"Let this dark night be done."
-"Revival," Soulsavers
(after)
"Is there anyone you can think of? Anyone? Anyone who might have wanted to do this to you or your family?"
Deputy Burke— no. Police Chief Burke now— leaned forward with heavy, sad eyes.
What a way to receive a promotion, she thought, in the middle of the night after your boss and his family has died in what is the first murder in your town in decades.
(I can give you a whole species)
Bella sniffed, and touched the itchy gauze on the side of her face.
"No. No one at all."
"I don't understand why we had to move to such a horrid nothing-town."
Rosalie arranges her white flowers in a neat stack next to Edward's much larger stack, the task set to them by Mrs. Finnley.
The old bat is the retired school teacher in charge of the planning for the wake, and she's spent the last hour stalking around and barking orders like a drill sergeant to the group of volunteers, even reducing an already weepy looking girl to tears who is setting out candles at the table next to them. That, combined with Rosalie's constant stream of complaints, has him on his last nerve.
School was more of a drag than usual after he dropped off Bella in the parking lot. Skipping was out of the question, since his last class was with Rosalie and it was not worth the headache it would be if he had left her with no ride. He's spent this entire afternoon schooling his face to a perfect mask of boredom. Not that Rosalie was likely to notice how preoccupied he is but still. It couldn't hurt to practice caution.
Esme is somewhere on the other side of the gymnasium, helping the other teachers set out drinks— hot coffee and hot chocolate for the mourners for after the wake. The setting up is taking place inside while the actual event would be right outside the elementary school, in the cleared-out parking lot. Officers are already marking off the lot. Pouring rain or not, this wake was happening.
Edward grimly arranges the wilting flowers. Carnations were cheap and practical. Roses would be overselling it, according to Mrs. Finnley.
"I mean it," Rosalie continues, "have you ever seen such a joke?"
Rosalie is usually bitter today, even by her standards. Her sour attitude is seeping into Edward's already bad mood and he really wants her to stop talking, even though he silently agrees with everything she is saying.
"All these two-faced grievers," she says, with great sarcasm on the last word, "when you can hear them all squabbling like hens."
Edward huffs in agreement. The majority of the volunteers are mostly comprised of some of the shallowest, small-minded people he's ever had the misfortune of coming across. Maybe it was the perfect storm of circumstances that brought them all out, but the gossip in town had been a rage ever since the Swans were murdered. That was all anyone talked about. People treated this volunteer committee like it was the hottest ticket in town.
He and Rosalie had been volunteered, rather insistently, by Esme. She said she thought it would do them good to be involved, which was really code for get along or I will make you get along. They had been bickering more than usual lately. Rosalie had been annoyed with him ever since he had announced he was leaving and even he couldn't fathom the reason why. She refused to think about it in his presence and over the years, she had—to his great irritation— perfected the skill.
Edward pulls a crusty yellow petal off one of the flowers and flicks it towards Rosalie, who glares at him before rearranging her already perfect stack. Mrs. Finnley catches him and stalks over. She looks over their work with beady eyes and, finding nothing to criticize, stalks off to harass a tired looking teacher dragging chairs. Rosalie glares after her.
Edward is trying not to stare at a small cluster at a table in front of them, all mothers of their classmates, heads put together and clearly gossiping about the incident this morning as they arrange programs. Conspicuously absent from the planning is Mrs. Crowley, who was in charge of making the programs in the first place.
One of the women notices him looking and clearly sits up straighter, looking flustered. He can't resist the impulse to roll his eyes. He automatically drowns out her loud internal chatter— really, he's old enough to be her son. Or her grandfather, depending on how you looked at it.
Her companions notice her distraction and look over to see Edward watching. He drops his gaze, but he can hear very clearly, both mentally and audibly, as their conversation veers away from Bella and Tyler and towards him and his family, their eyes flicking back and forth between he and Rosalie.
Think they're too good to mingle with the rest of us…
Think they're better than the rest of us just because they're rich and beautiful…
And the wife, so high and mighty, won't come to any of my lunch invites, what a two-faced bi—
He stops listening.
"Really, it's enough to drive anyone insane," he thinks aloud.
Rosalie snorts. "Are you talking about Bella Swan?"
Edward tries his best not to look defensive.
"Obviously."
Rosalie snorts again.
"Wish I could've seen that. I've been fantasizing about doing it myself."
"Why?"
"He asked me to the Winter Formal. Dick."
Edward laughs out loud at that, which she does not find amusing. She stalks off in a huff towards the bathrooms— abandoning her half-finished work— where Edward knows she will make her escape through the window.
Edward sighs at the unfinished pile of carnations they still have to get through. It's not a challenge at all but it's so tedious to do at a human speed. He could be doing much better things.
He can't find it in himself to feel any particular amount of enthusiasm for the wake— Rose was right. It's a sham. It's a chance for all of Forks to get together and pretend to mourn what they consider to be the most exciting thing to ever happen to them in years. The town is buzzing for all the wrong reasons.
Besides. He knows Bella won't be here today, which makes the whole thing very uninteresting.
"Where did your sister go?"
Esme comes up behind his shoulder, taking Rosalie's place, stripping off dead leaves and wilting petals and adding them to the growing stack with much more efficiency than either he or Rosalie have managed in the past two hours.
"You can't expect Rose to do menial labor for very long. It's very middle-class."
Esme sighs. He waits.
"I heard what happened today… at the school."
Edward, once again, tries not to seem to bothered.
"I never took you as a gossip, Mother," he teases gently.
"It's all too easy to pick up on things when one can hear across rooms," she says with an impish grin.
