Chapter 3: Negotiator
When Bella's hand is finally splinter-free, Emily brings me a bowl of warm water and some antiseptic cream to wash out the wound, along with a couple of bandages from their first-aid kit; despite the tentative trust Sam feels towards me, he takes the items from his fiancée and passes them to me himself. Bella refuses the offer of painkillers, and I am glad that there were no rusty nails in the wood, because she won't need a tetanus shot. Once the wound is thoroughly clean, I bandage her hand carefully, wrapping the soft fabric around her hand and wrist in a way I hope will support her wrist without pinching the wounds when she moves.
"What's that?" she asks sharply. Her eyes are fixed on the white blemishes on my forearm.
I sigh. "I didn't think you'd be able to see that."
"Well, I can." She leans closer. "Are those teeth?" she shrieks. Then she glares at Jacob. "You bit him?"
"He broke the treaty," Jacob retorts, unrepentant.
She glares at him for another moment, then watches as I secure the end of the bandage beneath the section supporting the back of her wrist. The moment I am done, she grabs my arm with her good hand and pulls it closer, peering down at the jagged scar. She traces her finger along the line, looking a little comforted by its smoothness.
"Does it still hurt?"
Jacob snorts; we both ignore him.
"I heal even faster than the wolves."
She purses her lips—I wonder if she thinks I'm avoiding the question—and then searches my eyes for something. After a few seconds, she smiles, seemingly satisfied with what she sees there. "You're not any hungrier," she says happily.
"No," I agree; she doesn't need to know that I was so well fed to begin with to make sure I'll be as strong as possible when I catch up with Victoria. Or that I starved myself for weeks after I left her—because it was easier to stay away when I was afraid that my self-control might snap.
She stares down at her hand; the bandage is already turning pink in a few places, marking the largest wounds. "I do feel bad about the waste, though," she muses. Then she looks up at me, her brown eyes so full of love.
I stare at her, trying to comprehend what she is saying. The others in the room have drawn the same startling conclusion, so I know it isn't just my clouded judgment making me think she means to let me lick her wounds.
"I appreciate the offer," I murmur, touched to the core by her interminable generosity.
Her brow crinkles ever so slightly. "But?" she prompts.
"I'm not going to weaken you, Bella."
She shrugs, but doesn't argue.
"How's the bandage?" I ask, trying to take care of my patient. "Not too tight?"
"Nope, it's great. Just as good as Carlisle's," she teases.
I can't help but smile; only Bella could joke about such things. "It's a technique I learned from him."
She smiles back, then stands up. When she points at the spot she has just vacated, I take the hint and sit, and then she sits sideways in my lap—her body facing in the council's general direction, her back toward Jacob—and drapes an arm around my neck. My arms wrap themselves around her without conscious thought.
"Much better," she murmurs, and I can't help but agree.
"You're sitting on a rock," Jacob remarks harshly—though there are worse words in his head (I am relieved he avoided corpse).
"My rock," Bella replies, still gazing into my eyes, not the least bit self-conscious. She rests her bandaged hand against my neck, no doubt to take advantage of my icy skin.
I want to kiss her, and I am sure she feels the same way, but after a moment, she turns her head to face the council.
"Edward will make sure I don't hurt anyone," she tells them. "You know Carlisle works in the hospital, saving countless lives, and you've just seen proof of Edward's self-control. They will teach me how to control the thirst—even if Edward and I have to live in Antarctica for a year or two and eat penguins."
"There are people in Antarctica, too," I tease, amused by Bella's zany plan.
"Then we'll find an uninhabited island somewhere down there. Sea lions can't be that different to mountain lions."
"I would say they're quite different," I reply, imagining having to rip through the thick layer of blubber to reach a decent vein.
"Saltier?"
"And fattier."
She hums indifferently. "I don't want to kill whales, though. Or dolphins."
I am irritated that I've let her draw me into a discussion about her first meal as a newborn, but before I can change the subject, her eyes light up.
"We could buy a deer farm!" she exclaims. "Then the meat wouldn't have to go to waste."
Her enthusiasm inspires me as much as the idea intrigues the others. I have no doubt Bella will revolutionize our lives even more than she has already—and then I realize I am thinking of her as a vampire. Am I really giving in already?
"Would the meat be safe for human consumption?" Billy asks, thinking of our potent venom infecting the entire corpse.
"We'll make sure it is," Bella says, not the least bit concerned. "Even if we have to drain out the blood some other way."
I can't help but grimace at that. Animal blood is bad enough without drinking dead blood—even a hungry vampire would think twice before drinking from a human corpse more than ten minutes old. Perhaps removing the blood from the corpse immediately would maintain enough of its integrity, but it would then have to be chilled. Yuck.
