Chapter 8: Rescuer
As the day begins to wane, I feel the growing pressure of an outstanding obligation. "I want to talk to Charlie," I tell Bella.
"Today?" she asks, cringing.
"I owe him an apology, too," I remind her; Jacob's unpleasant memories of Charlie's anguish flit through my mind.
"Why not give him a few days to get used to you being back?"
I shake my head. "I put him through a lot of pain, too."
She sighs, then nods. "After dinner," she insists.
We stop by the supermarket on the way back to her house, and she buys mincemeat, burger buns, and a dozen different vegetables and fillings. I unpack everything while Bella calls Charlie at the police station to say she'll cook at home tonight.
"Edward's eating with his family," she adds casually, "but he'll come over after that—he'd like to speak with you."
He gives a derisive snort, but agrees to be home by six.
When Bella starts cooking, I offer my usual assistance—chopping up vegetables. She gives me detailed instructions, and then we both set to work, though I pay more attention to the way she moves than to what either of us is doing. Despite the variety, the food seems utterly boring to me, but Bella seems cheerful as she prepares the mince.
She is still laying out the various burger fillings on the table when Charlie gets home. I give her a quick kiss on the cheek, then run upstairs. Her father stomps inside, then walks into the kitchen without stopping to hang up his gun.
"Hi, Dad," Bella says, as if everything is normal. "Did you have a good day?"
"My day was fine," he says pointedly. Then he adds, "Anyone else here?"
"Not yet," she replies cheerfully, ignoring his grumpiness.
He sighs, then steps back into the hallway and hangs up his gun. He seems to make up his mind as he walks back to the kitchen; I get a sense of heightened resolve. He is steeling himself for another battle. "Bella—"
"No, Dad," she says, cutting off what was obviously going to be a stern talking-to. "I forgive Edward—that's my choice. If you can't respect that, then that's your choice, but at least give him a chance. He wants to apologize."
Charlie snorts. "It'll take more than that."
Bella doesn't answer; when she next speaks, the subject is dinner related.
I wait upstairs until they start eating, and then run home to collect my car. When I pull into the driveway, I can hear Bella rinsing the plates in the sink. Charlie's mood hasn't improved, but I hadn't really expected it to—it wasn't hunger getting on his nerves.
Taking care to move at human speed, I get out of the car and make my way up to the front door. I knock twice, then smile as Bella practically runs to the door and yanks it open.
"Edward!" she exclaims happily.
Charlie is standing in the doorway of the living room, so I accept a light kiss and then step inside.
"Chief Swan," I say politely.
His lip curls; now that he's in his own house, he can be as rude as he likes. "I ought to ban you from the house," he growls.
He hates me, and I deserve every bit of it. For the first time, I am glad that I can't hear the detail of his thoughts, though his loathing comes through loud and clear. I still haven't figured out what to say to him, because no words can make right what I did to his daughter, but Bella's stubborn insistence that it is her choice to forgive me is not explanation enough. He deserves more than that.
"I wish I could take back the last six months," I tell him earnestly, trying to find the right amount of truth that I can share with him. "I have no excuse—I was… stupid and immature, and afraid of my own feelings as much as Bella's." I pause for dramatic effect, wishing I could know what I need to say to convince him of the story of teenage angst I am building. "I've never had a girlfriend before, and suddenly, it all got too serious and I couldn't handle it."
Charlie growls, and Bella twitches beside me, her hand tightening in mine, but I think my gambit is paying off, because his fury already feels less potent.
"When Carlisle was offered the job in Los Angeles, it gave me an excuse to run away. But I missed her every second—" this time, I have to pause to regain control of my emotions—"and the more I tried to… live around the emptiness inside me, the harder it got to do anything."
"Every second," Charlie quotes acerbically. "Took you long enough to let Bella know."
"I was afraid she wouldn't take me back," I admit shamefacedly.
He snorts, but that doesn't seem to convey sufficient disapproval, for he quickly adds, "She shouldn't."
"Dad," Bella says warningly.
