North Star
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Chapter Seventeen:
Bella
"Stay away from them, Isabella. That whole family is trouble."
I frown at the phone, perturbed by my mother's sudden urgency. I've discussed my discomfort with Edward and Alice Cullen before, and she's responded with an appropriate degree of concern given the circumstances, but my explanation and recitation of Edward Cullen's efforts in epistolary communication seems to have sparked a new kind of fear in her, and I don't understand why.
"That's the plan," I reply, still perplexed. I'm starting to worry though - more so than I had been, anyway, because Renee isn't the type to freak out without reason. She's too rational, too level-headed for such things, and she's much like Charlie in that sense.
It's probably why they didn't work out as a couple - they're too similar in uncomplimentary ways - but I don't dwell on it. Not only have I grown out of wishing for a perfect, nuclear (re: boring) life, but at present, there are frankly more concerning things to occupy my attention.
"Maybe you should spend some more time on the Reservation," Renee continues, and there's an odd tone to her voice. I've never heard her sound like this, and I half expect her to insist I join her in Florida. "Visit your cousins, help Jacob, start those dance lessons we were talking about."
"Maybe," I acknowledge. I'm not opposed to the prospect, particularly since Edward and Alice have been rather vocal about their opinions of the Quileute Reservation. They don't go there - no one in their family does, for whatever reason - and I feel like I can breathe there like I haven't been able to in Forks. Not since Edward and Alice had started their campaign, anyway.
It's a lot of driving though, and I don't have the funds to manage it on the regular. My allowance only goes so far, and I'd feel bad about asking Charlie or Renee for gas money.
"I need a job."
Renee, who is surprised by my apparent non-sequitur, flounders for something to say, and eventually settles on asking, "Why?"
I explain my thought process, Renee doesn't argue with my logic, and instead suggests I look for availabilities on the Reservation.
Apparently, she really wants me to spend as much time as possible in La Push. She doesn't linger on the phone for very long though, and so after repeating her directive for me to stay away from Edward Cullen and his family, she hangs up, explaining all the while that she wants to make another phone call before it grows too late. She leaves me with her love then, and I hang up before I have to hear the dial tone, oddly bereft. I'd wanted something from her - reassurance, maybe, or perhaps a distraction - but she apparently doesn't have time for that, and I feel irrationally hurt by the fact.
In an effort not to dwell on my mother's peculiar behaviour, or on my reaction to it, I throw myself into my homework, and once everything is completed to ridiculous standards, I busy myself with my usual evening routine. I take my time with it, exfoliating and cleansing and washing my hair, and all the while, I try hard to relax, to settle my nerves and what have you, and I'm only moderately successful.
Naturally, all my efforts are made redundant when I return to my room, and to the text message awaiting me there. It's from Jacob, a succinct 'Why did your mom just call to talk to my dad?'and I stare at the words, confused and frightened, and I wonder what could be so urgent as to require a late night phone call to Billy Black. Renee's a member of the tribe, was a good friend of Sarah Black during the latter's lifetime, but as far as I know, Renee and Billy have spoken infrequently in the years since Sarah's death. As such, I'm puzzled by the necessity of Renee's phone call, and thought of the possibilities fill me with dread.
I reply, 'I wish I knew', and I try not to worry.
I fail spectacularly.
-!- -#-
Sam
As a general rule, the Quileute Tribal Council doesn't make a habit of summoning myself and/or Jared frivolously. There'd been some nonsense about respecting us, our time, and our status as protectors of the tribe, and although I mostly consider it a load of shit - they certainly don't respect our ambitions and plans for the future, after all - I can appreciate that they don't waste our time.
I'm surprised, then, to receive a call from Chief Black late one night, and I spare a thought to be grateful that Emily is still visiting her family, and is therefore not around to be disturbed by the ringtone. The thought doesn't linger though, and I answer the phone as I mute the episode of Seinfeld I'd been watching mindlessly. Jared's on patrol for another couple of hours, and without much else to do, I'd been passing the time with reruns.
"Chief," I acknowledge, "Is there something wrong?"
I consider the possibility that maybe Jacob Black is on the verge of phasing, but it seems unlikely. Jared and I have monitored him and every other person likely to phase, and the only person who seems remotely close is Paul Lahote. Even then, only barely, and it's probable that the others are still too young for it.
Quite frankly, I envy them the fact, but I try not to get caught up in thoughts like that. It'll only lead to another downward spiral, and that won't be good for anyone.
In any case, Jacob's phase (or lack thereof) is unlikely to be the reason for Chief Black's call, and I wait impatiently for an explanation.
"There is, unfortunately," Billy confirms, "Are you familiar with Isabella Swan, by any chance?"
"Yes," I answer slowly. I'd met her a few times, through Leah, but I would consider her a casual acquaintance at best, and probably not even that. Last I'd seen her, she'd been just shy of her 15th birthday, gangly and awkward and uniquely fond of hiking, camping, and fishing - I'd known few teenaged girls like her - and I'd mostly ignored her in favour of alone time with Leah, "Is she okay?"
"She's physically fine, for now," Billy answers, and I feel myself tense, unhappy at the direction in which this conversation is going, "But it seems she's acquired a rather persistent admirer among the bloodsuckers."
I growl instinctively, displeased to hear it, and my wolf stirs restlessly beneath my skin. Isabella Swan doesn't live on the Reservation, but she's tribe, and therefore under our protection. As such, the wolf is outraged by the inherent threat to her wellbeing, and for once, I share the wolf's opinion.
"Does she know about them?"
"She doesn't," Billy replies, "At least, her mother doesn't believe so. She doesn't care for their attention either, I believe."
"That's unusual," I note. All of the information we've gathered on the leeches indicate that humans are drawn in by them - some kind of disturbing thrall, I imagine, to lure in their prey - and I wonder about Isabella's disinterest.
But then, maybe I shouldn't question it. Maybe, instead, I should just be grateful that she's not effected, and focus on other things - Like the fact that she's still in danger from the bloodsuckers, admirer or not, 'vegetarian' or not, treaty or not.
"It is," Billy concurs, "But that's not why I called. I'm worried about her."
"As you should be," I answer, "You want me to keep an eye on her?"
"If you can. SHe's…" Billy trails off, apparently lacking in the words to explain.
I don't need him to, though. It's more than the fact that she's his best friend's daughter. It's more than the fact that she's human, that she's tribe, that she's a young girl caught up in the games of creatures far deadlier than anything she's ever known. She's special, in a way my wolf recognises but I don't understand, and she needs to be protected.
"I'll do my best," I assure the Chief, and I only hope that it'll be enough.