Chapter 11: Cult

I was ninety percent sure that the Lauren problem wasn't going to go away. There was always that ten percent chance. A car in the parking lot could hit her and then she'd get amnesia. She could be attacked by some gangsters in an alley mistaking her for a target in a photograph. Or maybe stuff like that only happened to me. I was the crazy ten percent.

To quell Hurricane Lauren I responded to her storm of texts by first letting her know I was receiving them—all fifty-six and counting—and second I was planning to tell her the truth. The planning wasn't finished yet. A thread silenced Lauren, sewn hastily by my own hand, and the strain of her impatience was wearing it thin. Lauren wasn't stupid enough (alas) to buy that the wolves were a coincidence—or that they were average wolves. I couldn't see a way around confessing that Laurent was a vampire. But how little could I say about Jake and his new pals without endangering him—or Lauren? I knew Jake wasn't about to make Lauren swim with the fishes if she started calling newspapers and writing a blog. But what were did the other wolves stand? Did they have something like the Volturi? Was there a council that decided what happened to people who revealed their secret existence?

Too many questions and I couldn't risk giving Lauren more time. I needed backup.

As promised Jake did text me. His first text to me since his werewolf transformation and it was at five in the morning. The sun hadn't risen. I stared with squinty eyes at the message.

I know it's early sorry. I swear no more ignoring. But I can't see you today. I need space.

My eyes were dry from the startled awakening of my text tone. There were probably a zillion red lines on the white bits. If I closed them, that would be nice. That didn't happen. With the covers wrapped tightly over my shoulders, I rolled over and called Jake.

There were two full rings and then a short pause. When he spoke he whispered. "Bella?"

"I totally respect that you're a werewolf now and I would like to give you space," I said groggily.

"Are you sleep-calling? Like sleeping-walking, but calling?" Jake asked. There was a smile in his tone, but he didn't raise his voice. Was he alone?

The breeze that blew through the old, uneven frame of my window was freezing. I pulled the covers over my head. "Are you whispering because it's the crack of dawn—nay, before the dawn cracking—or because you're at a werewolf meeting?"

Jake didn't answer immediately. He paused. There was a shuffling sound and wind. Was he outside?

"Okay, whatever, don't care about your secret werewolf meeting in the woods—"

"How did you know I was in the woods?"

"I know inside sounds very well," I answered quietly and closed my eyes. "I like the inside. It's warm and nice."

"You are sleep-calling." Jake laughed softly.

"I'm awake." I opened my eyes—an attempt to make my body match my words. "I need to see you."

There was a long pause. I think I heard someone laughing and it wasn't Jake. He wasn't alone. I pulled my sheets up over my chin. I was hoping Jake wouldn't need an explanation as to why I needed to see him. How good was werewolf hearing? If it were Alice standing next to the phone she'd know every word.

My heart tightened like a guitar string tuned to the point of snapping. How long had it been since they'd left me? Getting over Edward was one hurtful problem, but the Cullens had become a big part of my life. They'd been most of my life. It was beginning to feel like a dream I'd had that was fading the longer I was awake. I admit I wanted to forget Edward. I wanted to only think of a good guy like Jake. But Edward had taken more than our relationship with him. He'd taken what had become my family. I hated Edward for that. Missing him was the last thing on my mind when I wanted to give him a good old-fashioned groin kick. It made it easier to turn the sadness into a more productive energy—the kind that made the idea of yelling at werewolves sound like a very, very good idea.

"Jake?" There had been silence for more than a minute.

"Bella…" He voice was a mix of embarrassment and sweetness. Cute, but he was getting the wrong idea.

"Lauren," I said to bring him back down to earth, "she was with me when you saved me from that vampire. She isn't stupid enough to think it was a random act of kindness by a totally normal wolf pack. Plus, the growing rate of her texts is going to explode my phone. Plus, she hates me. If I tell her patience is a virtue one more time, she's going to call the cops or blog about it or something, anything to piss me off and everything to expose the fact there are giant wolves that save people from very real vampires."

"Shit." Jake moved the phone away and started talking to someone. Whoever he was with he had no problem confessing the whole story.

