I spent that night locked in Alice's room, crying and crying some more until my tears were spent. Then my dry sobs wracked my body, and I wished more than anything that I could cry myself to sleep, but just like getting revenge for my best friend, that was utterly impossible.
That morning, I crept downstairs in the hopes of finding the house deserted. Of course, with my recent twist of luck, that wish was almost immediately annihilated. Esme was cleaning when I made my appearance, but she dropped everything and rushed to give me a hug. She held me closely, and whispered into my ear, "I am so, so sorry about what happened. I feel horrible for not telling you—
I pulled out of her grasp, staring at her in bewilderment. "Esme, there is absolutely no reason for you to be sorry." Even as I said the words, I knew that they were only a half-truth, but she looked half-eaten with worry and I wasn't about to add anything to the pile.
Esme pulled me back into her hug, her lower lip quivering. We stayed there for a while, swaying back and forth. The moment was broken, though, when Alice walked in. She stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene. Then she walked in slowly, sympathy very evident on her face.
"I'm sorry." She murmured, placing one small hand on my shoulder before walking away, through a door to a part of the house I had not seen yet.
I turned to face Esme again, and found it hard to look into the woman's concern-filled eyes. "What happened after I went upstairs?" My voice was hoarse from crying.
Esme replied softly, "Bella went home and Edward went with her. Carlisle went to head-off the werewolves"—I flinched at the mention of them, and Esme hurried to backtrack—"To head them off."
"Head them off?" I asked weakly.
Esme nodded, sitting me down on the couch but keeping my hand in hers. "Yes. They thought that…that he was a newborn. Since his eyes were red." She said, her voice hushed at the mention of Daas and I cringed. Her hands fluttered helplessly over me, like she was afraid I was in physical pain.
"No." I said, trying to force my voice to stop trembling, though I was miserably unsuccessful, "No, he was more than six hundred years old."
Esme was quiet for a moment, evidently taken aback by Daas's age. I had a feeling she would have asked me a question then, something that had to do with him, but spared me the pain of recalling an answer. I was grateful that she didn't. Instead, she said, "Carlisle should be back any minute now."
I nodded, not really listening. I was too caught up with the emotions that were fighting for control within me—anger that no one had told me, although it had been slightly diluted by Esme's sincere apologies; A aching hunger for revenge that I knew was impossible to satisfy; grief that Daas had been taken away from me; and a longing for someone who understood my pain. And none, I knew, were achievable.
When Esme left, I curled up on the couch in the living room, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I wasn't thinking, or I refused to. It was trying to force my mind away from all of my feelings, but it wasn't working in the least. I wanted to b an empty shell, go into a coma, something so that I didn't have to remember what last night was like. I wished all my feelings had turned dull, even the ones who had a painful point before. They obstinately refused to be forgotten, though, and I couldn't get away from them, no matter how hard I tried.
But the guilt eventually wormed its way into my system. The guilt that said, It's all your fault. If you hadn't come here, Daas would still be alive. If you hadn't gone to that stupid beach, he would still be there, sitting beside you in the Cullen's house. And as much as I tried to put the feeling away, it stayed where it was, it's long tentacles spreading discord and unrest to the little parts of me that I had managed to salvage from the wreck that I was. So deep in my thinking, I didn't notice when Carlisle entered the house and slipped away presumably to talk to Esme. I didn't realize that Edward and Bella entered what seemed like seconds later, and that Bella sat on the couch, but as far away from me as it would allow.
"Isabella?" She asked timidly, after a few minutes of watching me stare at the wall.
I turned my head slowly, Bella's words pulling me out of my reverie. "Yes?" My voice had not cleared up any since I had talked with Esme. It was still a feeble croak but right about then, I was too preoccupied with my feelings to care.
Bella took a deep breath. "I want to talk to you. Is that okay?" She asked softly.
I nodded vaguely. "Yes, Bella, you can talk to me if you want to." I was aware of Edward standing in the door, watching me warily, but I found his presence unnecessary. I had never been so in control of my thirst than now.
