did hear her current of slow knocks on the door.
Billy wheeled around me toward the hall. Following at a dawdling pace, I kept about six feet away from him until he got to the entranceway. Bella's anxious face peered through the open windows.
I watched Billy slowly open the door.
"Bella," he greeted.
Bella looked at him, then looked at me where I hovered uncertainly by a bookshelf covered in miscellaneous objects.
"I need to see him," she said, obviously talking about Jacob.
Billy simply said, "He's not in."
I expected Bella to bow her head, apologize, and leave, but that wasn't what happened. Her gaze indicating she didn't believe Billy at all and her still posture all I had to see to know she wasn't going to leave that easily, Bella pushed her way into the house, just like I did at Sue's last week.
"I'm sorry, I really need to see him," was all she gave as explanation. Not stopping to greet me or take in the house. She brushed my shoulder as she passed, heading straight to where Jacob's room was.
I blinked.
"Lovely, barging in someone's house like that," I said, not really knowing what else to say.
Billy shook his head but gave me the side-eye, like he knew exactly what I did at Sue's. I was the least eligible person to be making quips. Still would and could as long as I had a tongue—though that wasn't something I'd tell Billy.
I cracked my knuckles, unsure as what to do.
Impatiently staring at where Bella disappeared, I was shocked when she came stomping back. Determined as ever, but obviously a lot angrier, she went through the open door without a word of grace to either of us. I saw why when I scuttled over and looked out. Sam, Paul, Embry, and Jared were out there, returning from patrol or coming here to retrieve Jacob, and Bella was striding straight for them like a bullet with a mind of its own.
"Oh shit," I said and looked over at Billy. What I came here for didn't feel very important now—and it quickly slipped to the back of my mind as a priority. "Hey, I'll come back later for the key and, uh, other things—I'll make sure she doesn't get herself killed… You may should wake Jacob, or don't, choice is yours—"
Without another word I literally sprinted out of the Black house.
Bella was pushing Sam's chest when I got at a decent vantage, taking long strides up the clearing and struggling to keep up when the chick was a fucking woman on a mission.
"What did you do? What did you do to him?" she shouted, and I had to admit, seeing her yell was fucking polarizing. Since when did Bella Swan have guts? Or maybe the expression was "spine." Whatever—either way, she had bothI was shocked.
Without seeing her face, I knew she was livid. She wasn't aware of shifters and still fell under the impression that Sam had done something to Jacob. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if she thought they were all on drugs. Embry used to say they were hall monitors on steroids, and Jacob told everything to Bella; Bella's impression of them was entirely Jacob's fault.
Paul, ever the temperamental one and probably still reeling from his shitty week courtesy of his substandard attendance record, lurched for her and Sam's arm had to draw a line that kept him rooted. "Easy," he said placatingly.
"Bella, just stop—you don't know what the fuck you're saying," I said, almost panting as I reached where they were. I put my hands on my knees and keeled over, trying and failing to catch my breath. Completely futile as Bella took it upon herself to take Jacob's place as my least favorite annoyance, but the thought was what counted—though annoyance fueled my bloodstream when she didn't automatically heed my warning. Bella Swan had a death wish, who knew?
All of them looked at me, excluding Bella. Bella, who didn't show any sign that she heard me as she still had a bone to pick with Sam. "He didn't want this," she said angrily, gaining their attention again.
Paul, a strain in his jaw already from Bella's push and accusations, ignored Sam's imaginary line and got up close and personal— "What did we do? What did he do?" he demanded of her, almost mocking. "What'd he tell you?"
Sam pushed Paul back, looking between him and Bella. "Both of you, calm down."
"She's not worth it," Jared said in Paul's ear, loud enough for me to just catch it. He met my eyes after I stared long enough for it to be noticeable, and I knew with just one glance that he was telling me whatever I decided to do, not to approach Paul and put myself in his line of fire in the worst-case scenario that Bella did make him lose control. Yeah, I wasn't suicidal. I learned my lesson from last time.
Jared used to force Paul into avoiding me for this exact reason. I wouldn't give him any motivation to do the same now.
"He's afraid of you, of all of you," Bella spat, and she got too close for comfort with Paul—it made me roll into action, following Jared's unspoken "advice."
Paul was getting better at phasing only when he had overt control over himself, but he still had a short fuse and Bella was practically prancing around it, caution thrown entirely to the wind. What happened with Emily didn't need to happen with Bella, especially if her little vampire family happened to return in the future. The Cullens wouldn't react kindly to their pet being malformed beyond repair, and I'd had enough vampiric rage to last the rest of the year.
I went over to the seething Bella and grabbed her arm, tugging to get her attention. "Hey, listen, Bella," I said, probably sounding patronizing but under the pretense of a time limit, I didn't stop to revise my tone. "Stop yelling, get a grip. If you do, we can help you under—"
She cut me off.
"You're in on this?" she asked me in disbelief.
I rolled my eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"This, all this. The secrets and the lies and the avoiding," she said, throwing her hands up melodramatically. I had to laugh.
I friendlily pushed her in the shoulder and thought back to my absolute laugh attack when I learned that Billy had told Bella the finest excuse to date for Jacob not returning her calls. "If you mean I knew Jacob didn't have mono, then yeah, you've caught me—"
Bella, apparently thinking I was mocking her the way Paul did, pushed me too—except her push's pressure caught me off guard and was hard enough that I fell to the ground.