There were at least three other voices. My human hearing wasn't fantastic, but Jake's phone was good at picking up background noise. That would normally be annoying, but it was proving to be super-duper useful. My name was said. Lauren was mentioned. Or maybe it was Laurent. Next I heard a wolf growl. Was that a 'we have a rational plan' growl or 'we should just kill the bitch' growl? Sadly, my long-time rivalry for Lauren made me unsure which growl I would've preferred.

"Tell Lauren you'll meet her at noon and talk to her," Jake ordered. His voice had the tone of someone not about to listen to any counter-arguments. He sounded older. It reminded me that it wasn't only his looks that had transformed. "You're right that this can't be put off. The pack didn't want to include you but I put in a good word"—he said it with an obvious bragging tone—"so you need to be ready in ten minutes."

I threw back the covers and sat up. "What?"

"I'll be there in ten minutes," he clarified.

"I say again—what? Did you forget that the sun isn't up?" I lowered my voice. Dad wouldn't like the idea of me calling Jake in the wee hours and it would make it that much harder to sneak out to a secret werewolf meeting if Dad woke up and caught me. "Besides, my dad—"

"Fine," he said, agitated. "Be ready in ten minutes, and then sneak out. I know you can do it." There was an encouraging and somehow mocking tone. "I'll meet you at the end of the street. We won't wake up Charlie if we're sneaky."

"But—"

"Bella. Ten minutes." He hung up.

"Jake!" I whisper-yelled. I looked at my phone screen. Definitely gone. I tossed it at the end of my bed.

There would come a day when I was allowed to get ready with as much time as I wanted. But it was not this day.

Restraining grumbles and ignoring my unmade bed I tiptoed to the bathroom. In lieu of brushing my teeth and for the sake of saving time I gargled mouthwash until my cheeks were burning and washed-dried-creamed my face at the same time. My hair was determined to bed-head. Brushing it only made it flatten. There was a near-dead bottle of spray-in dry shampoo, which I brushed through. Alas my hair was possessed. The only way to exorcise it was a ponytail. I went for the higher variety to add some spunk to my spunk-less pre-dawn energy. If I was going to meet up with werewolves I had to wear shorts—in case there was running. I put on the light-wash jean shorts and a pink tank (it was at the top of the pile). There was no time for make up (ugh!) and I barely had time to tie my shoes when I noticed it was eleven minutes after Jake had hung up.

It might have been silly to leave a note, but I did. Dad didn't deserve to wake up and find out I was missing. He'd had enough of that with James. The thought of it made me sick. I pretended it was because I was rushing on an empty stomach and pocketed a granola bar. I wrote that I went to meet Jake, left it in the middle of the counter by the fridge. I grabbed my jean jacket on the way out since the lingering night was keeping the regular summer temperatures down.

After closing the front door, holding my breath, making no noise, I ran down the street. I saw Jake and his motorcycle waiting for me. I kept running and rolled my eyes. I slowed down to a jog.

Jake was wearing clothes this time—shirt and shoes. He scratched at the collar of his shirt. It was still a shock noticing changes in him. The blush in my cheeks wasn't from running alone. There obvious tone of his muscles had something to do with it too.

"I have a truck, you know." I stopped and took a moment to catch my breath.

"And risk waking up Charlie?" He said it with a smirk. He relished the chance to get me on the bike again. Ugh.

I set my closed fists on my hips and frowned. "I'm never going to like that monster."

Jake held out a helmet. "Never say never."

I laughed. "Do you have Bieber Fever?"

His eyes widened. "What?"

"Never say never?" I echoed. "I had no idea you liked the Biebs."

Jake rolled his eyes. "I know people said that a long time before he did, Bella. I don't have any kind of pop music fever."

I begrudgingly lowered my ponytail and popped the helmet on. "Meaning you don't like any pop music—as in never have never will?" I bounced my eyebrows a few times. "You know what people say, never say never."

He shook his head and laughed. "So I've heard."

I climbed behind Jake on the bike. "Does being a werewolf make you impervious to head wound?" I tapped his naked head.

