A/N: And finally the conclusion. I'm sorry it took me so long, but I was busy. I hope you enjoy it! Besides, I wanted to say thank you to all those people who wrote reviews or added me or my story to their fav lists! Thanks, guys! It means a lot to me.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything; it's all property of Stephenie Meyer.
8. PAST
BELLA
No.
A little word, yet as it echoed through my mind it drowned out every other conscious thought.
No.
Why was he here? What did he want?
My brain, despite being temporarily preoccupied, delivered the answers immediately. The article. He must have read it and decided to take action; it's what he, what his family would do. He'd come across my scent and, thinking it was the killer's, followed it here. My gaze fell on the pictures and letters on my bed, which he'd arranged according to date. He had discovered it was me, so he'd decided to wait for me to come back. He had to make sure I wasn't the killer.
At least it hadn't been Victoria after all.
I should have felt relieved, but as I was standing there, facing Edward, my muscles frozen in place even though my instincts were screaming at me to run, I couldn't help wishing that he had, for if I were dead at least I wouldn't have to feel the pain, the despair I'd thought I had under control ripping through my body, tearing the hole in my chest open again.
I'd never thought, never expected to see him again. I'd never wanted to—not after I'd finally gotten better—because I'd known it would make things so much harder for me, so much more painful. I felt my fists clench and was glad he couldn't see how much his presence bothered my; my arms were still crossed in front of my chest to keep it from falling apart, my hands hidden. Why was he here? Why had he decided to stay behind, and why had the others—whoever had been with him—decided not to? My brain helpfully answered that question, too. I was no longer important to them just as I'd always suspected, for if I were they would have been here. It was just Edward, who'd left me in the forest, broken; just Edward, whose face was blank as he stared at me, devoid of any emotion, no doubt trying to hide his disgust at having to be here because his family didn't want anything to do with me; just Edward, who didn't love me anymore; just Edward, the only man I would ever love, as long as I lived.
I had imagined what it would be like to meet him again; I would be lying if I said I hadn't. Lying awake at night as a human and sitting in front of the window, staring outside into the dark now I sometimes thought about what I would say to him, what I would say to any member of his family, should I ever happen to meet them again. I'd never allowed myself to believe he'd take me back; I neither an idiot nor masochistic. Now, however, I didn't remember the words, didn't even remember how to speak. I wanted to tell him to get the hell out of my house, but I couldn't.
Wasn't Victoria's return enough? Why did I have to deal with Edward as well?
I made myself look into his face, his eyes. He was as beautiful as I remembered him, of course, even more now that I was no longer half-blind, and yet his face was empty and his eyes, golden, not black as mine, full of pain. He wore an expression I knew well; I'd seen it a million times whenever I happened to glance into a mirror. He wasn't well; I could see that. But why?
And why did I care?
No more than a second had passed since I turned, no time at all for a human, but forever for a vampire. We were facing each other, motionless, my arms still wrapped around my torso, Edward's limp by his side as if he didn't have the strength to raise them. Neither of us moved and neither of us spoke. In fact, there was no sound at all, not even the sound of our breathing. I didn't want to be the one to break the silence. He'd broken into my home, my sanctuary. He was the intruder.
However, in the end I did speak first, unable to stand the silence any longer. I forced my arms to relax and folded them behind me back, pretending to be calm, indifferent, hoping Edward still couldn't read my mind—maybe my transformation had taken the gift of privacy away from me—and would remain ignorant of the turmoil raging inside me. "What do you want?"
He winced as if he'd been hit. Was it my voice? It was clearer than he'd remember it, more melodious than before, a tiny, almost insignificant compared to everything else that had changed when I became a vampire, but still a change. Edward didn't answer. I'd never seen him speechless, not ever, and I had to smother a mile; then I remembered how uncharacteristic it was of him not to know what to say, and the urge to laugh was instantly replaced by worry. He'd left me, he'd told me he didn't love me anymore, and although I hadn't seen him in nine years I felt worried because he wasn't his usual confident self? I wanted to be angry, but how could I? He'd broken up with me because he didn't love me anymore; was it his fault I was still irrevocably in love with him? It wasn't, and I had no right to be angry, and that's why I couldn't. My empty chest, however, was on fire, the pain intenser than it had been in years.