Bella was looking at her hands. "I talked to…" She trailed off, mustering up enough courage say his name. "I talked to Jacob this morning." She finished. Something inside me flared at the name, but I didn't say anything. Bella glanced at my face. Whatever she found there, it must have reassured her slightly. "And he said that he-he that he was sorry for last night."
I waited—obviously, I was hearing things. The idea that the mangy mongrel had said sorry that he had killed Daas in front of me was ludicrous. Absolutely, positively insane. If he was so sorry, then why had he done it in the first place? It wasn't like Daas's death—inwardly, I recoiled—was something that he could take back, smooth over with just a meek little apology. But when Bella didn't say anything, I began to doubt my resolve. Had she really just passed on an apology from my friend's killer and expect for me to believe it? I saw Edward shift his weight onto his other foot, which I found annoyed me.
"Edward." I sad sternly through my voice was hardly more than a grating sound. "I'm not going to eat her. Seriously, chill." Edward didn't do as I instructed, but remained very still and quiet, examining my face and probably my thoughts, too. I sighed quietly and turned back to Bella, who was looking at Edward too, but turned back to me when she felt my eyes on her.
"The wolf, Jacob." I said, trying hard to keep my voice stable, "Is apologizing to me for killing Daas." Bella flinched. Not at Daas's name, like I did, but the way I said Jacob's. And then, I realized quite suddenly, that I was missing something. "There is something going on," I said slowly, reading Bella's reactions, "That you don't want to tell me."
She dropped her eyes and studied her hands that were folded in her lap. After a few long moments, in which my eyes never left her clouded face, she said, in a voice that was no louder than mine, "You're right." She said, and I think that she was fighting just as much as I was to keep her voice steady.
I deliberated for a moment, and tried to be kind. This was just as hard for her as it was to me, and I had no idea why. But I didn't want to force her to tell me, so I simply asked, "Would you rather me ask or to shut up?"
She looked a little surprised at my reply. She glanced at Edward, who didn't move a fraction of an inch and left the decision to her. He was watching her intently, though, but with a softened expression. But Bella's small movement told me that he was involved, too. "I don't want you to ask." She said hesitantly, "But I feel you need to know at least a little bit of it."
"Sounds fair to me." I said, trying to keep it light.
She looked up at Edward and hesitated. He seemed to understand what she wanted and walked out of the room, shutting the door soundlessly behind him. Bella didn't notice, but the look on his face seemed pained, for some other reason other than reluctance of leaving Bella with me. But they had successfully confused me—what could Bella say that required Edward to leave?
"Is he listening?" Bella said under her breath.
I paused and concentrated. His steps faltered once, like he was about to turn around and come back, but he continued, slowly, forcing one foot to leave the ground after the other. A few more moments passed, just to make sure we had the place to ourselves, before I nodded. "Yes." I said, examining Bella. "He is gone."
"And the others?"
"Gone."
Bella sighed. "Good."
Right then, Bella told me everything. About Jacob, Edward, the Volturi. It all became a puzzle, and the pieces were falling slowly into place, one by one. She blushed quite a bit, did some editing, and had to stop a few times to get her voice from the brink of incoherency, but I could not blame her. The way she said it, the way she told me everything honestly amazed me. I had never experienced anything like it. And I slowly began to realize why she hadn't wanted to say this in front of Edward. I wouldn't have wanted him to hear it, if I had been in her place. I waited for through her story, never interrupting, and remaining emotionless until Bella began to cry a little. I slid over next to her and pulled her into my arms. She froze. I think she thought that I had ulterior motives. I admit, it did cross my mind, but the horrendous thought was banished from my mind faster than immediately. She grew comfortable with me there, and her feelings began to leak more and more into her story. She told the rest of it with me right beside her, not the farthest away we could be on opposite ends of the couch. When she was finished, she had tearstains on her cheek and my shirt had been ruined, but she looked better, with all of her feelings cried, blushed, and wrung out.
We were silent for a long time after she had finished. Neither of us was looking at each other, each of us immersed in our own private thoughts. Finally, I broke the silence.