He gestures toward me in exasperation. "That kid didn't just break your heart, he—!" Words fail him. My one consolation is that, despite his renewed discontentment, his hatred is still less than it was.
"I've learned my lesson," I promise him. "I'm hers as long as she wants me."
He eyes me intently at that, and I wonder if I've shown too much conviction after trying to build a case on youthful naivety.
"I forgive him, Dad," Bella says, repeating herself. She grins at me and then reaches up to touch my lips with her finger. "And he's going to spend the rest of his days making it up to me."
I manage not to grimace at her 'joke', but I can barely force my lips into a smile. "I love you," I say, avoiding the comment without, I hope, raising Charlie's suspicions.
"I know," she replies, deliberately teasing me, and the warmth in her eyes is like having my own personal sun. Her doubts are gone and mine are disappearing like the last wisps of mist beneath the sun's glorious rays.
"You can tell your mother," Charlie declares, wielding the words with a kind of manic bravado.
Bella cringes, then nods. "I'll call her tonight."
He opens his mouth to say something else—but is interrupted when the phone rings. He strides into the kitchen and I hear him pick up the handset. "Charlie Swan."
There is a sniffle, and then Sue Clearwater, her voice thick with emotion, says, "Charlie, it's Sue—Harry just had a heart attack."
Charlie hears in her voice that it was serious. Then she confirms it. "He didn't make it," she murmurs. (I recall the funeral Alice had foreseen, surprised that it has turned out to be Harry's; I'd assumed it would be someone from Forks, not someone Bella and I knew personally.)
He is silent for a moment as he tries to process the grief. "Can I—see him?" he asks, his voice rough.
Bella's hand clenches around mine and I look at her, realizing I've been so focused on the conversation and trying to read Charlie's emotions that I'd forgotten she wasn't privy to the same information.
"Harry Clearwater," I murmur, wondering if I should be forewarning her.
Through the phone, Sue replies, "Of course."
"I'll come right over," Charlie promises. He sets the handset down heavily onto the phone.
Bella pulls me along the hallway and into the kitchen. "What is it, Dad?" she murmurs, with the perfect amount of concern.
Charlie rubs a hand over his face, surreptitiously wiping away a few tears. "Harry Clearwater just passed away."
She lets go of my hand and goes to comfort her father. "I'm so sorry, Dad," she says as she wraps her arms around him.
He takes a shuddery breath, then puts one arm around her. After half a minute, he says, "I said I'd go there now…"
"Of course you should," Bella agrees. "I'll be fine here—unless you'd like me to come with you?"
"No, you don't have to do that." He gives me half a glare, but his grief far outweighs his anger at me—and perhaps he is glad that Bella won't be left here alone, for he doesn't try to impose a curfew on either of us.
After he leaves, Bella leads me upstairs. She is too sad to curl up with me on the bed, so I suggest an alternative pastime; knowing how much she enjoys me reading aloud to her, I offer my services on any book she'd like. That makes her smile. It takes her a minute to choose the book, but then she retrieves her copy of The Taming of the Shrew from her desk.
"You're Katherina," she teases, tossing the small volume at me.
I laugh, because there are some curious similarities, and then flick through the pages, reading the notes she's written on sticky notes throughout the copy—my memory of the play doesn't require prompting—before purposefully returning it to its spot on the desk. Bella chuckles to herself, then settles in for my one-man performance.
I am partway through the first scene of act three—where Bianca playfully chides Lucentio, disguised as Cambio, for his cunning suit—when, out of nowhere, I feel a sudden burst of fear, and then a desperate scream cuts through my mind: Leah!
I freeze. What did I just hear? Was that Sam's voice? I concentrate on my extra sense, but I can't hear anything else from him. When I refocus on Bella, she is staring at me with wide, worried eyes.
"The wolves need help," I say in a rush, and then, though I know she is afraid, I turn and throw myself out the window. The moment my feet touch the ground, I start running full tilt.