"I'm here to talk to you," he said eventually, and my eyes widened. I'd tried to remember his voice, but hearing it now I knew I'd never remembered it correctly. I forced the mask of indifference back on my face, however.
"More than talk, obviously," I replied, incline my head at the letters and pictures he'd laid on the bed, amazed at how calm my voice was. "You had no right to read my private mail."
"I know," he said, which wasn't what I'd expected; the Edward I'd known would never have admitted that he was wrong because he simply didn't believe that he could ever be wrong about something. "I'm sorry. We know about the murders," he added after a moment; his voice was as expressionless as my own. "I know you didn't do it," he said, at the same time as I said, "I didn't kill them." Edward smiled, his expression softened for just a second, and pain, hot and searing, tore at my empty chest. I didn't allow the despair to reach my face; I managed to keep it blank and indifferent, and Edward's smile, the smile I'd missed so much, faded.
I glanced outside into the colourful darkness, averting my gaze; I didn't know if I'd be able to hide the pain for much longer, and I didn't want him to see it, didn't want him to witness my breakdown. "I think you should leave now," I said, no longer looking at him. "Please don't come back."
He didn't reply, but I heard him turn and move toward the door; there he paused. "Alice asked me to tell you that she loves you," he said, and then he was gone.
Alice asked me to tell you that she loves you.
Alice. I'd missed her so much, still missed her. I'd had friends and acquaintances, but I'd never really had a friend like her, and when they left I'd found myself desperately longing for her company. I'd wanted her to come back just as much as I'd wanted Edward to come back, and at first I'd refused to believe that maybe, just maybe, Alice didn't love me as much as I loved her. In the end, however, I'd given in.
Alice asked me to tell you that she loves you.
Did she? If so, then why wasn't she here? Why had she never come back? Alice must have seen Victoria's decision to attack me, and she must have seen what would happen to me. Why hadn't she been there to stop her?
Why was it still so hard even after all these years?
I looked at the bed again, the letters and e-mails he'd read, the pictures he'd gone through although he'd had no right to; he was no longer part of my life and my past none of his business, and still he'd intruded. Why? He didn't care about me anymore, he'd told me so himself, so why did he care about my past now, about what had happened to me? I wrapped my arms around my chest again to keep it together. It hurt, it hurt so badly, worse than it had in years; a vampire's capacity to feel, truly feel emotions, was greater than a human's who'd never be able to experience every facet of it the way a vampire could. You're thirsty, a small part of my mind said, the rational part which was still capable of thinking around the pain, around the despair threatening to engulf me, it's always worst when you're thirsty. It was, yes, it was, and suddenly I knew what to do. I never should have let myself go without food for so long.
I dashed to the closet, pulling out a pair of old jeans and a black shirt which would survive a run through the forest even as I yanked my blouse off my shoulders and my slacks off my legs. I darted out of the room, grabbing my purse which held my car keys as I did, down the stairs and back into the night, and then I was back in my car, the key already in the ignition. I brought my foot down on the accelerator. The Porsche leapt forward, going forty before I'd even left my street, ninety as I rounded the corner. The car swerved sideways; the street was wet and muddy with greyish snow, and I yanked the steering wheel around and narrowly avoided crashing into a parked Ford.
At this time of day traffic moved sluggishly, and the weather didn't do a thing to help matters. I weaved through the throng of cars going a hundred miles an hour, way too fast, but I had to get away, had to get out of the city right now, and I got lucky. I didn't pass a single radar trap, and despite the weather no traffics cops seemed to be on duty tonight, and I was out of the city in less then fifteen minutes. It didn't occur to me then that I was risking other people's lives—if I totalled the Porsche, I could walk away without a scratch on me, but whoever I took with me wouldn't be so lucky—I was too focused on getting away.
Anchorage lay behind me. I turned off the headlights and floored it, racing down the familiar road, the border only a few hundred miles away. I tried not to think, cranking up the music until my ears hurt, and I succeeded. Almost. My thoughts would stray back to Edward, my past, and I'd yank them away and try to focus on what lay ahead instead of behind me. It wasn't easy.