"Impervious, no," he said. He took my hands and wrapped my arms around his waist. "Resistant, yes." He held his hand over mine a moment. "And…it…gets in the way."

"Of what?"

He moved his hands to the handlebars. "When we transform, clothes get in the way." He paused.

"Right." The warmth of his skin burned through his thin shirt. "Helmets get in the way too." My palms were sweating. Ew. Not my sexiest moment. But, seriously, he was hot. "You're not planning on wolf-transforming in the middle of the drive, right? Because you might be able to steer with paws, I don't know, but if you can't I might need kneepads to go with this helmet."

Jake laughed. "You're safe."

"Okay." I grinned. I thought about telling him that I never doubted him and that I did feel safe, but people said never say never. It was easier to keep the butterflies to myself.

The drive was loud—and not because of chatter. It was a combination of the motorcycle and my heart pounding in my ears. The adrenaline from the fear of having no metal walls protecting me from road rash was the reason. Every few breaths I realized I was breathless. Jake was wrong. Never was the right word to describe my motorcycle relationship. Visions of tipping at whatever miles per hour we were at and my bare legs meeting the road at the speed were in my mind. Nope nope nope.

We made it safely to the reservation, but Jake didn't stop at his house. He drove by without slowing. The werewolf meeting wasn't going to be in a familiar surrounding. I knew Jake would protect me, but I didn't know if the others could be trusted—what if I had to run? I didn't know the way back. I started paying attention to landmarks. I noted the colours of people's doors. Not that I was paranoid but I knew how wrong things could go when I was involved with the supernatural.

Jake followed a dirt road to a tiny house at the end of the lane. Most of the houses on the lane were old looking. This one was the best out of the bunch. It was faded, probably was grey once upon a time, with a door painted sky blue, the only kept-up part of the house. The roof looked ready to retire and some of the singles were cracked. Under the wide windows were flower boxes with bright yellow and orange marigolds.

Jacob parked his bike and helped me off. He took my helmet; he brought his lips to my ear and whispered, "Don't stare, okay?"

I narrowed my eyes. The house wasn't that bad. "At what?"

"Who," he corrected. "It makes Sam…" He winced. "Trust me, don't stare."

Jake sat the helmet on the seat and took my hand. He led me up the pebbled path to the blue door. I was trying not to stare at anything too long. Was it Sam I wasn't supposed to stare at? I had a feeling Jake was trying not to say too much out loud because, like vampires, werewolves had good hearing. It was probably someone else who was inside that I had to veer my eyes away from.

"Is everyone inside?" I whispered. I knew they could probably hear me anyway, but it was automatic.

Jake nodded.

"How many is everyone?"

Jake narrowed his eyes a second.

"Never mind." The counting was making me nervous. With no makeup I was about to face a house of werewolves. Was I going into this meeting to discuss the Lauren problem or was I going to end up defending her? I didn't know anything. It was frustrating. At least Jake was with me. I squeezed his hand.

Jake smiled at me, seeming every bit as nervous as I was, and pushed the door open. He led me inside. The first room was the kitchen. It wasn't big, average size really, but the bunch of muscled shirtless young men filled every empty space. I half expected to see a cabinet open with another one hidden inside. For a long moment all I could see was abs. Another long moment passed with only my eyes functioning. I heard Jacob introduce me and I did notice them staring with a mixture of worry and curiosity. But mostly I saw the toned bodies and felt like I'd wandered into a magazine shoot for shorts. I heard Jacob say my name twice and my brain rebooted.

"They're not going to hurt you," Jake said reassuringly, mistaking the reason for my gawking.

I nodded. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

The table and most of the available counter space had plates of food. There were more than a triple dozen of muffins—and the room smelled deliciously of freshly baked pastry and berries. There were rolls stuffed with cheese and something meaty. There were also recently empty plates home to crumbs. The shirtless people were stuffing their faces like (no joke) ravenous wolves.