"Why did you tell me all this?" My voice wasn't as scratchy anymore, for which I was pleased.
"I told you; I felt you needed to know." Bella's voice not as bad as mine, but she sniffled quietly. I pretended not to notice.
"So that was only part of it?" I asked skeptically.
"Well…" She said, meeting my eyes. "No, that's all of it. I sort of got carried away." She smiled a little and I returned it. After a brief pause, she asked, "Will you help me find Edward?"
I smiled to myself. "There's no need. He has been pacing outside of the house for a long time." Bella giggled and got up. I decided to go with her though, needed or not. So I got to my feet and followed her down the stairs of the magnificent house, and trailed after her when she slipped outside.
What I saw made all my previous happiness disappear instantly.
Edward was standing rigidly, ten feet away from him, both staring the other down, waiting for the first sign of weakness.
He looked much more relaxed, hands stuffed into his pockets and leaning to one side casually. He glanced up when he heard Bella. His eyes shifted from the human girl to me. His eyes had a tranquil look about him, though in a secretive manner.
"Zeke?" I gasped.
Zeke's face suddenly wasn't just behind my eyelids anymore. He was here, in the Cullen's front yard. His face was the same look of serenity, of peace about him. I, on the other hand, was astounded. He looked no different from the way I had visualized him, if a little taller and more muscled. And that stupid piercing was still there.
But, no, wait a moment. Theboy that had lurked behind my eyelids—instead, there was a man in front of me. Things that I hadn't noticed before made them selves more prominent as I looked him over. In fact, Zeke had changed since I last saw him. His eyes and hair were the exact same of midnight black, though. His hair was spiked in much the same style that I remembered it, and his eyes still had the depth to them, depth that isn't in regular seventeen year old's eyes. But he didn't look seventeen anymore—he looked twenty-five, tall, lean, and muscular. His hands looked twice the size of a normal person's, his shoulders were broader, and his teal shirt was tighter across his chest. These changes made an unexpected sadness well up inside of me—how long had it been since I had seen him? Four years? Five? Not long in a vampire's time, but long enough.
However, my sadness quickly replaced with a growing sense of anger. What on earth did he think he was doing here? And he had no right to look so placid, so impassive. Was he even aware of what he was doing? Was he out of his mind! You can't just waltz up to a house full of hostile vampires and still act like everything is okay, like everything is just fine. He had no right whatsoever to be so collected and undisturbed.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded.
The boy didn't smile, didn't say hello. Well, the again, neither did I. "I need to talk to you, please." He said easily, undaunted by the vampire staring him down, and with unexpected politeness.
Zeke was the boy that I had been thinking about last night, right before I had run into that monster, Jacob. But I could relate to Bella. Because my boyfriend until very recently, was a werewolf, too.
"What are you doing here?" I hissed through clenched teeth, glaring at him with all the hatred I could muster. Which was quite a bit, as of right now.
"I wanted to talk to you." He replied coolly, his eyes switching to Edward and then back to me. "Alone, if you don't mind."
My answer was very prompt, as I could see Rosalie and Emmett peering out of the garage, clearly alarmed by the smell. "I don't think that it possible, Zechariah." I said, referring to his real name stiffly. He didn't look away when Emmett and Rosalie took less than half second to position themselves behind Edward, who had Bella in his arms.
He frowned, the first look of unhappiness to cross his fine features. "If I may ask," He said, quietly confused, "Why not?"
I ground my teeth together. "Get out of here, Zeke."
"Why?" He sounded utterly bewildered.
"If I talk to you," I hissed, "Will you leave them alone?" I gestured to the grouping Cullens, and noticed that Esme had appeared there by most of her family, too, silently.
"Talk to me alone?" He asked, looking over at them again.
"You know him?" Growled Emmett.
I nodded and said acidly, "Unfortunately."
Zeke's jaw hardened, but he showed no other sign of hearing the insult. I realized I sounded like a complete jerk, but he—there was no—oh, never mind.
"Better get used to it." I muttered as I finally moved off the porch steps. I stayed well away from him, though he looked unfazed by my apparent rudeness.