I crossed the border without problems—I smiled at the officer, dazzled him so he'd forget what he'd wanted to ask; I rarely dazzled people, because it didn't seem fair to me, but now I didn't care—and gradually the landscape changed, became greener and denser, and suddenly the snow was gone, too. I knew the area well; my hunting grounds weren't far from here. I hid the car in its usual spot, dragging branches across it so nobody would accidentally stumble across it, wonder why someone would leave her Porsche parked in the middle of nowhere and call the police because he suspected foul play—which was the last thing I needed; how would I explain what I was doing out here? I didn't have a single piece of camping gear with me—and set off into the dark forest, slowly at first, then slower, the miles melting away under my feet.
I wasn't looking for anything specific; I would have settled for almost everything, a deer, maybe an elk. The scent I eventually came across, however, was better, much better, and I felt a little smile spread across my face. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, the cold air, saturated with the scent of a bear which hadn't gone into hibernation yet, streaming down my throat, and I allowed my senses to take over, and when I did my mind went blank, my problems momentarily forgotten, every single aspect of my being focused on the hunt now.
I loved to hunt. I hadn't in the beginning, though. I'd seen Bambi, and the prospect of killing an innocent little deer had horrified me, curiously much more than killing a human who accidentally crossed my path while I was on the hunt and had little control over my actions ever had. Then again I'd never had a problem watching movies where people got killed—often in gruesome ways; Jake, like any other guy, enjoyed that kind of movies to an extent I'd sometimes found disturbing. I didn't anymore, though; things were sort of different when you were a monster yourself—but when the victim was an animal I had to leave the room. I'd gotten used to the idea, eventually. I'd had to; there just weren't that many bears out there, and none in winter, and after a while I didn't care what I killed anymore—as long as it wasn't human—and I'd discovered, after a few months, that I enjoyed hunting, enjoyed it a lot, because I didn't have to pretend to be something I was not, didn't have to measure my strength, and while I was glad that I was finally able to be among humans again, at least as long as they weren't bleeding, I sometimes missed the life I'd briefly led after I was changed. I needed to be among other humans, among people, but sometimes it was just so hard.
The scent, while already a few days old, was easy to follow, and it grew stronger and fresher the further I ventured into the forest, led by my senses alone as I ran, truly ran, at full speed which I rarely did, to catch up with my prey. I'd always wondered how Edward avoided crashing into a tree when I ran; I didn't anymore. Everything should have been blurry and indistinct, streaks of different colours at most, but even as I ran at what I estimated had to be several hundred miles an hour I saw every single tree, every bush, every stone and rock as clearly as if I was merely sauntering by. I was running so very fast, but it didn't feel fast to me at all. I paused briefly to determine whether I was upwind or downwind, and when I realised I was downwind and the bear would smell me approach and my instincts told me to run a circle and go at it from the other side, upwind, so it wouldn't even know I was there, I ignored them. After all it was unlikely, impossible really, that the bear would be able to harm me, and if my clothes got torn in the process, well, I could always order new shirts online. Besides, maybe wrestling a bear would ease some of the pain, some of the despair and frustration.
I could hear it move now, and I briefly wondered why it wasn't asleep, then decided I didn't care. I peeked through the lower branches of a spruce and saw the bear, not fifteen feet from me, nibbling tiny red berries off a bush. I didn't know if it had heard or smelled me; it suddenly reared up on its haunches, turning its head and bearing its sharp yellow teeth, the twig with the berries still clutches in its paws. It roared, a warning for me to go away, and I felt my smile widen and my lips pull back over my teeth, slick with venom pooling in my mouth, and then I charged. I landed on its broad, warm chest, and the bear toppled over, swiping its claws at me angrily, roaring out in fury. I felt its claws, each of them almost two inches long and sharp, rake over my skin, and my leather jacket fell off my shoulders, ruined beyond repair. I hauled the bear around, pressing it into the dirty ground, allowing it to throw me off, but only for a second, then, just when it had managed to get to its feet again, I leapt onto its back where it couldn't reach me. My arms closed around its thick neck, and I felt the blood pulse furiously underneath the skin. Its cries grew fainter, weaker, and its movements sluggish, and then it suddenly fell to the ground. I brushed my hair aside as I lowered myself over its neck, and greedily sucked the hot, sweet blood out of its body until I felt satisfied for the moment, the pain in my throat barely noticeable now, and the pain in my chest not nearly as strong as it had been before.