They continue sorting the flowers in silence for a moment. He waits for her to ask.
What really happened? She asks silently, much more seriously.
He tells her. He tells her the words Tyler left on her locker, about the people who were goading her along all day, the way she slammed the book into his face and how she lost her balance when Mr. Mason pulled her away and how she hurt herself too. He tells her everything he can about the first part of the day— the second part, the part where he drove Bella in his car, he keeps to himself.
It relieves some small part of the tension he's holding inside his head, being able to commiserate with his mother on how every shallow, cruel teenager just gets on his last nerve. Esme listens to his frustrated rant from beginning to end with no interruption.
"Psycho baby killer. He wrote that on her locker. Can you believe it?"
"How awful," she says quietly. "One would think there would be a little more compassion for someone so clearly in pain."
"We can't all be like you. You put us all to shame," he teases, trying to steer the conversation away from Bella.
"If not compassion, then decency," Esme says fiercely, ignoring his attempts as redirection. "It is enough to make anyone reach their breaking point."
He thinks he might be imagining it but Esme flashes him a look. It's gone before he can wonder about it.
"And what does Bella think about all this?"
Esme nods her head, gesturing at the hustle around them.
The chairs are set up, the tables laden with refreshment, programs, and candles. The flowers lie in neat stacks around them, now finished. The high school choir has arrived for the rehearsal where they will practice their arrangement of Amazing Grace. Esme's elementary class will arrive with their parents later, where they will observe as a group. Nessie Swan's old classmates.
He slyly avoids Esme's direct question; he wouldn't be able to say what Bella was thinking even if she were standing right next to him.
"She won't be here tonight."
Esme sighs sadly.
"I wish I could say I didn't understand why."
Edward can't help but agree, when he hears someone across the room distinctly say, you'd think she'd tone it down if she were trying to look innocent.
Someone laughs.
The wake kicks off exactly at 6 pm. People have been gathering since four. He fidgets by the entrance where Alice had bullied him into handing out the stack of programs she was in charge of. There's not much point. The pouring rain will turn the stack into a pile of mush before long. Probably why Alice couldn't be bothered, now that he thinks about it.
His family is scattered around the crowd, their usual arrangement in their rare public outings. They had all agreed, long ago, they looked too strange to be standing next to each other in large gatherings.
"Welcome," he says, handing programs to people walking by. He thought enjoy would be too morbid, even for him. And he's under Esme's strict orders to be decent tonight.
You can't blame them all for the actions of a few, Edward, remember that.
He disagrees.
Almost all of Forks has turned up tonight, much more people than he had expected. The incident with Tyler Crowley has spread like wildfire in the span of just a few hours and he can tell it must have contributed to more people showing up than expected. He can feel it in the air and read it in their minds— everyone is keeping their eyes peeled for the star attraction.
Where is Bella Swan?
It's the question on everyone's minds right now.
There is a hum in the air, an excitement that makes him sick. People call out to each other, shouting greetings across the lot, laughter and chatter echoing before the event kicks off. He keeps his eyes peeled for Miriam, the waitress from the diner. He doesn't even try to find her through the chatter in his mind. He hands out the programs as quickly as he can, staring uninterestedly at huddled old ladies, a group of chatty teens, a tall man in a dark coat who is standing back watching everyone, and old familiar faces, people who've lived here for generations and generations.
"Welcome. Welcome. Welcome."
Thunder booms overhead. He hears the speaker blow out across the lot and Chief Burke, who is supposed to speak first, curses loudly. Esme is herding together her classroom with Emmett's help and Carlisle is supposed to arrive sometime soon from the hospital. Rosalie and Alice are standing somewhere off to the side.
He stands by himself for a while as the arrivees start to thin out. He rolls his shoulders, unusually irritated. His nerves are strangely frayed and it's an intense feeling he is unused to. He knows why. He is deliberately not thinking about the morning he had with Bella, not until he is safe in the privacy of his own room.
"What a disaster."
Jasper appears out of nowhere, sliding next to him.
"Hmmm," he replies, tossing the remaining stack of programs on the ground.
Chief Burke attempts to gather the crowd, his voice crackling on the microphone that is cutting in and out with the wind.
"Please— beginning to— everyone— today—"
Dozens of flowers are littered on the ground already, petals destroyed by the wind. The candles keep blowing out, despite best efforts to shield them from rain and wind. The few chairs are being knocked over as well and people shiver and huddle, waiting for a choir performance they won't hear.
"Good effort though," Jasper says carelessly. He wanders to the outskirts of the crowd where he, unnoticed by anyone, disappears into the trees.
But Edward knows his brother and he knows that for all his nonchalance, Jasper can't bear the crowd any better than he can. It's actually worse for Jasper than it is for him, having to feel everything they would be feeling secondhand. He is notorious for avoiding large gatherings.
"Boo."
Edward feels his jaw immediately stiffen in irritation. Great. So much for avoiding her.
"So, I saw something very interesting today…"
Alice dances up next to him, taking up the spot where Jasper just left. Do they plan these things? She is fiddling with a piece of paper, a tiny black line of handwriting written on it.
"You'll need this. Not sure why, but I do get a feeling."
Edward just sighs. "Why?"
"Because you love me and would do anything for me?"
"Alice," Edward finally snaps, "what the hell do I need to be going over there for?"
"You already know."
"Then I should clarify. Why would I want to?"
"Come on," Alice says, finally starting her wheedling. "He lost a friend too. Just go there and be nice for a little bit."
"So I assume I drew the short straw?"
Alice rolls her eyes. "It just makes sense. I'm blind, Carlisle will be busy with the car accident in an hour, Jasper's too intimidating, Emmett would just be looking for a fight, and Esme has the kids to worry about today."
