A/N: I almost delayed this chapter by another week, mainly because it turned out to be another one that needed more editing than I expected. But, being in a kind general editing mode lately helped me get it done a little sooner.
However, with the way things are going with the editing on Breaking Dawn, I do think I am probably going to need some more time on it before posting, so I may go more to a four-week schedule over a three-week schedule as a general rule, we'll see. (Not to mention some of these Midnight chapters coming up are ridiculously long, lol.)
Thank you all so much for your continued support and patience, and for sticking with me all this time! Hope you enjoy, and I'll see you at the end!
Chapter 8: Ghost
I didn't see much of either Patricia or Charles during the sunny two days they were in Forks. I was far too preoccupied mentally following the object of my now undeniable obsession.
Archie, of course, thought my antics were hilarious, and was probably the only one at least partially aware of the level my mania had reached.
Monday morning, after I made my discovery on the forest trail, I decided to head back home briefly. I didn't want to be so rude as to not be seen at all while Jessamine's two guests were staying, and I also knew how Earnest would worry if I never went home.
After the briefest of conversations with our two visitors—they were gracious and courteous as always, making me feel just a little guilty for looking at them more as potential threats than friends—I excused myself, intent on making my way to Forks High School. While I couldn't actually go to school with the sun out, I could certainly wait out the day in the shadow of the woods, where I could follow him in the minds of the other students. I would make certain that no one with malintent got near him.
As I made to launch myself off the porch and into the woods, a cheerful voice called after me. "Have fun. Stalking him, I mean."
I paused and glanced back to find Archie standing in the open doorway, leaning casually against the doorframe. He was grinning ear to ear.
While I knew I would probably be better off ignoring him, I couldn't help answering, "I'm guarding him. Not stalking. There's a difference."
He shrugged. "We can debate semantics if you want. Or you can just admit to yourself that as many euphemisms as you try to put on it, the reality is still the same. Accept it. Embrace it. You'll be happier that way."
Maybe it was because he was right, but I couldn't help giving him a dirty look. A bit of a challenge in my voice, I said, "Are you going to be watching me all day?"
Archie snorted. "I think I'll have better things to do than sit around watching you stand in a forest, pulling up trees every time a girl makes a pass at him. But, if it makes you feel better, I promise to check in on you every once in a while."
I stared at him for a second, then shook my head, incredulous. My brother could be the most irritating person in the world when he put his mind to it.
As if reading my mind, he flashed me a dazzling smile. "Have fun," he repeated. "Don't be too hard on nature."
Sighing to myself, and trying hard not to see whatever immediate future Archie was seeing, I turned and sprinted off into the woods.
As I ran, all minor irritations faded to the back of my mind, and even the flimsy excuses I made to myself about the danger posed by Charles and Patricia. Exhilaration flooded my system at the thought of seeing him again, every bit as potent as a few days before, when I was only just discovering these new feelings. I ran so fast that to any human observer, I would have appeared as no more than an insubstantial streak of color, a haunting specter.
It felt like only a moment before I reached the familiar woods near the school. There I found a place to stand in the deep shadows of the trees, far enough back there would be no hope to spot me amidst the thick foliage, but where the pavement of the school grounds was clearly visible to my eyes.
I glanced down at my watch, and was surprised and dismayed to see how early it still was. Perhaps I ought to have returned to his house first, the fifteen minutes or so until his normal arrival time felt like an agonizing eternity.
I was still frowning at my watch when the familiar roar of an ancient, outmoded engine jarred me from my thoughts. I glanced up in disbelief just in time to see his banged up old truck pulling into the lot. I could scarcely believe my luck—he was never this early.
As he climbed from his truck and shut the door behind him, I instantly noticed something different about his demeanor. As he made his way across the parking lot, he walked with a slight spring in his step, and as he stopped beside the seldom-used picnic benches, he raised his face to the sun, smiling.
It was the sunlight, I realized—he didn't like the cold or the wet, so having the sun out must remind him of being home in Phoenix, with his mother.