"Dracula didn't mind drinking out of a cup," she teases, picking up on the reason for my distaste.
I roll my eyes. "Dracula also had fangs and could fly," I reply, avoiding mention of his legendary ability to turn into various creatures lest it irritate the wolves.
"So blood banks are safe from vampires?"
"Totally."
She laughs at that, then smiles at Billy. "Ingesting the venom shouldn't harm anyone. I've shared food with Edward."
No one in the room thinks sharing food remotely compares to kissing me, though Emily and Sam are curious that I have eaten food.
"For Charlie's sake," I explain; they don't need to know about Bella's dare—though Bella's smirk suggests that's what she's thinking of, too.
"Animals fear vampires," Quil Ateara points out, and I am surprised he has decided to engage in a conversation based on Bella's intent to become the thing he hates most in the world. "How would you farm them?"
"We could hire people to take care of the live animals," she answers immediately, as though she has it all planned out already.
He isn't convinced that it would work—he believes that, in time, we will grow to forget the reasons for our current restraint. Forever is a long time to promise to curb our natural appetites.
"Carlisle is over three hundred years old," I tell him, "and we have friends in the north who share our lifestyle who are over one thousand years old." I leave out the detail that they have not shared our lifestyle for all of those years. "We will not change our minds. We will not become murderers."
They all consider my words in silence for some time—Bella obviously didn't tell them our full history, for they had no idea Carlisle was so ancient—but gradually, their thoughts settle into a surprisingly accepting frame of mind. Only Jacob and Quil Ateara are still adamant in their distrust and dislike.
Jacob sees the tension leaving their faces and feels betrayed. "You can't seriously be considering granting him permission to kill her!" he cries.
"We are considering Bella's right to choose," Billy replies.
Sam nods; he has already decided. From the others' thoughts, I know it doesn't take a mind-reader to see that he is, impossibly, siding with Bella. Jacob's arms begin to shake. Sam places a hand on his arm, but Jacob shakes it off.
"The bloodsucker might be good at pretending, but it doesn't change what he is."
"He took no action to defend himself," Sam reminds him, and I hear in his thoughts that vampire venom is poisonous to the wolves—a healthy wolf like Jacob could probably survive a single bite, but it would be deadly in combination with other wounds. The three in wolf form are thinking the same thing, though their thoughts are less focused, so through them I learn pieces of the tragic legend that this knowledge is preserved in.
Jacob rejects the argument, but Billy speaks up before he can gather his thoughts into words.
"The treaty is an important part of our history," he says solemnly, "and we take pride in it. We are not savages. We believe in judging a man by his actions, not by the forces beyond his control."
I smile, appreciating the sentiment. Though Billy has never completely trusted us—as he is right not to—he had renewed the treaty for those very reasons. And then I hear in his thoughts that Bella's suffering had made him wish he had refused us, and I add him to the list of people affected by my doomed efforts.
"The treaty is important to us, too," I say. "Forks is our home, and we couldn't settle there without your blessing. I am truly sorry for all the suffering I have caused you and your people."
"Your gracious words don't match your decision to enter our land," Harry points out.
"Bella is more important to me than anything," I say. "I would do anything for her."
"You'd kill for her?" Billy asks—and he is picturing me killing people for Bella to drink their blood without becoming a murderer herself.
I can't help but laugh, though I try to rein in my amusement. "I don't think she'd see it that way."
"See what?" Bella asks.
"If I killed people so you could drink their blood."
Her eyes widen. "No, that's still murder," she murmurs.
"Bella cannot say how she will feel after the change," Billy points out, ignoring her, "and you cannot truthfully promise you would not cater to her will in that way."
"No," I agree, unable to argue otherwise.
"You didn't hurt those stupid drunks in Port Angeles," Bella blurts.
I wince at her innocent remark—she has no idea the evil she faced that night; but of course my reaction sets everyone on edge.
"What drunks?" Billy asks.
"I didn't hurt them," I insist, but they don't believe me. I am at a loss to know how I can convince them without rousing Bella's suspicions.
"I got lost in Port Angeles," Bella explains, "and it got dark really fast, and this group of guys cornered me and… they were drunk and not thinking straight—" none of her audience is deceived by her attempts to downplay the attack—"but then Edward found me. So nothing happened. We went to dinner, and they… sobered up." We all hear the abrupt doubt in her voice, and I wonder if she is remembering my ferociousness even after dinner.
"Is that all that happened, Edward?" Billy asks me pointedly.