"And Rose?"
"Doesn't want to."
He kicks the mud in sheer bafflement over how everyone in his family can be so annoying at the same time. Alice frowns.
"It's not like he's a danger."
Edward glares. "It's not him I'm worried about."
Alice purses her lips. "The dogs won't violate the ceasefire. Not today, at least."
"Okay, you definitely don't know that."
Alice grins. "But you're doing it."
"No."
"You are," she sings. She neatly folds the paper in a tiny triangle and shoves it into his coat pocket in a second.
"Make sure you shower when you come back. Twice."
"I will," he mutters darkly. "Right after I roll around in Rosalie's pillows."
When he gets to the town limit of Forks and approaches that imaginary line that marks the beginning of the reservation, he is unsurprised to find the armada waiting for him there.
"I hate you, Alice."
His phone buzzes.
:)
He sighs and inches his foot on the gas. He drives slowly over the line, feeling the crawling animal anxiety of being cornered on the wrong territory. He decides to drive to Billy Black's house. Driving instead of running might not help them feel less threatened, but he figures it's the gesture that counts.
"Afternoon, Uley," he mutters.
He doesn't bother putting any cordiality in his voice, he knows it won't change any of their hostility towards him, no matter what he does.
The wolf running parallel to his car, obscured by dark forest, growls low in its throat. His foot is itching to slam the petal and race the dog, but he restrains himself. He'll be good today, if only for the sake of not disappointing Esme. The large black dog's paws thud heavily on the ground and behind that, he can hear two other rapid heartbeats racing after their alpha.
Bloodsucking leech.
Edward grins darkly. Paul can goad all he wants for all he cares, he's not the one taking orders from a dog.
Despite his good-mannered driving, he is pulling into Billy Black's muddy drive in less than five minutes.
Stepping out of his car into the middle of La Push is no less of a shock than it was a year ago. He stares at the length of mysterious dark forest that surrounds him like something out of a fairytale, the only place in the entire world that was barred to him only a year ago. Even the air feels different here— something intangible and indefinable that hovers in the air. La Push is… mystical. Paranormal even. Though he's certain the three large werewolves stepping out of the clearing have something of a contributing factor.
Sam Uley stalks out of the dark forest in his wolf form, his large dark eyes staring straight into Edward's, never faltering. The other two— Paul and Jared, Edward remembers— hang further back along the edge guarding Sam's back, their glinting eyes reflecting strangely off Billy Black's porch light.
He doesn't have to be a mind reader to understand the threat inherent in Sam's eyes.
Tread carefully, Cullen.
Even in Sam's thoughts, the name comes out like an insult.
The boy has no idea.
Edward watches all three wolves take off into the forest, where he knows they will lurk until he leaves their territory. They're all rather overdramatic.
"I remember," he says into the night, rolling his eyes.
Walking up to Billy Black's residence takes a bit more courage than facing down three werewolves. He hesitates, hand over the door, before he knocks as politely as he can.
"It's open!"
He frowns, then makes his way in.
He only met the child once in parting exactly a year ago and he hadn't been too concerned with him then. Now he frowns at the strange images flashing in succession from the boy's mind before he even rounds the tiny hallway that leads into the living room— strange yellow cartoon characters he thinks he's seen somewhere before. The boy— Jacob Black— is laughing at the television.
"Embry what are— oh. Oh shit."
Jacob Black turns from where he is sprawled on the couch and sits up, his bag of chips flying all over the carpet. His eyes are comically wide and he looks behind Edward, as if expecting to see the entire family behind him.
"Um. Hello."
Jacob can't seem to stop staring with his mouth hanging open. Edward gets the first proper look at the future pack alpha. He has to admit, there's not much to be impressed by.
All he can see is a lanky, overgrown teenage boy who moves like he just grew very much in a short span of time and doesn't know how to coordinate all the extra growth yet. Jacob trips over his feet getting up and, after a pause, clumsily steps over the fallen chips to reach for the remote and press mute, at the same time muttering something about "old man" and "dementia."
A freaking Cullen in my house. Again. Guess hell froze over or the old man finally went crazy.
"I'm Jacob," he says, giving an awkward little wave. "Dunno if you remember. Hi."
"Edward. I remember."
It's hard not to be amused by Jacob, who is looking like he doesn't know what to do from here. He's about to speak and break the awkward silence when—
"DAD— IT'S FOR YOU," Jacob calls loudly enough to make him wince.
"We're back here," Billy Black's smooth voice calls from the kitchen.
We're?
"They're in the kitchen," Jacob says with a roll of his eyes. Edward is confused by his annoyance and starts to listen for the reason when it immediately occurs to him—
He can only hear two minds in this house.
Shit. Shit.
He rounds the corner, his feet compelled to move without his permission.
"Ah. I thought Carlisle might send one of you up. I was expecting Esme, in all honesty," Billy says, with a twinkle in his eyes. Sitting directly across from him is—
"Bella and I were just doing some weaving here," Billy explains in an easy tone that betrays none of his unease, if there even is any, Edward wouldn't know, he can't focus on anything other than—
Bella, who is sitting at the table clutching a truly horrible mess of tangled wire and decorative feathers with white hands, looking at Edward with wide eyes like she just got caught doing something wrong and is waiting to be reprimanded for it.
Forget Billy Black, forget the future pack alpha, forget the three giant wolves lurking outside, the animal response thrumming through his body right now can only be the true response of a predator who just met its true natural animal rival.
How could he have ever doubted it?