As I watched the beams of sunlight play on his pale skin, suddenly being confined to the shadows felt more like a torment than ever before. What an insufferable dilemma—the sun put him in such a good mood. But I could never go near him in the weather he liked best.
Unslinging his bag from his shoulder, he spread the jacket he had been carrying over the still-damp bench. As he sat down, and I stared at the back of his plain T-shirt, I realized it was only rarely I'd seen him without a jacket. He hardly ever went anywhere without one, even in class. The one exception was when I'd seen him in his bed asleep, but as he hadn't been conscious at the time, it didn't seem like that counted.
In the absence of all his usual layers, he looked more... open. Less guarded. Even as he drew out his math textbook and laid it out on the table, he appeared almost cheerful.
If only I could have gone to sit beside him. To strike up a conversation while he was in this mood. But, I was imprisoned in the shadows.
Time passed, and before long the empty lot was full of students milling about. Apparently Beau wasn't the only one enjoying the weather; many faces were bright at the unusually balmy air, and more than a few were dressed in t-shirts and some even in shorts. Beau didn't seem to notice them as he scribbled idly in his notebook.
Oh, it's Beau! gasped a familiar mental voice. And he's alone—now's my chance!
My gaze shifted to find McKayla Newton approaching. She was also taking advantage of the rare warm weather, dressed in a tank top and skirt. She was thrilled at the chance to wear something other than heavy jackets and jeans, and it factored in to her decision to take advantage of this rare opportunity.
"Beau!" she called as she neared.
He looked up immediately, scanning the crowd, and his eyes finally found McKayla.
He smiled. "Hey, McKayla."
I gripped the tendrils of a nearby spruce, suddenly rigid with tension. I remembered the offhanded remark Archie had made, and realized with dismay he hadn't been joking.
McKayla sat herself down beside him, in the place I would have sat, and she was beaming.
"Great day, isn't it?"
I could see his returning smile in her thoughts. His smile was almost as wide as hers.
Ice seared me. It returned to me again that there were entire days of his life I had missed—and that it was more than possible something significant may have happened that I might not be aware of. The fear I hadn't wanted to put into words rose up in my mind like a black cloud.
Maybe he hadn't been interested in McKayla at all before, but I knew from watching human teenage minds that human feelings could change in an instant. Maybe something had changed over the course of the beach trip. McKayla wasn't thinking about the beach trip at the moment or of anything of note happening, but then, she wasn't privy to Beau's thoughts either. What if the reason he slept so much more soundly last night was because he had realized he liked her after all, and he was anticipating seeing her today? From the open, warm look on his face now, it was easy to believe.
I wasn't all that skilled at measuring the attractiveness of human girls—but there could be no doubt in looking at the thoughts of most of the male students that McKayla was considered quite a draw, especially at the moment. As she'd walked across the lot toward the picnic benches, she'd turned more than a few heads. With her long, straight blond hair and round, child-like face, she was considered very pretty, in a comfortingly human sort of way.
"My kind of day," Beau said, grinning back at her.
My fingers gripping the spruce tightened, and with an inadvertent twitch of my hand, I felt the roots tear up against the dirt.
McKayla's heart fluttered at the look, followed by a burst of jubilant confidence.
I've been totally over thinking this, she thought. He does like me, I knew it. I bet he did want to go to the dance with me, it's just he had that thing in Seattle. I mean, we're practically a couple already, it's just he's so shy—that's why we haven't made any progress. I've just got to take the initiative, and he'll follow my lead.
"What did you do yesterday?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I mostly worked on my essay."
He's always so responsible, she mentally gushed. "Oh yeah," she said, going along with the small talk, trying to figure out how to work up to what she wanted to ask. "That's due Thursday, right?"
"Um, Wednesday, I think," he answered.
"Wednesday?" McKayla's good mood flickered. Maybe I could just let it slide this once. I mean, this is more important—no, I can't do that, Beau would think I was such an irresponsible slacker. And my parents would probably ground me.