"Yes—although I made sure human justice caught up with them," I reply, unable to leave them thinking I'd let anyone get away with threatening Bella, but hoping I can still keep it general.
Bella shakes her head. "How? They didn't do anything."
"One of them was wanted by police," I admit, trying to be casual about it. "I told Carlisle where he was, and he sedated him and left him at the nearest police station," I say, stretching the truth a little in the hope of distracting her—and the others—from wondering what he was wanted for.
"You never said," she mumbles.
"It wasn't important," I reply, trying to keep it light.
She doesn't fall for it. "What had he done?" she asks, her quick eyes boring into mine.
I try to keep my face blank, but no one mistakes my intense reluctance to answer for indifference, and I struggle to find an alternative answer while under such scrutiny from Bella.
"Murder," I admit heavily, leaving out the rape. "They extradited him to Texas."
Her eyes widen. "You heard it in his thoughts?" she murmurs, and I can hear the beginnings of shock in her voice.
I nod curtly, hoping she'll leave it at that. Of course, she doesn't.
"Was he thinking about… killing again?"
I close my eyes, trying to hide the fury the memory of his thoughts inspires in me. "Please don't ask me that," I murmur, even though I know it sounds bad, because admitting the truth of what he'd planned to do to her is even worse.
She doesn't respond. I open my eyes, unable to deny myself the ability to study her careful expression for myself. She stares at me for a moment, then strokes my cheek with her uninjured hand. "That's three times you've saved my life," she reminds me. "It's my turn to—"
"There aren't any turns," I say, interrupting. "I acted for your sake, not for any other purpose."
Jacob snorts at that; he thinks I used her need for such careful guarding to my advantage—that I tricked her into loving me. Suddenly, I find myself remembering his role in Bella identifying my secret. He broke the treaty first. I wonder if his tribe knows that.
"Edward forgave you when you broke the treaty," Bella says pointedly, and I can't help but smile at the alignment of our thoughts.
Jacob's lip curls; he hates that he is the one who told her what I am. "I didn't break anything. He wanted you to know."
I am about to point out that if I'd wanted her to know, I would've told her myself, when he thinks back to that innocent day on the beach, when life had been simple. He'd been telling Bella about his hobby project of building a car for himself when one of the girls—I recognize Lauren at once—had mentioned my family. Bella had reacted strangely to Sam's pronouncement—The Cullens don't come here—but he hadn't thought much of it, even when she asked about it later. He had enjoyed her intense reaction to a simple story that meant almost nothing to him. Even her surprisingly serious questions didn't raise much suspicion.
I watch his memory greedily, for the first time seeing Bella's efforts at flirting—and her reaction to the news that not only am I a vampire, but I last lived in the area at the time of Jacob's great-grandfather. "I'll take it to the grave."
So she had feared that I might kill her from the beginning, and yet she had willingly put herself in my power without knowing my intentions. She had given over her life to me as completely as I had given mine to her. Evidently, I have belittled her feelings to an extent far beyond my wildest estimation.
And then Jacob suddenly remembers I am privy to his thoughts. His mind closes down so quickly that I flinch—one moment, he is picturing Bella smiling, her eyes bright, and the next, he pictures her frozen in the middle of an essay on The Taming of the Shrew, struggling to articulate how Petruchio's extreme measures saved Katherina from a lonely, bitter life.
"To think I ever felt sorry for you," I snap before I can control myself.
"Sorry for me?" he retorts, shaking again—except this time, he can't calm himself. He is too angry at the thought of me—a bloodsucking corpse—feeling sorry for him. He hates me for stealing Bella's love, and for presenting such a reasonable, genuine façade that I have not only convinced his father and the others that I am not evil, but have also helped Bella persuade them that she isn't insane to seek death in the form of vampire venom.
Sam is about to drag him outside when he takes off, realizing on his own that he needs to leave before he hurts someone. The wolf explodes out of him before he reaches the front door, taking the door and part of the wall with him; Bella and the others jump at the noise. Their distress makes me feel particularly guilty that he has demolished part of the house because I caused him to lose his temper.
He throws all his strength into his legs, running full tilt. He considers running to Canada—maybe then I won't be able to hear his thoughts so clearly—except he knows as long as he remains a wolf, his thoughts are tied to the wolves by my side. He wants to change back, but he has no clothes and his temper is too high.
Jared growls—he is trying to tell Jacob not to go so far, but Jacob isn't listening—and Sam is worried, too. He wants to stay for the rest of my trial—he is a member of the council, after all—but he can't let Jacob go off on his own.
"Alice sees Victoria trying again tonight," I say, hoping that might encourage Jacob to change his mind and stay in the Reservation. It does, partially; he stops planning to run all night and starts looking for a place to hole up till nightfall.