"Am I allowed in now or are you two still gossiping over whatever it is you two gossip about," Jacob asks in a grumpy voice right behind his left shoulder.
"I actually have to go," Bella mumbles.
She stands and awkwardly begins to gather her things, including the strange half-wire-feather thing that is haphazardly bound together with twine.
"Wait," Billy says. "Take this one."
He wheels over to a drawer and pulls out a much more refined ornament of the same material, which Edward can now see is meant to be a dreamcatcher.
"Yours will need a bit more practice if you want it to work," Billy says with a grin.
Bella blushes deeply but takes it, her eyes nervously skirting from Billy to Edward and back to Billy, but with a slight split-second smile towards Billy that could be earnest.
"Thanks," she stammers, "And… thanks for the kidnapping, I guess."
Bella is darting behind him and around the corner before he can even try to work out what that means.
Billy turns his chair towards Edward and smiles genially, but with Bella gone, there is an edge behind it that wasn't there before.
"Jacob," he calls smoothly, his eyes never leaving Edward's, "Bella needs a ride back to her place."
"On it," his bored voice calls from the living room.
Jacob's mind is alight with curiosity— it seems he wasn't invited to Bella and Billy's little sit down. Edward can hear his plans to interrogate her the minute he gets her alone.
"Grab some milk on the way back, would you?" Billy's dark eyes glint as Edward narrows his in suspicion. What is it he doesn't want his son to hear?
"Fine," Jacob grumbles.
The two of them stand in the kitchen silently, appraising each other, listening for the front screen slamming and the roar of the ignition firing up.
Billy seems to relax minutely as the car peels out. He wheels himself to the other side of the room and begins bustling around the kitchen, spinning around smoothly with expert ease.
Edward is reminded irresistibly of Jasper's field tactics— never approach the enemy on their own turf.
It only now occurs to him that he shouldn't have acted so weird around Bella. Particularly around Billy Black, who would be privy to that kind of thing, especially seeing as how—
He freezes.
Especially seeing how close Billy and Charlie Swan were.
"Would you like some coffee? I know your— kind don't partake but it always feels rude not to ask."
"You know."
It's no question and he feels so stupid for not even considering it in the first place.
Billy Black knows and of course he knows. What other enemy would a vampire share against a hunter?
Wolves.
The enemy of an enemy is a friend.
"Know what," Billy says, and he doesn't even try to make it sound like a question. Even he knows the game is up and there is no point in trying to pretend with the other anymore. They know. They both know.
But even so, Edward is who he is, so he pries into Billy's thoughts with the force of a jackhammer to be absolutely certain.
Billy Black does not think in words or phrases but rather strong, intuitive emotion. All Edward can pick up on is the strong sense of protectiveness surrounding Bella in his thoughts, but it's directed somehow.
It's not that Billy believes Bella is not safe from him. It's that he believes Bella is not safe from him.
Because it's Bella who has reason to be harmed. Not because of what he is but because of what she is.
It's a slight— but necessary— distinction.
Billy Black knows exactly what Bella Swan is. He knows who and what was sitting in his kitchen. It is running through his mind with a certain type of resignation.
It is a strange and rare feeling that only occurs once or twice in a lifetime. That feeling when the whole world rearranges itself— every truth, every belief, every certainty he thought he once knew, tips over and shatters in a millisecond, leaving behind a dark and unfamiliar world in its wake, one brimming with not only uncertainty but… possibility. A switch from walking dormant to a violent, brilliant state of awake. He felt it once when he was changed.
He feels it again now.
Billy Black takes no notice of Edward's internal breakdown. He wheels himself forward to the table, clutching his cup of coffee like a weapon. He gestures to the seat in front of him with hard eyes.
"Sit. And we can discuss this like rational beings."
Edward feels positively vibrating with some emotion he can't name. Excitement? Dread? Fear?
Billy Black calmly regards him and takes a sip of his coffee. His completely and ironically black coffee, Edward thinks with a tinge of hysteria.
He takes a somewhat shaky inhale and takes the seat across from Billy. He fidgets in his black coat and suit, feeling completely overdressed in Billy's shabby little kitchen. Which is not what he's supposed to be focusing on right now.
"Let's talk. Please. We have until Jacob returns with half a grocery store, minus the milk."
Billy leans back in his chair, looking entirely too calm for the situation, Edward thinks. The world has just changed. Nothing and everything is real, a new species has emerged and Billy, tribal chief to the Quileutes, is sitting and drinking coffee across from him like the world didn't just explode.
But fair. Two can play at that game and Edward has been playing long before Billy Black's grandfather was walking this earth on all fours.
"You know," he repeats, narrowing his eyes at the old man.
Billy stares back.
"And so do you."
Billy puts his mug down on the wooden table with slightly too much force. He slides his hands back to grip tightly at the edge of the table and Edward notices there is a distinct tinge of anxiety in his thoughts. There is concern, real concern, for Bella there.
He tries not to think about that awful night a year ago. The look on Billy's face when he found out about his friends and that everyone except Bella was dead.
"The only question here is what you are planning to do about it."
Edward stays silent, watching Billy consider him. Listening to the thoughts that Billy is trying so very hard not to think about.
Charlie Swan rolling in his grave, breathing fire, shaking the earth, his only living daughter dangling through life on the whims of an ancient, blood-drinking monster—
Bella must be protected, is the final mantra running though Billy's head before Billy shuts him out entirely.
The old man has more control than most and Edward cannot help but be impressed in the middle of his intimidation. Their magic, or whatever made up the Quileutes, was older than even him. It shone in Billy's eyes right now and he would not win against it.