"That's not good. I guess I'll have to get to work on that tonight."
No! No excuses! It's now or never!
McKayla took a quick breath, then went on, "I was going to ask if you wanted to go out."
"Oh," he said, face blank with surprise.
A brief silence followed.
He isn't saying anything, McKayla thought in a panic. Does that mean no? Or—maybe he doesn't know how to answer because of the dumb essay thing and I didn't actually ask?
McKayla tried again. "Well," she said, "we could go to dinner or something... and I could work on it later."
I felt the tree roots of the spruce come up a few more inches, but I barely noticed. I was filled with a mad desire to thwart her—if it weren't for the sunlight, I would go over there right now, and interrupt the conversation before it could go any farther. I would stay with him as long as I had to, to keep her from ever catching him alone again.
Anything to keep him away from this human girl I knew deep down would be such a better match for him than I was.
"McKayla..." he began slowly, awkwardly. "I don't think that would be the best idea."
I realized my breathing had stopped, and now I breathed again. My hand gripping the tree relaxed, and it settled heavily back on its roots, though now badly leaning to one side.
All McKayla's buoyant confidence abruptly evaporated, and she was suddenly miserable.
I should have known. Seattle was just an excuse. I bet Jeremy's right, and he's completely stuck on Edythe Cullen.
"Why?" she said slowly, guardedly.
He paused. He glanced once to the side, as though on the lookout for possible eavesdroppers, before turning back to look her in the eye. "Look," he said in a low voice, "I'm breaking all kinds of man codes telling you this, so don't rat me out, okay?"
Both McKayla and I were equally clueless where this could possibly be leading.
"Man codes?" McKayla repeated, frowning.
He nodded. "Jeremy's my friend," he went on, "and if I went out with you, well, it would upset him."
McKayla didn't reply, just stared at him blankly.
"I never said any of this, okay?" he said vehemently. "It's your word against mine."
"Jeremy?" she repeated at last. Her mind had started up again, going at full force. Jeremy? Is that what this is all about? Just like at the dance, when he told me I should ask Jeremy instead... Stepping aside, as a favor to Jeremy?
"Seriously," Beau said, with a bit of a smile that was almost disapproving, "are you blind?"
"Oh," she said, the word coming out as a breath. No, that's not it. Jeremy is just another excuse. He has been all along. I am blind.
She was too much in shock to show the misery of all her crushed hopes on her face.
Beau got up, putting his book and notebook back in his bag. "I don't want to be late again. I'm already on Mason's list."
I followed McKayla's thoughts as the two of them started for class. McKayla was silent as they walked, and she didn't look at him.
McKayla was still reeling from the shock of her realization, and before long all her thoughts were spiraling down into a black hole. He doesn't like me. He's never going to like me. Jeremy's probably right, he's been too busy fantasizing about Edythe Cullen. I should have seen it, I should have known...
She snuck a peek at him walking beside her, and he was staring straight ahead.
She turned away again, though the gloom was quickly being replaced by anger.
Is this how the rest of your year is going to go? she demanded of herself. Are you just going to be single the rest of high school, going after some guy who's not even interested? This is pointless. I'm pretty, I'm fun. Even if he doesn't appreciate it, I could find someone who would. Jeremy's nice... He pays attention to me... why not?
McKayla was already working herself out of her dark mood, relieved and even cheerful as her resolve solidified.
Yeah, she thought. He can pine after Edythe Cullen all he wants, see if I care. I'm going to enjoy high school.
I smiled to myself as the two headed off to classes, McKayla's mind already focused on making plans with Jeremy. That was one rival down. Of all the possible advantages I'd considered I might have over the others, I'd forgotten to factor in patience. As much as McKayla liked Beau, she wasn't so absorbed in him that she was willing to wait around an eternity. If he wasn't going to come around, she'd rather find someone else than be alone.
I, on the other hand, was indeed willing to wait an eternity. Longer, if necessary. I had all the time in the world.