I sat back, breathing heavily. I'd get rid of the body, and then what? I didn't know what to do next. I didn't want to go home yet, afraid Edward might still be there—he'd never been very good at doing what he was told—and I didn't want to face him again. I knew I'd have to eventually, even though I hoped otherwise, but if they were in Anchorage now it was only a matter of time until I ran into one of them again, if only by accident. And then there was still Victoria, of course.
No, I didn't want to return to Anchorage just yet. Maybe… No, I discarded the thought as quickly as it had occurred to me. I couldn't. I wasn't allowed to cross the border into Washington. Sam had insisted on it if Jake and I wanted to keep in touch. But… Things were different now, weren't they? Jake had been ordered to leave me alone, and I was no longer obliged to abide by Sam's rules. I'd have to be careful of course, and quick. Charlie would be asleep when I got there, but I couldn't risk talking to him anyway, so maybe if I could just see his face one more time… I missed him so much, and my human memories were so terribly hazy and blurry and almost gone, and I didn't want to forget my father.
I sat up, determined. I was going home.
I buried the bear under a tree, then made sure the car was still where I'd left it before I set off again; the border was less than a hundred miles away, no distance at all for a vampire, but I didn't travel as fast as before, because I needed time to think. I had to come up with a plan. After all, I couldn't just waltz into Forks; the pack would be watching—and if Jake had gotten my call, someone would be at my house, keeping an eye on my father—and while I didn't think they'd actually kill me, I wasn't sure, and experience had taught me not to rely on assumptions. I'd assumed Victoria wouldn't come after me again—then and now—and I'd been wrong. I knew it wasn't a very good idea to return to Forks. I'd seen the wolves in action, and even though I'd never actually seen them tear up a vampire I'd heard Jake's very detailed account of what they'd done to Laurent, and I didn't want to suffer the same fate. I was outnumbered, the treaty Jake had told me about didn't cover me, and Sam had been very clear about what would happen if I ever went back to Washington.
No, it wasn't a very good idea to return to Forks. I was aware that today's events were clouding my judgement, but I didn't know where else to go. I no longer felt safe in Anchorage, not just because of Victoria, but because of Edward and his family, too, and I didn't want to return just yet. Maybe I was making a mistake, but if I died tonight, then at least Victoria would have no reason to kill any more innocent people, and I was pretty sure being torn apart by a wolf the size of a horse couldn't be any more unpleasant than what Victoria had planned for me.
I snorted. "You're not being morbid at all," I told myself sarcastically.
Forks wasn't very far now. I'd covered fifty miles in less than two minutes, and the border was very close, but I wanted to go over my plan—if you could call it a plan—again, and I stopped, breathing as evenly as if I had been walking at a leisurely pace instead of running. It had been unnerving at first, not having to breathe any faster when you'd been running so fast, but I'd gotten used to it eventually. I suppose there weren't that many things you didn't get used to in the end. I stared into the dark forest in front of me, a hundred different shades of purple, beautiful in a way, but I didn't pay attention to it right now. I'd give La Push a wide berth, I decided, which was the pack's priority even if it meant taking a detour; Forks wouldn't be nearly as heavily protected as the reservation itself, which would it make easier for me to get in and get out before they even realised I was there. If Jake had received my call and managed to talk Sam into sending someone up to Forks to keep an eye on my father I might have to turn around and leave—and hope that whoever it was didn't jump me the second he smelled me—but maybe he hadn't, and even if he had there was a chance the house was temporarily unprotected (I'd chew Jake out later, of course, if that was the case); then I'd get in and out and leave and nobody would be the wiser. They'd know I'd been there, of course, because Jake was familiar with my scent, but I couldn't have cared less.
I snorted again. I wasn't just morbid, I was suicidal.
I scanned the forest, which was silent; they animals knew I was here by now and they instinctively avoided me, didn't even cry out, all of them silenced by fear. Nothing moved. "Now or never," I told myself and set off once more, running at full speed again, my feet barely touching the ground which was wildly overgrown. It felt as if I was flying, and I smiled, if only a little, for I loved running fast, which I rarely did, as much as liked driving fast. A vampire thing, I suppose. I didn't revel in the sensation now, however. I focused on my surroundings instead, my acute senses registering every noise, every sound, every scent. As I ran on, covering mile after mile, the landscape, a landscape which had once reminded me of an alien planet, became achingly familiar, and I was glad I'd returned, if only for the chance to replace my fading human memories, at least a handful of them, with a vampire's eternal ones.