Zeke spoke quietly to the Cullens, though he was reserved and respectful, "It was nice to meet you all," before turning his back on them and sauntered over to the edge of the woods. I took a deep breath, and reluctantly followed. When Zeke saw that I was coming, he continued on into the trees.
Just before I stepped outside of the small clearing in which the house was situated. I looked back at the Cullens, and was surprised at how very different their expressions were. Esme looked on edge, like a mother watching her daughter getting ready to do something dangerous. That struck an odd chord inside of me. It was like she almost….well, like I was a part of her family, though we had only met the night before. I hadn't known she could be so loving, so caring, to someone she had known for a few short hours.
Emmett was holding the beautiful girl's, Rosalie's, hand. The woman looked slightly interested, but not enough to ask questions. The burly Emmett looked almost eager—probably for a fight, so he could go after Zeke. As much as I despised my ex, I didn't think he deserved to be torn to shreds. Well, not by anyone other than me. I smiled, in an attempt to seem calm.
Alice was holding Bella's hand, quietly reserved. Edward was holding the human girl around the waist, calculating, and watching me intently, probably examining my thoughts. I sighed—clearly, he didn't trust me. He probably thought I was going to run off and betray his family, which I couldn't blame him for thinking. I imagine my thoughts would belong along the same tracks.
Bella looked confused, her eyebrows drawn together. She was muttering quietly to Edward, no doubt trying to figure out what was going on. After a moment, Edward nodded and replied just as low.
Carlisle was nowhere to be seen, much to my slight surprise. He seemed so on top of things all the time, the one that his family looked to in moments of indecision. His absence made the Cullen family look incomplete.
Sighing and giving the vampires one last smile, I turned back around and stepped inside the fringe of trees. Giving a half second to let my eyes get used to the darkness, I spotted a figure lounging against a tree trunk not too far away. It was just out of earshot for the vampires, I noted, making my teeth grind together. My anger made reappearance, and I strode forward purposefully.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I exploded, my voice rising. "You have got some nerve to come all the way from France just to find me. And you know what?" I said, throwing my hands in the air. "I don't want you here! I'm not going back with you! I like these people, Zeke!" I said, waving one hand in the direction of the Cullen's house. "Why can't you just leave me alone? I don't love you anymore and I—WHAT?" His eyebrows had been steadily and steadily climbing up his forehead and his eyes had gotten that amused sparkle that I used to like so much. But right now, it was goddamn annoying.
Zeke took a deep breath, one of anticipation. He leaned forward some, so that his face was closer to me. I had already been standing quite a few feet away from him, but I backed even farther away instinctively, distrusting the werewolf, even though he was Zeke. The man spoke quietly, bemused, and slightly mocking. "I didn't come because I wanted you back." He said, a smile curving the corners of your lips.
I stood, shocked, and let his words sink in. He wasn't here because he wanted me back? Then why? And, good lord girl, stop blushing. I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks in embarrassment.
His smile grew into a satisfied one and he leaned back again, crossing his ankles across one another. I absolutely detested that smile. "What?" I asked, bluntly.
Zeke's smile grew, but he didn't answer. He was immensely proud of himself.
I took ten seconds before saying, with all the calm I could muster, "Then what do you want?"
Zeke took a long time in answering. He studied me, looking me up and down in the searching way he had. I couldn't tell what was going on behind his dark eyes. The memory of him looking at me in much the same way not but a few years ago did nothing to help get rid of the ridiculous blush that was still burning on my cheeks.
"Well." He finally started, sighing while he talked. "I wanted to see what you knew about the Volturi." He said it so calmly, so easily, but his words nevertheless surprised me.
Confused, I asked, "The Volturi?" He nodded solemnly, dead serious. "Why?" I asked warily, scrutinizing him.
The silence that ensued was very complete. We just looked at each other, as I wondered why in the world he would want to know anything about the Volturi. He was looking at me intently, his relaxed look trained right on my face. I stared back at him, unable to look away from his mesmerizing eyes.