As classes started, I went to curl up against the cool trunk of an enormous madrone tree, contentedly settling in to watch his day.
I jumped from one mind to the next, always keeping him in sight. In his Trigonometry class, Jeremy said they were planning a trip down to Port Angeles in the afternoon to catch a movie and order corsages for the dance. Beau seemed reluctant, saying something about homework, and he'd have to see.
Jeremy was suspicious—he'd seen Beau talking to McKayla out by the picnic benches before school—but didn't call him out on it.
Beau seemed in a good mood right up until lunch. When he walked through the doors with Jeremy, he looked around the cafeteria, before his face immediately fell. Jeremy was too busy going on about the trip that afternoon, so he didn't notice, and didn't turn to look, so I missed whatever Beau was looking at.
The frustration was almost unbearable—watching him through the eyes of others wasn't at all the same as watching him myself. Especially through the inattentive, self-absorbed eyes of Jeremy. He was too thrilled when McKayla invited him to come sit beside her to even notice how suddenly depressed Beau seemed, let alone speculate on the reason.
I switched over from Jeremy to Allen—Allen had just asked Beau a question about the essay due, and his attention was on Beau. Beau was obviously making an effort to act normal, but Allen picked up on the subtle cues.
He looks so down. I wonder if it's because the Cullens are out today. I thought I saw him looking toward their table...
My frustration was instantly replaced with a sudden thrill. That possibility hadn't occurred to me—that he was depressed because he had been expecting to see me. It was true, I hadn't told him we would be out Monday.
I liked Allen's idea, and I decided to hold onto it for further contemplation later.
Wonder if there's something I could say to cheer him up, Allen thought, though he was doubtful.
"Hey," he said in a low, quiet voice. "Jeremy was putting together a thing in Port Angeles this evening. I think it would be more fun if you were there. We're going to see a movie and get corsages—"
He broke off as a new thought suddenly occurred to him. Oh, he's not going to the dance, is he? Stupid, I wish I knew when to keep my big mouth shut...
"Oh yeah, Jeremy told me about that. Yeah, I think I will."
I didn't know what to make of this sudden turnaround after his vague, noncommittal answer to Jeremy. Maybe it was just because Allen was the one asking.
I realized, not for the first time, that I liked being in Allen's mind. It was quiet. He was always mindful of other people's feelings, and never had a mean or nasty thought about anyone. I liked that Beau had a friend like him. I had the oddest impulse to do something for him—just for the simple fact of his having such a gentle mind and being such a good friend to Beau. However, I wasn't quite sure how to do it, as I wasn't sure what Allen might want. He didn't seem to want much of anything. I would have to think on it some more.
Now that Beau had definite plans to go out this evening, I made my own plans for surveillance. I'd have to be careful—driving into town when it was sunny out carried its own risk, but he'd be with the others, so I'd be able to keep an eye on him through them.
However, not long after Beau pulled out of the parking lot to head home, and I prepared to head over there, McKayla caught Jeremy on the way out. He was ecstatic when she asked him to the same dinner she had tried to get Beau to go to that morning. Jeremy knew he would have to call the others to cancel today's plans, but they'd work just as well for tomorrow. He didn't have a moment's hesitation, and he was exultant as he got into his car.
I sprinted so quickly through the back woods that I reached Beau's home before he did. I used the time to make a quick run through the trees, sweeping them for any possible dangers. To make sure Patricia and Charles hadn't happened to wander close. Of course, I knew Jessamine had warned them to steer far clear of this particular area—she and Archie together had made it clear in no uncertain terms the extremity of their sister's recent insanity—but the way I figured it, if I was going to call myself a bodyguard, I should at least take the job seriously.
The first hour after he arrived home was long. When he was inside the house, I could neither see nor hear him, and as he was alone, there were no eyes to watch him through. Rationally, I knew he was perfectly safe, but it still made me edgy.
I was startled and thrilled when the front door opened, and he emerged, a quilt under his arm and a book in hand, and came around to the backyard.