I did cross several werewolf trails of varying age on my way in, however, none of them was recent, and I didn't find a fresh one—well, fresher—until I reached the town limits of Forks; apparently they'd changed their patrol patterns, and I briefly wondered why, then decided it was none of my business. Besides, who was I to look a gift horse—wolf?—in the mouth?
My father's house hadn't changed at all, but then Forks itself hadn't changed much, either. Aside from a few repainted houses the town was exactly as I remembered it. I approached the house carefully, always ready to bolt in case a giant wolf suddenly jumped out at me from among the trees, but I was alone (which meant I would have to leave Jacob another message later; I didn't want to tell him how to do his job, but he clearly wasn't doing it) and I quickly took the spare key out of its hiding place and unlocked the door to let myself in; no werewolf would fit into my father's little house—well, Seth might have, but he had outgrown his gangliness years ago—and they wouldn't want to risk waking him anyway, because he might see something he wasn't supposed to and start the rumours going again, and I felt instantly safer.
I smelled dust and spoilt food. I smiled and shook my head in mild exasperation. Apparently, some things never changed. Charlie's scent, the only human scent in here, was strongest, and I detected at least four, maybe five—I wasn't sure, because I had nothing to compare them with—different werewolf scents, one of them Jake's. I was glad they still spent time together; it meant that I didn't have to worry about Charlie's safety.
I glanced up the stairs, listening to the sound of Charlie's even breathing. He was fast asleep. Still, I moved as carefully as I could as I walked up stairs, slowly, one step at a time, my hand on the banister. On top of the stairs, I paused, considering where to go first, my room or Charlie's, but the latter win out. I hadn't seen him in two years, and I longed to see his face. I opened the door carefully, afraid it might squeal; it swung opened quietly, the hinges obviously recently oiled, and I stepped inside. I hovered in the doorway. I didn't want to go closer. He might wake up and see me and I had no idea what I'd tell him if he did. Charlie lay on his back, and I saw his face clearly. I swallowed. He'd changed so much since I last saw him. He'd aged. Deep lines were etched into his face even in sleep, and his hair was almost white in places. His skin was grey with age, almost ashen, and I didn't like the sound of his heart beat at all; I'd asked Jake to make Charlie go see a cardiologist.
"I love you, Dad," I whispered, turning to leave.
"I love you too, Bells," he sighed, stirring underneath the blanket, and I froze. Had he woken? I stared at his bulky frame, waiting for him to sit up, but he only rolled over on his side. I managed a sad smile. I hadn't known my father was talking in his sleep. I guess that's where I'd gotten my tendency to talk in my sleep from. I closed the door quietly behind me and took a deep breath before I went into my old room. I could tell nobody had been in here for years. Every surface was covered with a thick layer of dust, and the air smelled stale and old. The room held no personal belongings. I had taken everything with me when I went to college, things that now lay scattered on the floor of my spare bedroom floor because Edward had gone through them, too. It was still my room, though, and my own human scent lingered, a scent even I found very appealing—which I probably should have found weird, but didn't—and, although he hadn't been in here for nine years, even a trace of Edward's scent. It was very faint. I turned around, trying to locate the exact spot. He'd touched almost everything in here at some point, of course, but the room had been cleaned so many times. His scent shouldn't have been here. I went down on my knees to look under the bed—though I couldn't even imagine Edward crawling under it—and realised that it didn't come from there at all, but from underneath the floor. I stared at the old wooden floor for a moment, deliberating for a second, then shrugged, and carefully pried away the floorboard. It came away easily. I carefully lifted it up—and froze.
I'd thought he'd taken them with him, every material memory I had of him. I'd been wrong. He'd hidden it underneath the floor, the CD he'd made for me, the vouchers for plane tickets Esme and Carlisle had given me, and the pictures I'd taken, pictures showing Edward on glorious perfection beside my plain human self, her face red as usual.
I should burn them, I thought in a flash of anger, but it faded as quickly as it had come. I sat back and closed my eyes. I felt exhausted, tired even, and my chest ached dully, but I made myself stand up, gather the items and tuck them into an old jacket which I found at the bottom of my closet and which I hadn't worn since I was fourteen. I put the floorboard back and took one last look before I left and closed the door behind me. I wasn't going to come back, and I wanted to make sure I'd remember it.