The split second reading I got from Sam is just enough to see that Harry Clearwater's daughter, Leah—a wolf as of two hours ago—has run far out of the Quileute reservation. And now she is chasing a vampire, on her own. If I don't get there in time, she is going to die.
I stretch out my senses, trying to pick up Sam's thoughts again, but I still can't hear anything. Maybe he is running, too, and his focus now is on the speed of his legs.
Taking a moment to ease off on my mental search, I pull out my phone and call Alice. She answers on the second ring; I don't like to speculate why it took her so long.
"Edward?"
"I need you to go to Bella's—tell her Leah Clearwater is a wolf now and she's chasing a vampire. The pack is too far away to help, but I might be able to get there before she—"
Leah!, a male voice I don't immediately recognize shouts in my head, and then Sam's mental voice is there, too, begging Leah to give up the hunt, while all of Leah's rage at losing her father (she refuses to accept the blame for his heart attack, though she is also the one thinking it), at becoming a wolf—the first female wolf in the tribe's long history—and at having her thoughts tied to the thoughts of her formerly beloved boyfriend is focused on one of the evil creatures that triggered her unwanted supernatural side.
"I've got to go," I say to Alice.
"Be careful," she says.
"I will," I promise, then hang up.
The other mind I can hear alongside Sam's and Leah's belongs to Seth, the boy I met last night. Except he's not a boy anymore. He is a wolf now, too, despite being only 14 years old. His pain at losing his father makes his fears for his sister all the greater. He is running as hard as Sam and I are, so he's bound to reach her—and the vampire—before I get there.
I am running as fast as I can, but I wish I could run faster—almost as much as I wish that, right now, they could hear me the way I can hear them.
And then I catch a break, of sorts. The vampire runs toward me instead of away; unfortunately, he is also running toward Seth.
But before Seth reaches them, the vampire stops running and goes on the attack. Leah has to jump over him to avoid his fist—but she's still new to this form and she stumbles on the landing, exposing her lack of skill. He lunges at her, driving his fist into her back leg and shattering part of her knee.
She howls in pain, and Seth and Sam howl with her—the vampire hears them and, for a moment, he hesitates. I hope he will run, but then Leah snaps at him and he makes up his mind. He punches her again, this time in the back, and she collapses to the ground with an almighty wail, her back legs limp.
Sam and Seth cry out with her, sharing her pain, as she begins to realize that she could actually die. Part of her doesn't care, but that part is almost entirely swallowed by fear.
After stomping on her front leg, the vampire grabs her head. She tries desperately to pull out of his grasp, snapping madly with her jaws, but he is easily strong enough to gain control, and I think he breaks her jaw in the process. But then he stops. He could crush her skull or rip her jaws apart, but instead he simply holds her until she stops trying to fight him.
"The redhead," he says. "Have you seen her?"
Leah is as surprised as we all are. She doesn't respond, but it is easy enough to see that she understands what he's asking.
"Where is she?" he demands, though I don't know how he expects the wolf to answer him.
Seth is close now—as am I—and despite Sam's hesitancy, he is planning to attack. Although Sam could order Seth to stay back and wait for him, and he wants to, he can't make himself do it—Leah could die before he gets there, and he concedes that Seth has a chance of distracting the vampire.
But I know a distraction won't be enough. Leah has gone into shock; her thoughts are barely coherent. Unless we can overpower the vampire, he will kill Leah before we can chase him off or carry her to safety.
I map out various scenarios in my head—worst case, when I arrive, Seth tries to attack me; best case, Sam convinces Seth to trust me, so I can distract the vampire while he protects his sister.
When I am finally within range of the vampire's thoughts, his identity is immediately clear: Victoria made herself a pet. Riley loves her desperately—with all the intensity of a newborn—and he is convinced she loves him just as deeply. He thinks she has been scouting the territory of a large vampire clan with special gifts—us, of course—because we have threatened to kill her and she is searching for a weakness, hoping to take us down instead. They have already set up a base out of Seattle and started building their vampire army.
From Seth's thoughts, I know I am barely ten seconds behind him when he rushes out to confront Riley.