Silently, I climbed into the higher branches of the closest tree overlooking the yard. There I crouched in the shadows, obscured from view, but with a good vantage point. I watched as he tossed the quilt down, laying on top of it, then cracked open the paperback. Just like that morning at the picnic table, he seemed eager to enjoy the warmth and sunlight while it lasted.
The dilemma of before returned to my mind. He loved the warmth and the sunlight, and I wanted to see him happy, cheerful as he had been this morning. But the only way I would get to talk to him, be with him, was if the sky closed up again, if it grew overcast and gloomy, and hid the sun from sight.
It seemed like everything I ever wanted and hoped for was always in opposition to his wants, his needs. I despised the sunlight—it was like a cage, hemming me in, blocking me from getting to him. And most of all, I despised it for having the power to expose me for the inhuman monster I was.
Did I really love him? These twisted emotions raging inside me certainly didn't feel like love—aching for him so much it could make me so loathe something that brought him such happiness.
But it wasn't just the sunlight. I hated anything that had the potential to separate me from him. Whether it be McKayla or the scores of other girls vying for his attention or my own inhumanness, or my still quietly burning conscience, which bade me to leave. The stronger my love seemed to become, the more the hate seemed to grow in equal measure. The jealousy, the fear, the anger. I was full of monsters, all trying to get out. Was this how love was supposed to be? Or was I simply incapable of real, pure love, because of what I was?
He didn't seem in as good of a mood as he had been that morning. If anything, he appeared restless. He shifted around on the blanket several times, as if he couldn't quite seem to get comfortable. When he opened the book, he flipped through it aimlessly for a while, without stopping to actually read anything. Maybe he had lost his place.
Finally he shut the book and tossed it aside, then rolled onto his back, eyes closed. However, he didn't look peaceful or relaxed. His eyebrows were tense above his closed eyelids, forming a crease in his forehead, as if he were thinking on something very hard.
Once again the familiar ache, the longing to know what was going through his mind, filled my chest. However, I suddenly wondered if even that old impulse was yet another monster. A person's thoughts were supposed to be private, not for some stranger to go rummaging through at their leisure. What a violation it was—like a burglar stealing through the house at night, going through clothing and possessions, reading diary entries. A person was supposed to be safe in their mind, as they were supposed to be safe in their home. Now, the one person who had the privacy that, by rights, they all should have, I desperately longed to rob him of that, too.
I shook my head, trying to force the thoughts from my mind, at least for the present. Instead, I refocused my gaze on his face.
As I watched him, his creased brow eventually smoothed, and his breathing slowed. He hadn't been asleep long when his mouth moved, muttering something.
I leaned forward, straining to make it out. Voices from the other nearby houses drifted back to me.
Now if I just add a pinch of vanilla...
Come on! Just get to the goal—oh, come on, seriously?
Sheesh, I hate checking my email, but if I miss another message from the boss...
I could make out the title of his book with ease at this distance, but I still couldn't make out what he was saying. It was too low, too indistinct.
I sat perfectly still, warring with myself. There was no one close by, no eyes to see this yard from where they were. Maybe...
But it would be wrong. Pointlessly, mindlessly risky.
Even as I said the words to myself I dropped from my branch, landing silently on my toes. I stood there for a moment, frozen in a half crouch, staring across the yard where he still lay, perfectly still.
What I was about to do was irresponsible. Foolish. What was happening to me? Of all of Carine's adopted children, I had always been the most meticulous, the most careful. I was the oldest sibling, and I had always acted it. Now... now. Even when I was thinking clearly, it felt like I was in a fog, a fever. I couldn't resist even the smallest temptations, like he was the sun, and I was the helpless planet, caught in his orbit. I couldn't keep away.
Holding my breath, I stepped out carefully into the light.