I sighed as I stepped back out into the night. I locked the door and put the key back, then straightened and looked at the house again to burn it into my mind; I wanted to linger, watch my father sleep, but I knew I'd better leave. I turned and squawked, and Jake, despite his disapproving expression, snorted with laughter, and so did the wolves by his side, which, after a quick glance, turned out to be Embry and Quil, who always ran with him. I scowled at them, teeth bared just a little, which shut them up nicely. I smiled, a smile that quickly vanished when Jake growled at me, and it wasn't very hard to imagine what he was saying. I swallowed. At least they hadn't attacked me yet, which meant that either Sam didn't know I was here or hadn't given Jake specific orders yet.
"So…" I said, not knowing what to say. "Hi?" It sounded like a question. Jake butted his head into my chest in response, so hard I stumbled back, and I hastily shifted my weight, arms swinging awkwardly like windmills, to avoid crashing into the door. Quil huffed, amused. Jake snapped around, nipping his foreleg so hard he drew blood—which, thank God, didn't smell the least bit appealing to me—and Quil yelped in consternation. Embry grinned at me, clearly enjoying himself, and Jake sighed. They weren't taking the situation as seriously as he thought they should. It felt surreal, standing here in front of my father's house with three gigantic werewolves. I smiled a little. Jake glared at me, ears flat against his skull; he didn't think the situation was even the least bit funny at all. Well, I did. I glared back at him angrily, deciding that offence was the best defence.
"Did you get my message? Why wasn't anyone here when I came?" I put my hands on my hips and, raising my eyebrows at him, gave him the look I used—well, used to use—on kids kids who misbehaved while I was trying to examine them. It felt a little ridiculous to be honest, and Quil seemed to think so too, because all but howled with laughter, already having forgotten Jake's less-than-subtle hint to get a grip. The sound cut through the nightly silence like a knife. "Shut up!" I hissed at the same time Jake knocked Quil clear off the ground, hovering over him with bared teeth; Charlie was a heavy sleeper, but he wasn't deaf. He might not come running—he probably couldn't anymore—but he'd sure as hell take a peek out his bedroom window, and the last thing the pack needed were new rumours about giant wolves roaming the area. Quil grunted. An apology? This way of communicating was very tiresome.
"Look," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose to clear my head, "I know I'm not supposed to be here and I was just leaving anyway. It's just… I've had a really crappy day." I sighed. If only I were able to sleep, to escape reality for a few hours. The world might just look a little brighter after a few hours of rest. Or it might look just as dark as it did now. "I'm sorry if I got you in trouble with Sam."
Jake huffed. I had no idea what he was trying to tell me. "You know," I said, "I'm not exactly an expert at canine communication."
Jake sighed, ignoring Quil and Embry's amused expressions, and stomped into the bushes, gesturing for me to follow. I glanced at the house for one last time, then wove through the undergrowth without making a sound, flanked by Quil and Embry, who, even though they were trying to be quiet, were still the size of ponies, and the bushes rustled and twigs snapped underneath their paws as they forced their way into the woods. I parked myself on a low-hanging branch to make room. Embry wedged himself under it so that my feet almost touched the fur of his neck, and Quil sat down where he was, hunched together to fit underneath a young spruce. He kept shifting his position; the tree's needles were bothering him despite his thick fur. Jake was nowhere to be seen. He was probably phasing. "How are you, guys?" I asked.
Embry managed to shrug, and the tree I was sitting on shook as he rammed his massive shoulder into the mossy trunk. "Same old same old?" I asked, and he nodded carefully.
"How's Claire?" I asked, the question directed at Quil this time. In response he grinned brightly. "I take it everything is great?" Yes, a very tiresome way of communicating.
Quil nodded vigorously.
"They're engaged," Jake said, finally emerging from behind the trees, wearing nothing but a pair of old sweats. I smiled sadly. Jake hadn't changed at all, and I wanted to fling myself into his arms and hug him, but I wasn't sure how he'd react to that and fought down the urge. Jake sighed, climbed over Quil and pulled me into a brief, but fierce hug; he was so tall that he had no problems reaching me even though I was sitting at least four feet above the ground. Wrinkling his nose, he pulled back. "Ugh. It's worse than I remembered," he said, rubbing his nose vigorously to chase the sent away.
