Jasper offers to come to stay for a while, but now that he's talked me back onto solid ground I assure him that I don't need him to. The late summer sun has sunk low in the sky. It's unreasonably quiet, any wildlife now more than aware a predator is lurking in their midst. Talking to Jasper feels like a homecoming. He stitches my confidence back together with tales of his past, suggestions for my future. He doesn't promise me it won't happen again.

"Alice is really glad you called, you know. It's been a long time."

I pick at the grass, thinking about my fiery, protective sister. I can imagine how tough it has been for her to abide by my wishes and stay away.

"I know. It's been hard for me too, but..."

"But sometimes you have to sort things out for yourself," he finishes. "I understand that, Bella. We all do."

I promise him that I won't leave it so long before I call again, and then I head home, surprised at the distance I managed to cover in my blind panic. I settle into a scalding hot bath, scrubbing myself clean. On the outside, at least. While I'm soaking I decide it is definitely time to man up, and I dress and call Julian to apologize.

"You must think I'm crazy."

"Not at all, Isobel. I'm really sorry I rushed you. I should have known, what with..." he trails off, realizing suddenly that I have never told him my story. Wise little Alice. It really is the perfect cover.

"Yeah," I murmur quietly, not having to try very hard to sound broken. "It's just too soon for me, Julian. I'm sorry."

I throw myself back into my work. Scott still comes to the library every afternoon, and he chats away to me about books and baseball and dragons, but when closing time rolls around he swings his bright yellow backpack onto his back and bounds down the steps to Julian's car.

Summer has started to fade, and I feel able to uncoil a little. Less sunny hours in a day frees me up to be less of a recluse. I plan a week's worth of events for the library for Halloween, setting up displays of books for the kids about ghouls, and werewolves, and yes, even vampires. I'm halfway up a ladder hanging paper cut-outs of jack-o'-lanterns, when Casey starts squealing my name from the back room.

"I totally did not mean to open your personal mail," she says in an excited rush. "I was just opening Mrs Ainsley's pile, and there it was. It had a printed label and I assumed it was, you know, a book or whatever. But look!"

The padded envelope she thrusts at me contains a flat black velvet jewellery case.

"Who is it from? Is it from Mr Taylor? I thought you guys were totally over? Is he trying to win you back? He doesn't really seem like the jewellery type. I mean, he's a science nerd..."

I run my fingers over the soft velvet surface. Casey is just about bursting out of her skin.

"GOD! Isobel, OPEN IT!"

I exhale and quickly prise the case open, like pulling off a band-aid. Inside lies a chunky silver link bracelet, with a single charm hanging from it in the shape of a droplet. Stone, or glass, it's hard to tell. The color is a rich, deep, coppery red.

Casey lets out a low whistle. "Wow. That's beautiful...and kind of...creepy? Is that meant to be a drop of blood? That's pretty emo."

I snap the case closed, and stuff it quickly back into the envelope.

"I...ah...I think it's from my crazy great aunt. She died a few weeks back, it must be from the estate. Do you want to help me stick up some ghost posters?"

Casey is easily distracted.

"Oh. My. God. You should absolutely see the costumes Matt and I are wearing this Friday. They are unreal..."

On Saturday morning, I take the bracelet to the jeweller in Merrimack. Fred Wilbert is in his eighties, with thinning hair plastered over the bald spot on the top of his head. His bow-tie is a little lopsided, and his suspenders have seen better days. He peers at the charm through his loupe for a long time.

"I couldn't be sure without sending it away, Miss..."

"Whitlock."

"Miss Whitlock. But I think this might be haematinum. If I'm right, this bracelet is priceless."

"Haemanti...?"

"Haematinum. Blood glass. It was used by the Romans in antiquity, for dishware, mosaics. Pliny the Elder writes about it. Can I ask where you obtained it?"

"It was a bequest. I don't know the history."

He squints up at me with a skeptical look on his face. Do I look like a jewel thief?

"Would you like me to send it for appraising?"

I shake my head slowly, taking the bracelet back from his gnarled hands.