I was instantly transformed. The sunlight broke over my skin, my hard exterior refracting it back like a prism in an array of light and color. In the murky shade of an overcast day, our skin was dull stone, hard, but still passable as that of a human—however, in sunlight, our hard skin turned to something very much like diamond. Unsettling to a human, terrifying. Inhuman. Monstrous.
With perfect silence I crept toward him, then stopped a few yards away. I took a deliberate breath through my nose—I hadn't tasted his scent since early that morning, and once again at the few hours' absence the burning, flaming temptation hit me hard. My throat ignited, venom filled my mouth.
I stood there a moment, fighting my instincts down, then took one last step forward, until I stood over where he lay. My shadow fell across his face, and in the shadow I saw flickers of color, reflected from my skin. If he opened his eyes now, he would see me for what I was. The monster. The vampire. What would he think? Would he think he was dreaming? Would he have another possible superhero to add to the list? Or maybe by now he had started in on the villains. Maybe he would think I was Dr. Light.
I smiled at the thought, but it was a bitter smile. Even if he had started guessing DC villains, that would be better than the truth.
He had fallen quiet where he lay, and I started to draw back, toward the protective cover of the trees. But then his mouth opened again, and he grunted something under his breath. I hesitated, listening.
"Mmm... Umummm..."
He wasn't saying anything, at least anything intelligible. However, I remained a moment, wondering suddenly with a pulse of exhilaration if, if I waited long enough, he would say my name again.
Holding my breath, I went to him one more time, crouching down beside him. Carefully, I picked up his book, and retreated with it a few paces.
As I had observed from the tree, it was Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Judging from the worn binding and dog-eared pages, it was a favorite.
I had read the book once for a class in college. It was about a few men taken prisoner on a mysterious submarine, captained by a strange, even more mysterious man. They discovered the man to be both cultured and a great scientific mind, but there always seemed to be something sinister lurking just below the surface. In the end, for all his learning and true love and compassion for the men who served under him, the captain turned out to also be a man driven by vengeance.
There were plenty of sea monsters and scientific details about underwater exploration—just the kind of book a teenage boy might be expected to like.
I smiled at the thought. I wondered if he had read it when he was younger, and if he had ever imagined himself as the great and enigmatic Captain Nemo, like other boys.
I rifled carelessly through the pages of the much-loved book, until a particular familiar passage caught my eye. A speech from the captain.
"I am the law, and I am the judge! I am the oppressed, and there is the oppressor! Through him I have lost all that I loved, cherished, and venerated—country, wife, children, father, and mother. I saw all perish! All that I hate is here!"
My smile slowly faded. Carefully I replaced the book and retreated back a few yards. However, before I went, I turned to take one last look at his sleeping face, his skin seeming to glow in the sunlight, not in the disturbing, unnatural way mine did, but in a human way. Soft, beautiful.
I wondered, if I did somehow succeed—if I did make him fall in love with me—and then I took away everything, his father and mother, his humanity, his life, how much he may hate me in the end. When, through me, he lost everything he had cherished.
I let myself gaze upon his features from this unforgivably close distance for a moment longer, before I slunk back to the cover of the shadows—where I belonged.
The afternoon passed. I watched him as the sun slowly sank in the sky, and the shadows crept across the lawn toward him. In spite of all my resentment toward the sun, I suddenly found I didn't want it to go. I wanted it to stay with him, for his sake. But, almost as though to spite me, the darkness came anyway, closing over him, snatching away the warm glow on his face, and leaving his skin far too pale—almost ghostly. As though Archie's vision had already come to pass.
I concentrated on the reassuring sound of his steady heartbeat.
He didn't awaken until the sound of his father's car engine arriving in the drive broke the silence. He sat up sharply and glanced around briefly, disoriented. For just a moment his eyes lingered on the shadows where I stood, concealed, but they flickered quickly away.
"Charlie?" he called, looking confused.
The car door slammed as Chief Swan got out and headed toward the house. As usual, his thoughts were muffled from my hearing, though I sensed hunger and expectation—likely looking forward to whatever his son had prepared.