"You don't exactly smell of roses either, dog!" I shot back. Quil and Embry snorted. I ignored them, and so did Jake. "I hope Sam's not too mad at you," I said after a while. "I'm sorry."
"Well, Sam kind of doesn't know yet," Jake admitted. "He took the night off and we, um, might have forgotten to wake him. He'll be really pissed, though, when he learns you were here," he continued and sighed again. "I'm not looking forward to that. Why did you come, anyway? I got your message, and I'm sorry nobody was here when you showed up, but that's kind of your own fault. Embry and Quil have been tracking you since you crossed the border—I'm surprised you didn't notice them—but they didn't know it was you, so…" He trailed off, shrugging.
"I didn't come to check up on you," I said. "It's just… I've had a really bad day and I didn't want to go home. First Victoria, and then…" I fell silent, unsure. Should I tell Jake about Edward? There wasn't anything he could do about it, but he'd be furious that nonetheless. Edward wasn't exactly on top of Jake's list of favourite people, and that had very little to do with the fact that he was a vampire.
"What?" Jake asked. "What's wrong, Bella?"
"I ran into Edward today," I whispered, and Jake's curious expression turned murderous. A low growl rose in his chest, and Quil and Embry snarled. "He broke into my house because he thought I might be behind those killings," I added quickly. "He doesn't know it's Victoria."
"I hope you told him to get the hell out of your life again," Jake replied, trying to hide how furious he was, but I could hear the anger in his voice anyway; I knew him as well.
"I told him to leave and not come back," I said quietly. I didn't know what Jake saw in my face. His anger evaporated almost instantly, and he pulled me into his arms again, half dragging me off the branch. "I'm so sorry," he muttered into my ear. "I wish I could allow you to stay, but…"
"It's alright." I straightened out of his embrace and leapt to the ground. Embry swiftly yanked his tail out of the way. "I couldn't stay anyway. I'll leave soon, I promise. I just wanted to see Charlie…" I shrugged. "Hey, do me a favour and convince him to go see a cardiologist."
"I will," Jake promised.
"And tell Sam I'm sorry. I won't come back. I just wish he'd allow us to stay in touch…"
"Yeah, me too," Jake sighed. "Sam's been under a lot of stress. We've been having trouble with vampires for a few weeks. Sam thinks the redhead is behind it now that you told us that she's after you again. He didn't mind that piece of information at all."
"I bet he didn't," I muttered.
Jake didn't answer, but his expression spoke volumes. Sam and Jake had been on better terms once, before I was changed; after that their relationship had quickly deteriorated. He'd never written about it in any of his letters, but then he didn't have to. I could read between the lines. Jake had begun questioning the way Sam led the pack, and it didn't make things any easier that Sam's position as the pack's Alpha was an assumed one. Jake was the rightful leader of the pack, and he was beginning to question his decision to leave the job to Sam, which Sam knew, of course, because Jake wouldn't be able to hide something that big, and it couldn't make their fragile relationship any easier. I knew Jake's position where vampires were concerned hadn't changed one bit, but neither had his position where I was concerned. I was still just Bella to him. Sam, however, didn't agree.
"I'd better leave now," I said eventually.
"Yeah," Jake agreed lamely.
I managed a ad smile. "See you around," I said, brushing my fingers over Quil and Embry's heads as I passed them, and then I started running again, away from Forks, from home, back to the border.
I didn't look back.
I was back at the car before sunrise. I left a message for Danielle to let her know that I'd be starting my weekend early, then drove on until I found a secluded motel where I rented a room. I didn't spend much time in it. I was glad to have a place to park the car, but I didn't need a place to sleep at. I ran and while I ran I'd tried to figure out what to do. It was hard. I couldn't decide what the best course of action was. I didn't know which way was up and which way was down. I was hunted by Victoria and haunted by Edward, and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to evade either. Victoria wanted to kill me and she had to be dealt with before she could cause anymore damage, but I didn't know how. The Cullens were in Anchorage and I had no idea what to do when I ran into them again, either.
I didn't like it, not having a plan. It probably would have been better to leave Anchorage for good, but as Sunday turned into Monday I was on my way back. Maybe it was a mistake. Well, it definitely was a mistake, because I didn't stand a chance against Victoria. But I'd made my choice.
I didn't want to run away anymore.