There was one other female in the kitchen. She was wearing a long cotton dress with embroidery in blue and red. She had long black hair with part of it braided and pinned like a headband. She had smooth copper skin, pristine posture, and to die for cheekbones, round and high with an ample curve. She was beautiful. She also had scars. It was only the right side of her face and a small knick on her bare shoulder. There was a hint that there might be something along her collarbone but it was under her clothing. The lines on her face went from hairline to chin. There was a small indent in the hairline. The scar had moved it back, so that nothing could grow at the edge, right above her temple. Her right eye and the corner of her mouth were permanently dragged down. There was some discolouration, her skin not as smooth or bright as it was on the opposite side. As forewarned I did not stare. There were plenty of other things that could draw my eyes, including the very tall shirtless wonder with his arms crossed who was standing beside the woman as she put out another plateful fresh from the oven. The others were pigging out and he was staring at me with the occasional blink. He had to be the top dog. Sam. Jake had mentioned something about not listening to Sam once he'd smelled my scent by the meadow.

"Jacob told you everything," Sam said. His voice was even, but his eyes were pinched.

"I guessed a lot," I said, trying to keep Jake from getting in trouble for his honesty. "I also used to hang around the Cullens. I spot supernatural stuff really easy these days."

"You were fine hanging around a group of murderers?" Sam asked.

"The Cullens aren't murderers," I said. My nervousness was gone. No one in that room was disagreeing with Sam. They looked offended that I was. "Carlisle has been around for hundreds of years and he hasn't hurt a soul. He's saved people."

"By turning them into monsters?" one said between bites of a stuffed roll.

"No, by saving them," I said bitterly. "He's a doctor. And he's never turned anyone that was past the point of saving—medically."

"You're on their side," Sam said with acid in his voice. "You think we should have spared your vampire friend talking with you and your human friend?"

I balled my hand into a fist and stepped forward. Jake held me back.

"That vampire wanted to kill her," Jake said calmly, "I told you that, Sam. He was after Bella because some other vampire wants to kill her."

"So the Cullens are good but these two are the exception to the rule?" Sam asked, ignoring Jake and not looking away from me.

"I'm not saying all vampires are good," I answered. "They're probably mostly bad. Like the one that killed my mom and tortured me."

The woman looked at Sam with softness and concern. She wasn't looking at me like I was an intruder. "Sam," she said, touching his arm, "you don't need to interrogate her. She's been through enough."

Jake put his hand on my shoulder and leaned down to touch his forehead to mine. "Bella, I…I'm sorry." He raised his head and hugged me. He shot Sam a glare. "Bella isn't a problem. I brought her because we have two problems and neither of them of her fault. That vampire we killed has a friend who is probably on her way to Forks."

Some of the pack paused eating. The others finished a few more mouthfuls before focusing on the conversation. Werewolves seemed to require a lot of food. When it was clear that after a slight nod that Sam wasn't going to question me more, Jake grabbed a muffin and then a roll.

"Since you frown on murder I'm hoping you have a peaceful suggestion on how to deal with the innocent human who witnessed the vampire-werewolf brawl," I reminded. The second problem seemed a bigger deal than the first. Killing Victoria was a clear goal. Making Lauren go away was not simple.

"Innocent? Jake told us this girl is as wicked they come—human, anyway." Embry spoke up from the end of the kitchen table. He was the rare pack member not confused why I was there.

"She's…not good, but she's innocent," I agreed. "Before that day in the woods she didn't know anything about vampires or werewolves. But the vampire you saved us from wasn't being subtle about what he was and you guys aren't exactly normal-sized wolves."

"Bella has a point," Embry said with a wink. "We are big."

A few of them snickered but quieted when the woman gave them a knowing smile. She shook her head at them.

"How much does she know?" Sam asked. He finally looked at Jake.

"Exactly what Bella told you," Jake insisted. "Bella isn't keeping anything from us." He moved to stand in front of me, blocking my view of Sam. "She needs our protection. That's why we exist. To protect people from vampires."

"She chose to get involved with them," Sam said quietly.

"She didn't," Jake countered. "They chose her."

I stepped back. The woman beside Sam noticed. No one else seemed to. Sam and Jake were too busy arguing about how innocent I was. Being here hadn't felt like such a great idea to begin with but now...