"Obviously your coven doesn't know. Or at least, not all of them. Otherwise, I'd expect Bella wouldn't have made it past the line. Or…" Billy's fists grip tighter, "you and your kind are planning to maul her the second she makes it back into your territory."
At those words, Edward hears the distant sound of thudding paws in the forest outside take off toward Forks. He bristles, feeling slightly out of control with this whole situation.
"There isn't any threat—"
"Or," Billy cuts across him, "there is some unknown reason you have not thought to share that information with your coven."
Billy watches his every expression carefully, and all he can do is stare openly back.
He thinks about the truth.
It was never in the plan to kill Bella. Watch her, track her, never turn his back on her, yes, yes and yes. But kill? That option fled his mind before he could even consider it and he hasn't even had the privacy or the time to even sit and consider why exactly that wasn't in the plan in the first place.
He has never felt so unsure about what to do with his face.
But whatever expression is on it, Billy seems to see something and come to some kind of conclusion. He exhales heavily, the outpouring of relief strong even from where Edward is sitting.
"Sam," Billy mutters, wiping off his forehead. "Call them off."
Edward listens for the sound of Sam to take off after the other two wolves but strangely, he stays in place. Did the other wolves hear Billy too somehow? He'll have to reevaluate how far they can hear across distances.
"It was never the plan to tell them," Edward says smoothly. Whether or not it's a lie, he doesn't know.
Billy purses his lips.
"Hmm. And what does that say about your family? That you cannot trust them to not murder an 18-year-old girl the second they learn she might be… more than ordinary?"
Edward coolly brushes off the veiled insult with a flick of his fingers.
"You make it sound as if she has an aptitude for spelling, rather than she has the capability to slaughter me and my entire family if she so wishes."
Billy flinches and Edward tastes the sharp scent of fear in the air.
"You have a point. But what do you plan to do about that?" Billy asks tensely, fingers going white.
Edward shrugs his shoulders carefully.
"I only just found out today. As for informing my family, I hadn't gotten that far yet."
Billy grits his teeth, looking like he's not sure whether or not to believe him. Edward stares calmly back, using every bit of his mastered poker face.
They stare silently for a moment, at a standstill, before Billy seems to come to some mental decision.
He sighs heavily, the wrinkles on his face collapsing to reveal a stressed, weary man who (Edward realizes stupidly too late) just had an entire day of grieving. An entire year. And with him, at least, Edward has no doubt his grief is genuine.
"Edward," Billy says heavily, deflating, "I admit I do not want to spend this evening trading insults between our… kinds… especially after all this work at reconciliation. And especially not today."
Edward drops his gaze to the tabletop, at the mess of twine and feathers still on top.
"A year ago, we worked together to stop a horrible evil. Were it not for that, I would be ordering Sam to take Bella and run. I would be calling war over our heads. I would send my people to the death and you would send yours. There would be war between us and we would both lose. Greatly."
Billy takes a deep, careful breath and continues.
"And I would do that all. Not just to protect Bella. But to protect any human from the kind of viciousness that comes with the killing of an innocent. You may not wish to hurt the girl and I think I believe that you don't. I do not know this to be true with the rest."
"They wouldn't," Edward says quickly. Then he thinks of Jasper and says, "Carlisle wouldn't let them."
Billy narrows his eyes at the admission. "So some of them would try?"
Edward grits his teeth, mentally cursing his slip. "It's irrelevant. None of them know what she is."
"So my only reassurance that she will be safe is that you will not tell them? That they will not find out?"
Edward bites his lip, defeated. Billy had a point there. He wonders if, were the situations reversed, he'd trust the wolves to do the same.
It's a quick and painful no.
Edward can't even bring himself to challenge it. For what reason? What good would it do to reassure Billy that harming Bella was never in the plan? What could he possibly say that would make him believe anything he says?
As if Alice sent the thought straight through miles of dense forest straight into his head— he remembers the folded piece of paper in his coat pocket.
He never did read it or even try to surmise what it was for but he mentally throws up his hands and pulls it out anyway, a complete shot in the dark.
"Would this help at all?"
Billy frowns at the tiny folded piece of paper. He takes it carefully, making absolute certain, as always, that he does not even brush against Edward's fingers.
He unfolds it and frowns, reading carefully. He squints up at Edward when he's done and, after a brief hesitation, slides it back over to him.
Curiosity peaking, he reads it quickly. Then frowns.
Plan for three.
He flips it over. Nothing on the back.
"From Alice, I assume?" Billy's voice is absolutely neutral.
"Yes."
There is a tense moment where Billy just stares with nothing on his face. Edward counts the seconds.
"Alright. You have my trust. For now."
Edward blinks, stunned.
"Just one thing before you leave— it seems we are all evenly aware about each other— except one. Make sure Bella knows that you know what she is. Make it clear she should be watching her back."
He frowns, trying not to take offense.
"But I give my word. I'll keep her secret."
"Regardless. Tell her. Or I will. I doubt she'll find your word all that reassuring."
He drives home and— after rolling in Rosalie's satin pillows as promised— he takes three hot showers, reorganizes his music collection, deftly avoids his family coming home from the wake, wipes every window in the house clean— on both sides— vacuums every inch of his room, the stairs, the hallways (much to Emmett's great confusion), reorganizes his reorganized music collection, changes his clothes for the fifth time, takes another boiling shower, and finally, when he can't avoid it anymore, collapses on his bed and thinks about what the hell he is going to do.
Hunter.
Hunter.
Hunter.
Edward mouths the word soundlessly, over and over again, safe in the privacy of his room, until it doesn't sound like a real word.