"Seth, no!" I shout, revealing my presence because if Seth attacks Riley, Riley will kill Leah—and then Seth. (They will catch my scent soon enough anyway.)
Seth and Riley are both distracted by my shout. Sam is amazed, but even before his reassurance that I'm on their side, Seth is surprisingly open to trusting me. The young wolf hangs back to wait for me, growling in warning to the vampire who is soon to be outnumbered.
Riley keeps his grip on Leah; for now, she is a useful hostage.
I enter the clearing and stop a few yards from Seth's side.
"Riley," I say. "Victoria told me about you."
He freezes; for an instant, hope rushes through him, but then the distrust kicks in and he closes down. "You're a Cullen," he spits.
"Let the wolf go."
"Where's Victoria?"
If I tell him I killed her, it's possible he'll let Leah go and charge me, but it's even more likely that he'll snap her neck before coming after me, so I lie again. "She's at our home—we invited her to stay with us."
He snorts to express his skepticism, but the distraction is working. I can tell his arms are loosening around Leah. If only Leah weren't so terrified.
"She is discussing a treaty with our leader," I explain, hoping that might sound more believable. "We are considering letting her have a portion of Seattle."
"Why?"
"She's cunning and resourceful. She could be useful to us."
His lip curls; yes, this aligns with the ruthless Cullens she told him about. "Like your guard dogs?" he taunts.
Seth growls, but he isn't as angered by the inference as I'd expect—perhaps because his focus is on devising a plan to rescue Leah. He and Sam are thinking hard; even as I follow their thoughts, I am impressed by the young wolf's maturity.
"Victoria didn't tell you about them?" I ask, layering my tone with a mocking edge.
Riley sneers at me; he trusts her so completely that nothing I say will convince him she's a liar. His determination makes it especially easy for me; even if he hadn't attacked Leah, I would have every right to act in self-defense. "She told me your home is well defended."
Sam suggests a response, and I tailor it to fit Victoria's schemes. "She told us her army was obedient—yet you've entered our lands against her instructions. If you kill our wolf, I can't let you share in whatever treaty we reach with Victoria, and you will become our enemy."
Riley growls, angered by my patronizing reproof, but then, impossibly, he drops Leah's head, even though he doubts the wolf can recover from its injuries; even though, more importantly, he distrusts this talk of a treaty.
Seth tenses, but Sam tells him to wait for my signal.
"Stand back so her brother can—" Riley's thoughts give me a split-second's warning. I launch myself at him.
Though Riley is only a few months old, and therefore much stronger than I, I am still faster. I get there in time to push him away from Leah before he can drive his foot through her ribcage. But the strength necessary to force him back traps me within arm's reach for too long. He grabs my arm and throws me aside. I smash through a dozen tree trunks before managing to halt my momentum thanks to a larger tree, fifty-eight yards away.
As I extricate myself from the shattered trunk, Riley closes the distance between us. He intends to torture me to get to the truth. He is so certain that Victoria would have called him that there is only one conclusion: we caught her. And if we caught her, she is probably dead. Despite her unfaltering confidence in her ability to evade us, we must have somehow bested her.
"I killed her," I say, hoping his rage will distract him.
It does; he isn't quick enough to trap me against the tree. His fingertips catch my shirt as I dodge around him, snagging in the fabric and tearing a strip down the side.
"She begged for mercy," I add, playing the part of a textbook villain.
He roars. His thoughts are a frenzy of hatred and despair. "Liar!" he shrieks, racing after me. I lead him deeper into the forest, away from Leah, but he isn't thinking about the wolves at all. His every thought is fixed on ripping me apart.
While Riley is utterly focused on me, Seth stealthily follows us, waiting for me to herd the doomed vampire back toward him. I am a little nervous about letting Seth assist, but fighting Victoria sapped more of my strength than I'd thought, and sprinting here at top speed hasn't helped, so his help will make defeating Riley considerably easier—and between me and Sam, who is thinking with him, supporting him, I think we can protect him.