The part that made it worse was that Jake knew I hadn't chosen to side with the Cullens. But how much did he know? Was he guessing based on what little I'd told him? He knew I'd been afraid of Edward and then suddenly started dating him. Now he knew a vampire killed my mom. He knew two vampires were after me; one of them recently deceased thanks to werewolves. The phrase that made me sick to me stomach was that he somehow knew 'They chose her'. Jake had invited me here and wasn't keeping any secrets from me now. Did that mean I had to tell him everything? Was that fair? The special scent of my blood that made Edward crazy for me and his fight against his instincts—those were precious and secret details. I wasn't sure I was ready to admit how much choice Edward had.

"Emily, step back," warned Sam.

The woman—Emily—moved back and her eyes were on Jacob. He was shaking. The others were still. They were watching to see what Jake would do. No, they were seeing if he would change. Jake had warned me that his new werewolf-self wasn't stable.

"Jake?" I asked weakly. "Are you alright?"

He stopped shaking. He breathed out in a huff. "Yeah. I'm fine."

I cautiously stepped forward and laid my hand on his back. He relaxed. He smiled over his shoulder and I took his hand.

Sam nodded at Emily. She rolled exhaled softly. "Good. I don't think I can afford to replace another kitchen table. Not with the roof repairs."

They all laughed. "You mean the free labour doesn't help?" one of them teased. The tension was gone. Jake laughed—although half-heartedly—with them. Sam cracked a smile.

"If the free labour would ever get to work it would," Emily joked. "Besides, you're paid your body weight in baked goods."

That earned another full house of deep-toned laughter.

"Bella, feel free to help yourself," Emily added with a kind smile. "Don't let them bully you."

"Is Bella going to fix the roof?" Embry asked. "I think we should reserve rations for the workers." He stuffed a second muffin in his full mouth.

"If you start baking you can start deciding rations," Sam said, his eyes bright. He laid his arm across Emily's shoulders. He had relaxed. Somehow he'd gotten over his distrust of me. Was it because Emily had basically told him to? Maybe it wasn't that he trusted me but he was willing to give me a chance.

"Now that everyone has calmed down," Emily suggested, "why don't we discuss the problems Jacob mentioned."

Sam nodded. "Bella, whatever we decide you can tell Lauren, you'll go along with?"

I frowned. "As long as it keeps her safe," I agreed.

"That's all I needed to hear." Sam leaned against a counter and crossed his arms. "Now this vampire we killed, he was after you, Bella, and there's another one on her way?"

"Yes, she—" I paused. Laurent's words came back to me. "Oh God."

Sam narrowed his eyes. Jake touched my shoulder.

"It's not just her," I remembered. "Laurent—the vampire—he said she wasn't alone. She was turning people. She was making an army. In case the Cullens were around to protect me."

The whole room went quiet. The happiness turned stern and afraid.

"The vampire said this female vampire was making an army?" Sam asked.

I nodded. I grabbed the hand Jake had laid on my shoulder. "Newborn vampires—twice as strong as regular vampires and from what I've heard they're not easy to pin down—even for another vampire." What had the Cullens told me about newborns? Strong, a little crazy, and was there anything else? "Victoria—the female vampire—turned one and he turned ten and Laurent said they would each turn ten. Even if they stop there, that's a lot of vampires." I looked around the room. Taking out one vampire might be doable for a pack, but if Victoria made as many as Laurent hinted there would be too many. "She was pissed because Edward killed her mate to save me."

Sam and Emily exchanged a knowing look. The others looked more agitated than scared now.

"If they're new, they're inexperienced," Sam reasoned. "If we're careful we can stay safe. Starting now, no one goes into the woods with less than three. Got it?" They all grumbled and nodded. "This explains a lot."

I looked at Jake. He looked from me to Sam with a question in his eyes. Sam nodded.

"Becoming a werewolf doesn't just happen, it has to be triggered," Jake explained. "Sam changed because the Cullens were around. A few more changed because of that…but a lot of us have changed. A lot more than expected. If there are a lot of vampires being made nearby"—he shrugged—"it makes sense that there needs to be more of us."