It's strange, but underneath the obvious predator defensiveness he feels at the knowledge that there exists something threatening to his existence, his family's existence, not three miles away— he feels an undeniable excitement.
Something was happening.
Something was happening to him.
After all, it's him who holds this precious knowledge. It is his to choose what to do with it.
And what he wants to do is dangerous. What he wants to do is see what happens when he bites the bullet and tells Bella her secret is secret no longer.
He imagines how he would do it.
He could corner her at school. He could show up unannounced at her apartment he hears she lives in on the other side of town. He could wait by her truck. He could slide her a note in Biology. He could wait until lunch when the witnesses around them would be at its peak, wait until they were surrounded by the innocent precious humans that he knows she would not risk. But every option is risky. He can imagine them all easily ending in bloodshed.
It's whose blood that he isn't sure about.
"You done cleaning?"
Edward lifts his head from where he is sprawled on his bed. Emmett tentatively peeks behind his open door, eyes narrowed suspiciously at the unusually uncluttered floor of Edward's room.
"Yep."
Emmett heaves a dramatic sigh of relief.
"Oh good. I was worried you'd make me help."
Emmett grins as he easily ducks the pillow Edward launches his way. Then he does something out of the norm— he pads silently across the plush golden carpet and sits on the end of Edward's bed, uncharacteristically serious.
"Is there something wrong that I don't know about?"
Edward stills, shocked at such a weird question.
"What makes you say that?"
Emmett shrugs. "I dunno… you've just been— I dunno."
"What?"
"Just—" Emmett releases all his breath in one big whoosh. "You've been acting— off. It makes me feel like— maybe there's something I've missed? Something everyone else knows that I don't?"
He hears— both in Emmett's voice and his thoughts— that old insecurity of Emmett's resurface. That everyone else has caught on to something that he was just too slow to get.
Edward pauses, considering something else even more worrisome. If even Emmett, the most unobservant and unbothered of their small family, has noticed his strange behavior to the point that he felt the need to have a sit down with him about it— then he wasn't doing a good enough job at keeping them all in the dark.
And it is imperative, now more than ever, that they stay in the dark.
Billy Black's eyes narrow at him from somewhere in his mind.
He smiles widely— false and reassuring— at his brother.
"Look. I've just been organizing some things. I'm leaving soon and I just have to get everything ready."
"That's it?" Emmett frowns.
"Yep. That's it. Nothing dire, I promise."
Emmett frowns, considering this. Then he smiles widely at Edward, all worries immediately gone, swallowing the lie almost too easily. Edward only feels the tiniest twinge of guilt. It's easier than he would have believed to lie, even to Emmett, who would believe that the sky was actually green instead of blue if it was his brother who told him so.
He swallows down the guilt at the small betrayal of trust between them. If he was going to keep his word that Bella Swan's secret would stay secret, this was just the first of many betrayals he would make to his family.
He tries to ignore the deepening sense of foreboding as Emmett easily changes the subject to grill him on his uneventful (or so Edward claims) visit to La Push.
(one year ago)
Forks is awake.
The smell of the burning house drifted all over Forks— at least that what it seemed like to him but he could smell the smoke, the ash, the soot in the air all around him. His enhanced smell screamed with it, even as he ran through the forest like a shrieking ghost, thinking oh god don't let me be too late.
In the distance, a wolf howled.
His phone buzzed.
Carlisle has her, the text from Alice read.
Hurry.
He launched himself into the clearing where Emmett was already face to face with the largest black wolf he had ever seen in his life.
Emmett's snarls were ripping out of his chest and the wolf was on its hackles, ready to attack but it was clear that he— Sam Uley, Edward gathered frantically— realized he was desperately outnumbered. His large black eyes seemed painfully young.
"Stop! It wasn't us! It wasn't us!"
Esme shot out the trees behind him and ran straight between the wolf and Emmett, her hands out placatingly between them, her eyes frantic with panic— panic for Emmett, for the treaty, for the clear red haze that colored the sky only a few miles away.
Oh god oh god oh god oh god—
Edward listened instead, as hard as he could, for the rest of his family.
Rosalie and Jasper where running somewhere on the other side of Forks, tracking. Carlisle had one of the girls, Edward did not yet know which one had lived.
Alice was hovering in the middle, somewhere between all of it, watching, waiting, listening.
He could barely hear over the distance. It seemed like all of Forks was awake, screaming at the top of their lungs—
Dispatch 902, fire reported at 184 6th Street, please approach with caution—
Sweetie, get away from the window—
Smoke, do you smell that? Wake up! Why does it smell like smoke—
Oh god what the hell is that noise—
We can't put it out, why the fuck won't it go out—
He zoned in on that voice. The police force was attempting to get closer to the blazing inferno that was swallowing the Swan residence whole. The fire ripped and scorched the house, the trees nearby catching and branches swinging towards the ground dangerously close to where Fork's single fire truck was attempting to put out the blaze.
The fire was so consuming it roared in the mind of the young officer, trying to hold the hose.
They're still in there— oh my fucking god, they're still in there—
He snapped back to reality at the sound of snapping jaws. Sam Uley had lunged at Esme's outstretched hand.
"NO!"
Emmett was terrifying. He had forgotten that somehow, in those quiet years.
His brother roared so loudly that it echoed in all directions like a gunshot. He lunged forward like a bullet and collided with the wolf, jumping at its back, grasping at the animal's neck, trying to keep the snapping jaws away from Esme. The wolf whined low in his throat before reaching behind and snapping at Emmett, trying to catch his face in a jaw that could crack stone.
"STOP!" Esme screamed at the same time Edward shouted, "SAM!"