Sam eyes me with interest, two thoughts strongest—that I am a useful spokesperson for the wolves, and that I can hear the redhead's thoughts. It may be beyond their control to fight alongside me, but he imagines me somehow keeping them updated on Victoria's plans, to help them intercept her; I could communicate with him via an earpiece.
"Even if that would work, I'd have to be close to hear her thoughts," I say. "And unless you can all trust me not to attack you, we'll end up getting in each other's way and she might—" she might get past us. I can't even say it.
Sam shares my horror; although Bella is her target, she could easily kill Emily and any number of his tribespeople in order to get to her—and he cares for Bella, too.
"She keeps slipping through our lines," Sam says, for the benefit of his pack. "We need you to tell us what she's doing—and if she doesn't know we're working together, we might be able to corner her that much faster."
"I'm not sure pretending not to get along is a good idea," I say. "But otherwise, I agree." I wish I could call my brothers to assist, but I know the wolves can't tolerate that.
"No," Bella says; I'm surprised she hasn't spoken up earlier. "If Jacob can't keep his temper here, how will he manage when Victoria—?" She breaks off. "It's too dangerous—for all of you!"
"Victoria won't be tainting perfectly good air by breathing in and out for much longer. I won't let her get away with terrorizing you—or her part in James's—"
"You promised you'd never leave me again," she reminds me sharply. "You can't go after her without leaving."
"I won't be leaving—she's here." We both shudder at the shocking truth of that. To distract her, I tap my head. "I have the advantage."
"She's older—and stronger."
"So you'd rather I leave the wolves to fight her on their own?"
She flinches. "Of course not! I don't want anyone risking their lives for me—not when I could—"
"Absolutely not."
She looks triumphant. "You can't stand the idea either."
I sigh. "She is skilled—more than a match for any newborn." I try not to picture Bella fighting her, but my mind unhelpfully inserts her into the memories I picked up from the wolves. I wince.
The humans in the room ask what I mean by "newborn", so I give them a brief explanation. Even though I leave out the greater influence of their instincts, they don't like what they hear.
"From the way Victoria is acting," I say, getting back on topic, "she isn't prepared to die to avenge her mate, but she seems very determined—she'll keep running away until she finds a way in."
"If you fight with us," Sam says, "she won't get away."
I'm still not sure they won't end up turning on me—none of the other wolves likes the idea of entrusting their lives to me; even Jared, Sam's second-in-command, is wary of me, despite his alpha's confidence. "If she sees me, and she does escape, we might lose her."
"You can hear what she's thinking—how can we lose her?"
"My range isn't infinite. I will be able to pinpoint her mind from perhaps two miles away, but I won't be able to hear exactly what she's thinking beyond five or six hundred yards."
They are all interested—and more than a little unnerved—to hear the extent of my ability, and I'm glad I have undersold it a little; they don't need to know that the more familiar I am with a person's 'voice', the greater the distance over which I can hear their thoughts.
"Then we won't let her get that far away," Sam replies. His growing certainty feels strangely nice—I like the opinion he is forming of me. I hope I can live up to it.
And then Billy's thoughts distract me. He is as confident as Sam that my assistance will be the extra the wolves need to catch her.
"If you will fight with the pack to rid us of the redheaded demon," he says, "we will forgive your trespass today."
His fellow (human) councilmembers are somewhat peeved by the offer, but they see the sense in it, so they don't argue. Though they aren't as inclined to acknowledge my humanity, they both see the difference between me and the vampires they despise.
There is something they seem to be overlooking, though. "If she goes on Quileute land—"
"Until the redhead is destroyed," Billy interrupts me, "you have permission to move freely through our lands."
I am amazed, not to mention honored. Although he still sees me as a danger to their people, he trusts me enough to recognize that the threat posed by Victoria is hundreds of times greater. If only the other half of the council (and the majority of the wolf pack) agreed with him; but the council is not my concern—beyond doing my best to show them I will honor my word—and I believe Sam can bring the wolves around, so I nod. "I will hunt with the wolf pack until Victoria is ash."
"No," Bella mumbles.
I touch her cheek. "She's no match for me. I won't let her hurt you or anyone else." Embry and Jared's reaction to that statement amuses me, so I say, "I'm counting the pack in that, too."
We don't need your protection, Paul retorts.
"I mean no offense," I tell him. "You have protected your lands from a very determined vampire, but she has been taking advantage of that fact—with my help, you won't have to risk your lives to stop her."
Sam nods. "With your help, running won't save her."