With wide eyes and pity in my heart I looked around the room. They hadn't become werewolves because of a bite or because it was part of a messed up puberty. They were made into protectors. We had one huge thing in common: we had no choice. We weren't invited; we were already there.

"How long do we have until Forks is 30 Days of Night?" asked Jared—if I was remembering the introductions I'd spaced out on. He was tall, close in height to Sam. He had younger features, warmer, and slimmer.

Puzzled looks were exchanged. A few shrugs too. I knew it was a vampire movie, but I couldn't recall any connections to the creation of a vampire army. Finally the one with the permanently furrowed brow sat forward and said, "This is more of a 300 situation than 30 Days of Night—and we're the 300."

"Noted," Sam said, stifling a smirk.

"Can we aim for some optimistic movie comparisons?" Emily smiled delicately and put her hand on Sam's back. "Narnia?"

"Of course you pick one where the wolves are bad," the angry one—Paul—said with an eye roll.

There were a few snickers. Everyone had a chance to voice a movie suggestion. There wasn't one that they agreed on. Each suggestion reminded them of another—and they seemed to increase in pessimism. The mood improved despite the graphic details that made Emily and I exchange expressions equally disgusted and amused. After a few minutes Sam took control.

"We're not going to solve this if we find the right movie title," Sam said. "We will find a way. The first step is keeping our eyes open. Find out which direction they're coming from—my guess is the female vampire needed to head somewhere more populated to choose her victims."

"North," I said. "Somewhere between here and Alaska."

Once again all eyes locked on me. Most doubted me.

"The vampire who you saved me and Lauren from was trying to settle in Alaska," I explained. I almost added a more precise location…but it didn't seem fair to cast blame on the only other non-murderer vampire coven I'd heard of. Unless it became relevant, it was a detail my conscience demanded I keep secret. "It's not one-hundred-percent, but if that's where he came from and he only left because Victoria—the female vampire—asked him to…"—I shrugged—"she probably stopped somewhere so he could go on ahead on check things out."

"Makes sense," Jake agreed.

Sam nodded. "We focus in that direction."

"I'd hate to assign homework," Emily said with a grimace, "but we should probably keep an eye on the news. See where the most disappearances are. There are more than a few populated areas between here and Alaska."

"Combine Emily's brilliant homework suggestion and Bella's insider intel," Embry joked, his voice deep and his eyes narrowed comically, "I think we can find ourselves a blood-sucker army."

"Insider intel?" I whispered to Jake.

"You were with one of them," Paul said coldly.

I crossed my arms. Paul's every muscle was tight, like he was about to pounce. He wasn't grumpy for kicks; he had a grudge. But it wasn't my fault, whatever his problem was. I glared back at him. One mad werewolf I could handle. As long as they weren't all mad at me at once. Glancing around the room, most of them avoided meeting my eyes, but it wasn't because of rage. Some of them were mildly curious, maybe confused, but they were judging. I saw a little pity from Jared. Embry made a little 'o' with his mouth. Jake inched closer. It was a bit possessive, but I kind of preferred having him in front of me—if Paul did freak out Jake was better equipped to fight off a surprise attack. But that didn't mean I would let Paul think I needed Jake in front of me. Oh, no. I kept on glaring.

Paul started to shake. He stood. He wobbled on his feet. Everyone else stood too, making a circle to cut Paul off from Emily and—to my surprise—me. Sam shielded Emily, his body tensed, ready to lunge if Paul dared come an inch closer to her.

"Not in my house, Paul," Emily warned. Her voice was strong, but her mouth quivered.

Paul nodded and ran for the door. It slammed open.

"Jake, Jared, go after him," Sam ordered.

Jake gave a quick look, wanting to stay even as he stepped forward. I smiled at him to let him know I was fine and let go of his hand. He and Jared raced out the door to chase down Paul.

Emily let out a loud sigh and sat down at the kitchen table. She picked up a muffin and started picking pieces off. "Why don't you have a seat, Bella?"

Gratefully, I gave my weak legs a rest and sat across from Emily, in the chair beside Embry. With Jake gone, one of his best friends was the next safest place.