Beau quickly got to his feet, looking jumpy, as if he somehow sensed the eyes watching him. He glanced back toward the woods one more time, before he picked up the quilt and book and headed back inside.
Dinner was a quiet affair, as was the rest of the evening. The Swan residence was not a talkative place. Once again I found I could not properly hear Chief Swan's mental voice—I only got a sense of general emotion. However, I could still feel the overwhelming affection he held for his son, which was at odds with the casual, abbreviated conversation. Beau brought up the plans they had for the next evening, and his father raised no objections. Chief Swan must have been a fairly lax parent in spite of his vocation, but then, I suppose it made more sense that parents of responsible teenagers didn't need to be strict. He gave an obligatory warning not to stay out too late on a school night, and that was about it.
I decided he should probably be in little danger, at least for an hour or two, and so I slipped out of my tree and headed back home. I would come back later tonight, after he was asleep, but for now I decided to stop by home and go for a short hunting trip. It felt strange, hunting every day when I was used to going two weeks or more at a time on one meal. But I could never be too careful. Every little bit helped.
I found the house empty when I arrived, which was just as well. It was nice to have some peace and quiet in my mind, especially since many of my family's thoughts had turned increasingly disparaging lately, or else concerned for my mental welfare. I noticed a note tacked to the newel post.
Having a football game at the Rainier field! See you there? Please?
—El
I found a pen and quickly wrote back Sorry beneath the plea. It was just as well anyway, as the teams would be even without me.
I stayed close by for my hunting, sticking to the less tasty but more plentiful herbivores, then changed into new clothes before I ran back to Forks.
He slept restlessly again, as he had the first night, tossing and turning, and muttering incomprehensibly. I couldn't get enough to interpret the dreams that seemed to plague him, except I thought he seemed to be afraid of something—several times he mumbled words too indistinct to be understood, but I was certain the tone was a plea.
I was relieved when the next day arrived, knowing that it was the last of my imprisonment, and would be overcast again tomorrow. Again I felt a needle of guilt, knowing I was glad to see the absence of something he preferred. But I consoled myself the sunshine did not seem to be doing much to improve his mood anyway—if anything, he seemed more depressed and agitated than he had the previous day.
I remembered Allen's thoughts—that the reason he was down was due to my, or at least my family's, absence. It was a comforting thought. Wednesday couldn't come soon enough—then I could see whether it was true.
He seemed so depressed at school that I began to wonder if he would back out of the Port Angeles outing. He didn't seem at all in the mood. However, he seemed to get a little better toward the end of school, and as Jeremy picked him up after he had driven his truck home and they headed over to Allen's next, he seemed almost cheerful, or as cheerful as he ever seemed. I should have been happy for the change, but, selfish as always, I was disappointed. Allen's theory was looking less likely all the time.
I headed home to get my car. Patricia and Charles were there when I arrived and, as they were leaving soon and I had rudely been MIA their entire visit, I decided an hour or so at home before I set out wouldn't hurt. Besides, I thought it was probably best to give Beau and the others a decent head start—I pictured the torture of driving behind them at near the speed limit the entire way, and had to suppress a shudder.
Reactions to my sudden reappearance were mixed. As I emerged into the front room, heading straight for the piano, I felt Royal glaring at the back of my head, while Earnest, who up to now had been overjoyed for me, watched me with obvious concern. Archie beamed and mentally called, Have fun stalking him in Port Angeles tonight. Let me know when I can talk to him. Eleanor was still incredulous I had missed the game last night to sit and watch someone sleep, while Jessamine was indifferent to me, her attention absorbed in saying farewell to her friends.
Meanwhile, Patricia and Charles kept stealing uncertain glances in my direction, clearly unsettled. They both picked up on the emotion of my music as I began to play. The notes came quick and sharp—agitated, impatient.
So peculiar, this one, thought Charles, eying my slightly tense back. Eccentric. She seemed perfectly all right the last time we were here...