I smile, sharing his anticipation of victory. Almost as one (Jacob being the notable exception), the wolves picture ripping Victoria to pieces with intense satisfaction, and I completely agree. When Jacob pictures tossing me on the bonfire meant for Victoria, I am surprised by Jared and Embry's disapproval, and even Paul doesn't think it would be right to turn on me if I honor our bargain and the treaty. Then, trying to be stealthy about it, Jared quietly points out that it would be difficult to catch me by surprise.
"Very difficult," I agree, enjoying the chance to be open about my mind-reading ability with people who aren't my family, and who don't think I'm a freak (at least, not for that reason). But the wolves don't appreciate my joke. "I'm sorry," I say. "It's novel for me not to have to hide my ability to read minds—I didn't mean to make you uneasy."
Even though we were thinking about turning on you?, Paul asks.
I shrug. "If you can control yourselves until Victoria is in pieces, I promise not to overstay my welcome. And even if you do turn on me, I won't retaliate."
Bella stiffens, and I regret my openness, but for now, I have to focus on the wolves. Jacob absolutely doesn't trust me, while Sam and the others are more inclined to believe in my tolerance. After all, I let Jacob rip off my arm without complaint.
"I can take down Victoria myself," I tell them, "and I would gladly do it, but if I have to let her go when she crosses onto Quileute lands, she will have the advantage."
Sam nods. "It's pointless forcing you to abide by the treaty while the redhead runs where she likes."
The wolves don't appreciate his bluntness—they have at least managed to keep her away from La Push and from Forks—but they understand his point, and this time, they grudgingly accept that I must be given permission to enter their lands.
To remind them of something positive—the potential for a unique and highly successful partnership—I say, "If we work together tonight, we'll catch her tonight."
They all like the sound of that, even Jacob. Tonight can't come soon enough.
"Alice may be able to predict when she'll get here, but that's likely to be as much as she can help."
"Why?" Sam asks, remembering Alice's frantic phone call earlier.
"I think she is unable to predict the outcomes of your decisions—you are supernatural beings she has no experience with and little understanding of."
Even though it leaves us blind tonight, they like the sound of that. It reminds me of Bella's delight at being immune to my gift, despite the difficulties it has caused. And then I wonder if I could've left her if I'd been able to hear her pain. I flinch internally—no, I couldn't have lied to her if I'd been able to hear her heart break.
Sam gestures for me to step out of the box. "You're not on trial anymore," he says, "and we need to plan."
No one else (besides Jacob) objects—their thoughts confirm their unease, but they are no longer afraid of me—so I lift Bella in my arms before she can stand up (much to her disgust), and step out of the box, jumping just enough to clear the side.
While Sam directs Embry and Jared to remove the crate, I set Bella on her feet, pleased that she holds my arms around her rather than freeing herself. Sam shifts an armchair into the middle of the room for me to sit in, angling it to face in between the council and Emily and Sue, and Bella pushes me into it before sitting in my lap. She rests back against my chest, but doesn't fully relax; her focus is still on the council.
But as I wrap my arms around her waist, she glances down at her hand; the bandage is tinged pink across the entire heel of her hand. I will have to change it soon. "You still okay?" she asks me, twisting her neck to look back at me.
I smile. "I am. You?"
She smiles back. "Peachy."
I can't help but laugh; Emily smiles, and Billy is more amused than concerned, but the others don't like my seemingly cavalier attitude. Their fears return—all it would take is for me to lose focus for a single second, and I could slaughter them all.
"I am a mind-reader," I remind them, directly myself to Quil Ateara in particular. "You are completely safe from me. I am in full control of my thirst."
Bella giggles, though I doubt she has any idea of the things some members of our audience are imagining. If I were any less resolved, they would have severely tested my self-control—and she would likely have suffered for it.
Quil and the others whose thoughts had strayed to picturing me committing their murders in various bloody ways hastily try to sanitize their thoughts, embarrassment helping them refocus.
Billy breaks the silence quickly, advancing the discussion. "We will invite Charlie and Bella to eat here with us tonight, while the pack and Edward seek the redhead."
Sam and I nod in agreement, and then I suggest a further element to this plan.
"I'll drive Bella's truck back to Forks—if Victoria does manage to get that far, she might be fooled for a moment or two."
Bella looks ready to argue, but then she sighs. "Don't hurt my truck."
"I won't," I promise, forgoing any teasing remarks—because that beast of a machine had led me to Bella.
The others are amused (or exasperated) by Bella's concern for her truck when she isn't remotely afraid for herself, and I'm surprised they don't think she's crazy for having such backwards instincts.
"But before you do that," Bella says ominously, "we're calling Alice."