Chapter 2

Two Years Later

I strode down the damp sidewalk with purpose, although I really wasn't going anywhere special. Forks, Washington. Of all the cities in Washington that we could have headquartered in, we chose Forks, which, if the Washington rain is not enough, we have the zero population and worn buildings to complement it.

At least it's stopped now, but the sky is still that dingy gray, threatening to burst into tears any second. I pause at the crossroad - completely unnecessary, by the way, there's maybe one stray car now and then - for a second and then walk across it, pulling my phone of my jacket pocket.

I'm staring at a dress in a random store window when something in the reflection catches my eye. It's brief, but it leaves me shivering. A slight motion, about five feet behind me: I whip around to nothing. Am I being followed? I half-run down the rest of the sidewalk. Okay. Clear your head. Figure something out. Is it a random stalker or something? I shouldn't have gone out alone. It was such a short distance.

I breathe, and it helps. I slow down and duck into a tiny cafe. Slumping into a chair, I stare at the menu without seeing it. The cafe is almost empty, with a few stragglers. The waitress comes by, and I order the first item I understand, some latte. The door opens, bringing a waft of cold air in. I'm still gazing at nothing when I hear the voice.

The voice. I don't recognize it, but it makes me turn anyway. Musical, but velvety, belonging to someone seemingly divine. I can't see them at first, as the waitress is trying to talk to them. They seem to be refusing everything that she offers them. Finally, she gives up and tries to make a stalk look as good as possible.

My first impression is that the voice couldn't possibly be given to anyone more perfect. A group of three, and they look as if they could have been the younger better-looking siblings of greek gods, two boys, and one girl. The first boy is maybe seventeen or eighteen, lean and as if carved out of stone, with messy bronzish hair, his fingers interlocked with the ones of the girl next to him, with spiky black hair and a cunning expression in the golden eyes that they all seemed to have. The last was the one that left me astounded, maybe nineteen or twenty, with chin-length honey blonde curls, square jaw, and darkly somber face.

The bronze-haired one turned suddenly and caught my eye, his narrowing at me. I hold his gaze curiously, but then shift over slightly to find all of them staring straight at me with strange expressions.

I get up so fast I crash into the waitress, my coffee goes flying. Years and years of being a dancer presented me with quick reflexes, and I catch the mug before it shatters against the floor or too much hot liquid falls on either of us.

I apologize profusely to the confused waitress, before handing her the patterned mug, a stack of tissues from my table as well as a twenty-dollar bill and darting out the door, which tinkles as it slams. It's nighttime now, maybe eight-o-clock. I make another turn, far down into a dark alleyway. Probably not the best idea.

A slight movement stops me in my tracks. I turn towards the now-growing shadow against the brick and offer a reluctant, "Can I help you?"

The person gives a short, musical laugh. The person from the coffee shop?

Whoever it is stepping into view. No, but just as breathtaking, his hair black and straight, his mouth stretched into a vast, cruel smile.

I stay frozen in place, not exactly sure what to do. A part of me yells to run, but another pushes it down, somehow knowing that it will be of no use.

"Were you the one following me?"

"Perceptive," he continues to smile. "Surprising for a human. I'm afraid it won't be so anymore."

"So you're going to kill me?"

"Perceptive and smart. If it's not to much trouble, I believe I will."

He's stepping towards me. I'm calmer than I've ever been though. Scared, nonetheless, but calmer now that he's less unpredictable. I can now ready myself for it.

What the hell is wrong with me? I don't want to die. What could I possibly do? Perceptive. Perceptive questions seem to make him stall...I need to confuse him.

"Well, I was looking to have New York cheesecake before I died, something that surprises most people, as I've been there quite often, but otherwise, if you feel that it's the only way, fine."

He's stopped. Good. "You are strange. Most people protest. It's pointless, of course."

"So you do this often?"

"I do. And now," I blinked and he was next to me. "I think I'd ought to stop stalling. You smell delicious if that helps. You'll make a delicious dinner."

I've frozen again.

A rustle of movement startles me and I turn to see it when I feel sharp pain, which turns excruciating. I sink to my knees, as my neck hurts as if someone stabbed me with a knife. I wait for more, as I am vaguely away that someone has thrown the black-haired figure off of me.

I lie, crumpled against the asphalt, barely aware of the fighting next to me. Then there is silence. Calm.

Then the fire burns and I start screaming.

Short and boring...but I really need to set the scene! Sorry, all of you, the action starts next chapter.

See ya,

Bluebell