Charles and Patricia were almost always on the same wavelength, and Patricia's thoughts were similar. I wonder if it has something with the diet of animals, she thought. Maybe for some, the lack of human blood eventually leads to madness?
The two of them could have been twins, for their matching white-blond hair and similar thinking patterns. A good match, I'd always thought. I couldn't resent them questioning my sanity—with the way I'd been acting, I had to seem like the reclusive, paranoid, socially ill-adjusted member of the family. Sane was not a word that could be truthfully applied to my current behavior.
I made an effort to reign myself in, played more softly and gently, and before long I was forgotten again.
I paid little attention to them for awhile, instead focusing only on the music, trying to make it relax me. After following Beau around almost nonstop for so long, even going an hour without seeing him made me uneasy. I tried not to think of any of the list of potential disasters I'd given Eleanor.
My mind only returned to the present when at last the goodbyes grew more final.
"Take care," Jessamine said, in her stoic, even way. "And if you run into Miguel again, tell him I wish him well."
Patricia did not look at all thrilled at the idea of seeing Miguel again. Miguel was responsible for creating all three of them, Jessamine, Patricia, and Charles. They had all escaped from Miguel's ferocious army of newborns, which he used to maintain his territory in brutal, nonstop combat against other clans; Miguel had once tracked Jessamine down, claiming only for a friendly visit, and to tell her he bore her no ill-will for leaving the army. However, his real purpose had been to ask her to come back—it had been an eventful few days, and we had had to move immediately.
From what I had seen there was little doubt Miguel blamed Patricia for Jessamine's defection and, given that Jessamine had always been his favorite, I knew he bore a grudge against both Patricia and her mate. If Patricia ever ran into Miguel again, there was no telling if she would walk away from it.
"Thank you," Patricia said, smiling a little. "We will." She correctly took Jessamine's greeting to pass along for what it was—potentially a little bit of protection from Miguel's petty resentments. Miguel had fought alongside Jessamine long enough to know just how dangerous an enemy Jessamine was to have, and it was not wise to go around killing any friend of hers.
Jessamine shook both of their hands, and they were now ready to depart. I allowed the song I was playing to trail off to an unsatisfying end, then got to my feet, a little too quickly.
"Charles, Patricia," I said, nodding in their direction.
My polite mask didn't fool them, and they could see plainly how anxious I was to be gone. Rude to a fault, that was me.
"It was nice to see you again, Edythe," Charles said, also polite, while he eyed me with open doubt.
"Best of luck to you," Patricia added.
They were barely out of sight and into the woods before I was striding across the room, intent on getting to my car. Archie mentally called after me, They're going straight east, you know. Seattle. Port Angeles is safe. He summoned one of his visions as proof.
I ignored him. Vampires weren't the only possible danger in the world. Or so I told myself.
Stalker, he added with a wide grin.
I didn't answer, partially because there was a roomful of other eyes watching as I slipped out the door—Royal with scorn and irritation, Eleanor with incredulity, and Earnest with concern beginning to mingle with pity. And also partially because, even if I would never admit it aloud, I already knew he was right.
It's all for a good cause, I told myself as I got in my car, and the engine Royal had boosted for me—last year, when he was in a better mood—purred to life.
Whether stalking of this sort could ever really be justified, especially when the danger was headed in the opposite direction, I found I didn't really care. With every mile that flew away under my tires, I would be getting closer to him—and for the moment, that was all that mattered.
A/N: Another fun chapter to work on, particularly the scene with McKayla near the beginning. Again, I decided to go for something different with McKayla than how Mike came across in Midnight Sun, mainly because I always felt like Mike came off feeling somewhat one-dimensional. (Given what we knew of him from the books from Bella's perspective, I felt like there would have been opportunity to give us a little more complexity, both positive and negative character traits alike, whereas in Midnight Sun, he just feels like he's there to be the bad guy.)
Anyway, that's it for now. Thanks so much for all your comments last chapter, and if you have a moment, let me know what you thought. Hope to see you next time!
Posted 10/9/18