At last, Zeke said quietly, "I can't tell you."
I openly gaped at him. He couldn't tell me? He came all this way from France, where he and his 'brothers' were situated, to come and ask me about the Volturi, but he couldn't tell me why. It was just like him. Exactly the sort of thing he would do.
I crossed my arms defiantly. Anticipating what was coming, Zeke sighed again. "I'm not telling you," I said, immediately on the defensive, "until you tell me why you want to know." Trying for a small smile, I said, "Fair exchange."
Zeke shook his head. "Why?" I asked, but he ignored me.
"Then we have no business talking to each other, Isabeau." He said, shrugging away from the tree. He was taller, too, than when I last saw him. I had to crane my neck to see his face.
"But…" I said, searching for something that would sway him to tell me. I didn't know why, but I felt I had to know, or something could go horribly wrong. I just had a bad feeling. Zeke kept quite a few secrets, but none that he wouldn't tell me after I persuaded him to do so. That he wasn't telling me now gave me a feeling of foreboding, of unease.
Without even glancing at me, Zeke turned on his heel and sauntered farther into the forest, away from the Cullen's house. My eyes, much to my embarrassment, welled up with tears. I tried very, very hard to keep the burning in my eyes away, but it wouldn't go.
My breath caught when he stopped, though, ten feet away. He took a deep breath—I could see his shoulders rise and slump again. He just stood there for a few long seconds and then murmured my name. "Isabeau?" He said, just above a whisper. He wasn't looking at me. He was studying the forest in front of him, determined not to turn.
"Yes, Zeke?" I tried to raise my voice, tried to make it so that I was talking normally, but it came out as a warbled whisper.
His voice was steady, very unlike mine, though still low. "I couldn't leave alone."
My throat constricted, and I tried to breathe evenly. My words came as a gasp. "You-you brought them?"
He nodded. I couldn't see his face, or his expression. All I could see was his back, holding him stiffly. He liked like some sort of a statue, as a sudden sway of wind found its way through the trees. His hair wavered, and his jeans flapped around his legs, but still he didn't turn.
I ignored the hair flying around my head, and the multi-colored autumn leaves being swept through the branches by the wind. The trees were growing threadbare, and frail. They had a fragile look about them, like if any one of them were struck once more, they would break, collapsing to the ground.
My thoughts moving slowly, I realized that this was how I felt. Barren, fragile…alone.
"Zeke." I whispered. I wasn't paying attention to how desperate for someone I felt. I tried to continue, but I couldn't speak around the ball in my throat. It was cutting off my words, my air, and even Zeke.
The werewolf didn't answer or respond. He just stood as still as a statue, unmoving, uncaring.
A flicker of movement in the spaces between the trees made me tear my eyes away and jerk my head to see. There, in the shadows, I could see outlines moving, their invisible eyes on Zeke and me. They moved slowly, maneuvering between the trees. I backed up a step, my breath coming faster.
No. Zeke wouldn't—he couldn't have—oh, no.
Zeke's brothers—tall, muscular men appearing everywhere. Only there were more, so much more than the ones in France. The size of the pack had almost tripled. Each face leered out at me, unsmiling, unsympathetic.
"They won't hurt you, or your friends." Zeke said quietly. He turned slowly, his face unreadable. He didn't show a spark of pity at the tears now streaming down my face. "Just stay out of their way, okay?" He said.
I shook my head, backing away. "No, Zeke." I said, my voice unable to rise above a whisper. "No."
Without one more word, without another glance at the pack, I tore away from Zeke and his brothers. I crashed through the trees, my vision blurred by the tears.
I couldn't do this—I had just lost Daas, and now Zeke had shown up the day after with nearly twenty wolves. This couldn't be happening.
It just couldn't.
A/N:
Disclaimer: If I owned the Twilight Series, why on earth would I be writing FAN-fiction? Only in my wildest dreams.
Okay, so I am offering my beta services. I would preferably like to beta Twilight stories, but other things will be considered.
And…I don't have much else to say other than the regular, routine, hear-it-every-time REVIEW!