"Well, if I were you, young lady, I wouldn't wear that until you've had it appraised and insured. I suspect it is worth a very large amount of money."

I thank him, and let myself out of the store. On the street, I take the bracelet from its case and fasten it around my wrist. The glass is lush, vibrant against my impossibly pale skin.

My phone rings and I answer without looking at it.

"Isobel? I...I'm so sorry to call like this. I just..." Julian sounds frantic.

"What is it? Is it Scott?"

"He was...God, I don't know. He was at the park with his friends, and I guess someone dared him to climb this giant tree and he fell."

"Where are you? I'll come right away," I assure him, already jogging back to my car.

The Medical Center is small and modern. The pale green walls and squeaky floors thankfully smell antiseptic and the air seems drenched in harsh chemicals. I worried all the way here that my thirst would be no match for open wounds.

Scott's room is on the second floor, and he is lying with his leg up in a sling, the large cast dwarfing his tiny frame. He looks pretty bad, every freckle standing out in sharp relief on his pale skin, but his face lights up when he sees me.

"I brought you cookies," I smile, waggling the cellophane bag back and forth. "I figure you'll get even skinnier lying here in this bed. We better feed you up." Scott reaches for the bag immediately, but I twitch it away, producing a brightly-colored book from behind my back, "And better still...I have a brand new Dan Gutman novel. Which do you want first?" I wave them at him teasingly, and he bites his lip and strains forward to snatch them both with a laugh.

Julian is sitting in an armchair under the window. He looks worried and exhausted, dark circles under his eyes. I incline my head to the door, and he pulls himself up wearily and follows me out.

"Look, I know you said... I just... I didn't know who to call. He's going to need surgery. It's a really bad break."

I reach a hand out instinctively and place it on his arm. "He'll be okay, Julian. He's young, strong. Kids are really resilient."

He lets out a long sigh. Even through his jacket, his pulse threads and stretches beneath my palm. This wasn't a good idea.

"You look really tired. Why don't you go grab a coffee, and I'll wait here."

Julian nods. As he trudges off down the hall, he calls back over his shoulder, "If the pediatrician turns up, can you tell him I'll just be a moment?"

Behind me a soft voice, more familiar than my reflection, says, "No need."

Julian has disappeared down the stairwell, and I turn reluctantly to face Edward. I think of another moment, a thousand lifetimes ago, when we faced each other in a clinic hallway just like this one. When I had no idea who or what he was. I asked him why he bothered saving me, and in a rare moment of vulnerability he confessed that he didn't know.

I take in his rumpled dark blue scrubs, the stethoscope he has looped around his neck, the bright gold color of his eyes - fresh from feeding. And then I fall headlong into the very presence of him, unable to move, unable to speak.

"Bella..." he whispers, my name from his lips an embrace, a prayer for relief. He lifts a hand to reach for me, but then it stutters and falls back uselessly to his side.

I don't know what to say. I'm utterly lost at this moment. Every compass point I've ever known has been erased. There's just Edward. There's only ever been Edward.

"Can we talk?" he says finally, his voice low, uncertain. "Would that be okay?"

I look through the doorway into Scott's room and Edward takes in my ambivalence.

"Not here, obviously. I mean later. Somewhere else."

"Dr Masen!" A small shudder passes over me at Julian's voice. "I was just going to see if I could call you."

Edward's eyes do not leave mine. Pleading with me to say something, anything. Pleading with my mind to give up its secrets.

I whisper too quietly and too quickly to be audible to Julian. "You can come over tonight, but I am not promising anything."

His exquisite features soften, and he closes his eyes briefly in gratitude. Then he snaps instantly back into his professional facade, reaching out to shake Julian's hand. "Mr Taylor. I've looked over the x-rays now. Why don't you come in and we can talk to Scott about what happens next?"

Julian pauses for a beat and I realize he's waiting on me. "Oh, no. You go ahead," I demur, waving him into the room. "I have some things to do. I'll come visit Scott tomorrow and bring him some more books." It's impossible to miss Julian's disappointment, or the spark of hope that lights in Edward's eyes.

It's too hard, too confusing. I turn my back on both of them.