Did this bitch seriously just push me?
I landed wrongly on my wrist and God, if this wasn't the wrong time and wrong place—
I rocked forward, like I was going to spring up and hit her. "Ow, hey!" I shouted, maybe a little late on the reaction time. "What the fuck was that for?!"
Embry came to my aid and helped me up, and Bella obviously had that intention of yelling at Sam again—but it was Paul, his face twitching and body trembling from fury, who she faced.
Paul's lips were drawn back in a snarl and I could see his composure wavering. Sam had a hand on his arm and he spoke lowly: "She's not hurt. Calm. Down."
I scoffed at his appraisal of my injuries. Speak for yourself, Sam.
Bella's head turned different ways so she could make eye contact with every pack member and she said, "He won't speak to me, because of you! He tells me nothing because he's scared of you!"
Paul laughed jeeringly through his snarl. This was the last straw for Bella.
Before any of us could react, Bella reared her arm back. It came soaring through the sky at Paul's face—and she gave him the loudest bitch-slap I'd ever witnessed in my life.
That did it. That cut the plug.
"Too late now," Jared said. There was a smirk on his face.
"Embry," Sam warned, jerking his head at me. "Bella, get back."
Embry roped his arms around mine and drew me into his side, stepping leaps away from Paul's convulsing, huffing form.
Bella, however, was still in Paul's line of sight. Not running away, she stood and stared at him in horror.
Paul jerked and his back cracked, his eyes popping out of their sockets. We all watched, in varying degrees of awe and amusement, as Paul lost his temper.
Sam, knowing there wasn't any chance of sedating him but trying anyway, said, "Paul. Calm down, now."
Paul didn't listen.
Before our eyes he went up in the air and came back down as a snarling, predatory-gazed wolf. Gray and his spine pinned back like he would lunge, given the opportunity. Staring at the only prey in view—heading straight for the princess in distress herself.
Bella was backing up but now with Paul a bear-sized wolf that had every intention in hurting her, she stumbled backwards before wheeling around, sprinting away like a runner with a leg injury.
Huh.
"Dude, what would happen if he ate her?" I asked Embry out of morbid curiosity, watching the spectacle with a flippant eye. In the aftermath of her pushing me I didn't care as much as I should have about her well-being.
He shrugged. "Jacob would die of heartbreak probably."
We shared a snigger but silenced after Sam shot us a sharp, unamused look. Paul was still in wolf form and Bella was running away in terror, tearing through the clearing for the Black house where her truck was.
Suddenly, there was a call that came from the house she was gunning for. "Bella!"
Oh, look who came to join the party—it was Jacob. Jacob, who ran out his front door apparently having been woken up by Billy. From here I couldn't see his expression, but I'd bet money on him fearing for Bella's life.
"Run!" Bella screamed. Jacob ignored her and came dashing at her, jumping over different obstacles in his way. The front porch, a hole in the ground. "Jake, run!"
Jacob did run, but he ran in the opposite direction she wanted him to. Just as they were going to collide Jacob leaped over her head, transforming mid-air into a russet-colored wolf nearly the same size as Sam's. I was amazed, having not yet seen him, and I had to wipe my face of it because there was no fucking way anyone would see me amazed to see Jacob Black.
Though, this was a great opportunity. I nudged Embry in the ribs and said excitedly, "Oh my god, it's a real-life brawl, dude. C'mon, we gotta take bets now."
Jared, having heard us but standing stoically like he wasn't a total sleazeball, said, "Paul, hands down."
"Did I ask you?" I said rudely, shrinking back at Sam's glare. "Oh, sorry, Sam."
We fell back into silence, watching Jacob and Paul engage in a stare-down before they flew at each other. Growling and biting and snarling, flinging their large furry bodies all over the fucking place.
Bella was collapsed on the ground, watching them in petrified awe.
Paul and Jacob threw themselves into a boat that was off to the side, destroying it into little bitty pieces, before they went into the woods. Their growls and frenzied fighting could still be heard, even as they disappeared through the trees.
Sam looked over at us. "Hey, take Bella back to mine and Emily's place."
Without outright saying it, we could all infer he was going after the guys to make sure they didn't maim one another too much.
Sam sprinted where the broken boat sat sadly, taking his shoes off as he went, and we were left staring at Bella. She didn't look too great. If anything, she looked like she was in shock, her eyes unmoving and glazed over. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't entertained.
Embry smirked and he was the one to nudge me this time. "Guess the wolf's out of the bag."
"You're a dumbass," I told him. Sharing a large grin, we followed Jared to help the vampire girl up off her feet where we'd then whisk her off to Sam and Emily's place.
Poor girl didn't know what she'd gotten herself into.
A/N: The outline for New Moon is completely mapped, polished, and reviewed. I just got started on Eclipse. Hopefully this helps writing become smooth sailing from now on. It cuts it kinda close making shit up on the spot.
Next chapter will be shorter than usual, as it just deals with telling Bella about shapeshifters. Also, last chapter I accidentally made an error about the dates of the events. When I go and edit the entire book, I'll change that. For now I'll tell you that we're in the beginning of March now; last chapter was in February. Sorry about the mix-up. I'm not completely following canon dates but I try to for the most part.
Btw, I'm using book and movie elements so yes, some scenes may be a mix of both. I preferred the movie's version of Paul and Jacob fighting than the book so that's why I used it instead.
As always, please tell me how you feel! Feedback helps me as a writer. :D