Both Emmett and the wolf froze— Emmett in anticipation and Sam in shock— and Edward rushed on, desperate to get the point across.
"It wasn't us. There were two outsiders passing through— their names are James and Victoria. They attacked without warning. We had no idea."
The wolf shook Emmett off, who allowed himself to slide off the wolf's back. He rushed to Esme's side and crouched protectively in front of her. Esme just met Edward's eyes with wide, frantic eyes. He stepped forward closer to the wolf, who instinctively snapped. He stilled and reached out a steady hand, trying to look nonthreatening as possible.
"Your territory is compromised. They likely passed through here. We can help you, before they attack anyone else tonight."
"We have their scent," Esme cut in. She stepped forward, pulling the grass-stained baseball shirt that Victoria had been wearing that evening with them at the clearing.
The memory made him sick.
The wolf hesitated, resting on his back legs, clearly ready to lunge backwards into the forest at any unsudden move. Esme stepped forward carefully, hand extended towards Sam's snout. Emmett made a low anxious sound in his throat and Edward could see why— it would be all too easy for the wolf to reach out and tear Esme's arm from her socket.
He can still remember the sight so clearly, like those long-forgotten nightmares he used to have— Esme's pale arm, almost glowing in the dim light, extended to a huge wolf with canines the size of daggers, the smell of smoke hovering all around them.
The wolf stepped forward slowly, his eyes dancing from vampire to vampire until he gave one tentative sniff.
He whined low in his throat, stepped backwards on his hind legs, and howled.
They seemed to glide like shrieking wraiths through the forest, side by side with a wolf from any child's worst nightmare. Monsters prowled Forks tonight.
Edward ran as fast as a bullet, the head of the group, straining to hear something, anything, that would disprove everyone's worst fear.
That James and Victoria were long gone.
Eventually they stopped— he, Esme, and Emmett— automatically, right at the imaginary line that separated Forks and La Push.
The wolf galloped almost 50 feet ahead of them before jerking to a stop, spraying mud and tufts of grass everywhere. Sam looked confused at their sudden halt before looking around them with sudden realization. He froze, conflicted, until suddenly and unexpectedly, he did something that no wolf had done in generations, maybe ever.
He nudged his head, beckoning them forward.
Follow.
Edward turned to his mother with wide eyes and Emmett did the same on her other side. They waited for her to make the decision.
Esme swallowed tentatively, then took that impossible first step onto their absolute forbidden territory. Edward and Emmett copied slowly, as if worried they would burst into flame on contact.
Sam huffed impatiently and bobbed his head again. They snapped out of their daze, pushing through the haze that made everything so dreamlike (so nightmarish) and the hunt was on once again.
They pushed through miles of forest, circling back. They combed the pitch-black beaches, the frigid and vicious water that crashed against the wide jagged cliffs of La Push and emerged soaking and unsuccessful. Rosalie and Jasper reported the same from the other side of Forks. Any trail of them was long gone, washed away in the sleet and rain.
They had failed.
"Is the girl still alive?" Esme asked numbly from his side.
The three of them stood silent and dripping on the coastline, under strict orders from Sam not to move while he gathered the elders for word on what to do next. It seemed like they had stood in their own quiet eternity for hours while they could do nothing but wait, watching the unforgiving tide sweep across their legs, the rocky sand biting their bare feet.
Just last week, there was a party here. He overheard Mike Newton ask Bella if she was going, from across the cafeteria. He never did find out if she went or not.
"I don't know."
He remembers, for the first time in an eternity, feeling a whisper of memory a hundred years old.
Cold.
The elders were gathered at Billy Black's house.
They followed Sam in his human form through the unfamiliar dark forest, somehow more lush, more dense, than Forks less than a few miles away. All urgency was gone from their movements, failure hanging over all their heads like an axe. It did no good to hurry now. All that was left was to put out the fire, recover the bodies, pray to their long-forgotten deities that the girl would push through surgery.
He was losing track of whose thoughts were whose, a strange exhaustion making everything hazy.
(they smiled, laughed together, extended a hand towards those who would rip a family to shreds—)
They stepped into a clearing, a tiny patch of muddy grass flooded weakly with yellow artificial light from Billy Black's porch light.
Edward watched numbly as the Quileute chief wheeled forward into the porch— even the sight of six dripping vampires secondary on his mind— reached Sam, put his head into his hands, and wept.
They stood silently, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice quietly joining the other three as they stood and waited to be acknowledged. He could hear the quiet, serious murmurings inside the house behind them but made no effort to listen to what was being said. He stood there with his family, jarringly out of place, even their pale skin like a beacon signaling to all a reminder of the unforgivable crime committed this night.
They stared at the ground, tactfully avoiding the sight of Billy's tears and Sam crouched down next to him, speaking quietly and clutching at his chief's shoulder.
Esme's phone vibrated quietly, breaking the spell.
Billy and Sam looked up with reddened eyes, the quiet murmuring stopped from inside the house, and all vampires turned to their matriarch, waiting for the verdict.
The world hung on the phone in Esme's hand, her eyes burning as Carlisle spoke on the other end.
She spoke quickly, hung up the phone, and looked to the chief with something like victory shining in her eyes.
"It was Bella Swan. She pulled through."
It was strange, and Edward could see it affecting Billy Black specifically, to celebrate one girl's survival while mourning the others. It was all they had been sure of— only one was pulled out of the fire alive. Edward could feel it in his thoughts— Billy did not know who he was hoping for and now it was too late to know. It would always be too late.
"Is she hurt?"
Esme gazed directly at Billy, compassion deep in her voice.
"Yes. The fire was significant."
"But she will recover?" Sam asked in his deep, commanding voice.
Esme bowed her head. "My husband will ensure it."
Sam rounded towards them, stepping forward slowly, his eyes darkening impossibly further. He was taller than every single one of them. Even Emmett.
"So… she didn't die. She'll just wish that she had."
"Sam," Billy sighed, in a voice that sounded a hundred years old.
Esme stiffened, straightening up. Of all the vampires in the clearing, Sam addressed her. She was the one in the middle, the one the others hovered around. She was the one who stepped forward over the line. She was the one who delivered the verdict. She was the one who held the grass-stained shirt in her hand.
The crime demanded answer. Demanded blood. It was the only thing on which their two separate species could ever reach a mutual understanding.
Both wolf and vampire stared each other down. There were those few long, tense seconds that exist only before a war is declared before a small figure stepped forward in Edward's periphery, shoulders hunched and head low.
"It was my fault," Alice said in a tiny voice.
"Alice, no it wasn't," Esme said consolingly, a hand extending towards her shoulder.
"Don't say that," Jasper said immediately, rushing forward to stand by her, wary eyes on Sam a few feet away from her.
"It wasn't," Edward said quietly.
She looked up at this, at Edward, and he could only meet his sister's eyes and understand that they had both failed. A mind-reader and a fortune teller. What possible reason could they give for their failure?
"How do you have their scent?" Sam demanded.
"They passed through earlier this evening," Esme explained quickly. "We made an attempt towards civilized interaction. It is our custom to do this whenever others of our kind pass through here. It's important that they understand our survival here depends on them refusing to hunt in the area."
"Yes, so civilized that they tore a little girl apart hours later," Sam snapped.
"We had no way of knowing," Esme said, sounding close to tears if that were possible. "They seemed amiable enough."
"Something must have changed their course at the very last minute," Alice said quietly.
They all looked up at that, the vampires with dawning realization and the wolf with frustration.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam snapped.
Alice stepped forward once again, brushing off Jasper's restraining hand. She looked tiny in the shadow of the wolf.
"I can see the future. Glimpses, at least, when someone's course of action is decided. It can change on a whim."
She gestured towards him.
"And Edward can read minds."
Sam looked between them both, fury draining away to suspicion, looking as if he wasn't sure whether or not to believe them.
"How do you think I knew your name?" Edward asked, finally breaking the silence. "How do you think we grew aware of the hunt? Alice saw it. I heard it."
"I could only feel that something was very wrong," Alice said in a small voice. "I couldn't tell exactly what was going on. Everything was fuzzy, everything was uncertain."
She shook her head back and forth, her eyes a million miles away.
"I'm sorry."
"Wait," Sam snapped. "You are saying you have these— these abilities— and you let them pass through anyway?"
"That is what we are trying to tell you," Edward snapped back, his stress finally breaking through. "There was no indication anything was wrong. We never would have let them pass if we did. That is why Alice said that something… something must have altered their course last minute."
His family looked at each other over Alice's bowed head, identical expressions of worry on their faces. This was the first time in almost 90 years that Alice had been fallible and they didn't know why.
"So…" Sam said, coming to some kind of conclusion, "a fortune teller and a mind reader failed to see this coming."
Edward shivers at the echo of his own thoughts.
"I'm sorry," Alice says again.
Edward frowned at his sister. She was struggling more than anyone else could see. Her mind was a spiral of jarring, contradictory visions. She was leaping so quickly from picture to picture that Edward had trouble keeping up. She was trying to see where they went wrong.
"It's your fault," Sam said resolutely, stepping forward.
"NO."
Esme stepped forward fiercely, her eyes scorching. She pushed Alice behind her with a hand on her shoulder and came face to face with the wolf, who moved back with a look of surprise.
"You will not lay blame on either of my children. This is a tragedy, yes, but I will not have you label my children as accomplices to those monsters. My children, who live a life against their very nature to do no harm against humanity. My husband, whose very hands are working to save that little girl's life."
She took another step forward, looking like she was going to set the wolf on fire through fury alone. Sam leaned back, nostrils flaring.
"Do not forget, dog, that it is our very presence that wards this entire peninsula from vampire attacks. I will not have you make a mockery of that effort."
Silence followed his mother's fury, the only sound a shaky exhale of relief from Alice next to him, who sagged with what Edward knew was gratitude. He reached for her hand and gave her a quick squeeze without looking away from the wolf, who was still glaring at Esme but now stood back with an air of intimidation, he could see with satisfaction. Esme glared back, tall and imperious.
"Dad?"
A tiny voice broke the stand-off. They all looked back towards the house where a young boy with long, disheveled hair was standing at the door with wide eyes, looking from face to face in confusion.
"What's going on?"
Billy spoke for the first time.
"Son, go back inside. Please."
"But—"
"Go back inside. Everything is fi—" Billy's voice broke at the last word.
Jacob Black's eyes widened, confusion turning to terror in an instant.
"Come back inside, son," a wavery voice said from inside the house. An elderly man who Edward didn't recognize but assumed must be one of the elders, appeared behind Jacob's shoulder, gently pulling him back in. Jacob went in with one last look at them all.
The arrival of the boy seemed to shake something loose in all of them. Sam seemed to slump, all fight drained from his body. His brothers stared at the ground. Rosalie, who had been silent this entire time on Edward's left, unexpectedly took his other hand in a tight, burning grip.
Billy sighed, already heavy with grief at what was to come.
"Well. You might as well all come inside. We can wait for news together."
A/N: Whew. Finally made it through this one day- now the plot gets rolling, I promise.
I actually got reviews! It warmed my cold, dead heart 3