Why oh why didn't I go hunting today?, I ask myself, lamenting my foolish complacency. But I can't afford any distractions now, so I focus on Riley and on keeping just ahead of his powerful arms. I weave around trees and throw rocks at him, and all my tricks serve only one purpose: to drive his fury even higher. He is still sufficiently in control that nothing I do hurts him—only my words have the power to wound.
And then Seth bursts out of the trees and latches onto his arm. Riley roars and tries to throw him, but Seth is quicker—his powerful jaws sever the arm before Riley can flip him.
I know well the shock of being dismembered, but Riley reacts to it with a surprising degree of panic.
"Here, Seth!" I call, holding my hands out for the arm; if Riley weren't so disoriented, I wouldn't have dared to distract him.
Sam understands what I want before Seth does, so Seth tosses the arm to me without further ado, while Riley is still coming to terms with his loss. His conflicted thoughts seem to be paralyzing him, spinning from the fear of dying (again) to his grief over Victoria's loss to his need for revenge.
Seth and I take advantage of his indecision. I had planned to simply taunt him with the arm, but its rigidity and curiously super-hardened texture give me an idea. Holding the forearm, I use the hand like a spear and drive the fingers into Riley's neck, even as Seth clamps down on the as-yet-undamaged shoulder. Riley's focus is on trying to dislodge the hand, but the fingers are buried in his neck, so all he manages to do is break off the end of the little finger before he loses that arm, too. I lever the rest of the hand up and down and then Riley's screams cut off abruptly as his head parts from his body.
The body slumps to the ground, currently lifeless, and Seth and I take a moment to breathe. We share a grin, and I am caught a little off guard by the camaraderie in his thoughts. Though I am the very creature we have just defeated, he doesn't see me as a monster. He sees the tint of gold in my dark eyes, so distinct from the blood red of Riley's; and even though my scent stings his nose just as Riley's does, he thinks it is less irritating.
Sam concurs with his thoughts, but his own are more focused on his gratitude: although Leah is still in grave danger, they know that she would already be dead without my interference. Seth and I can see that Sam is almost here—he has run 14 miles in under eight minutes—so I suggest to Seth that he comfort his sister while I burn Riley's body.
Leah's thoughts are frighteningly weak, but at least she notices his presence.
We got him, Seth tells her, picturing the two of us tearing him apart.
She isn't overly comforted; she is in a lot of pain—even though she still can't feel her back legs—and she doesn't trust me, despite Seth's reassurances.
I keep well back and complete the task of carrying the pieces of Riley onto a clearer patch of ground so I can burn them without risking the forest.
Sam arrives as I strike two stones together to start the fire (not as efficient as the lighter I used last night, but effective enough).
Slow coach, Seth teases, but Sam can't joke—he is too worried about Leah.
The two consider changing back, but neither wants to lose the connection with Leah's thoughts or each other's, so Sam requests the use of my hands to check her physical condition.
I set Riley's remains alight; then, keeping one eye on the fire, I slowly approach the three wolves.
Leah is understandably unhappy about the idea, but Sam and Seth beg her to let me assess her injuries.
"I will be as gentle as possible," I promise her.
She isn't comforted, but she accepts that she is in no state to help herself—and the pain is growing rather than lessening, which worries all of us.
I move at human speed as I reach out to run my hands across her ribs, checking for any broken bones. She gives a weak yelp, but it is more the unpleasantness of my cold touch than actual pain, and her ribs are lying where they should. When I pass on this information, Sam's worries ease ever so slightly. I leave her head alone for now, despite my concerns for her jaw, and I don't bother to feel along her left leg—Riley clearly shattered the knee, and part of her shin bone is protruding through the skin. I check her shoulder, and it feels dislocated, but it isn't until I dare to run my fingers along her spine that I find an injury that feels beyond even the wolves' mighty healing ability.
Her lower spine is not merely severed, it is three inches from the nearest vertebra in her upper spine, and her back muscles are either twisted or completely torn away from the bone.
When I make no comment, they know it's bad. Sam wonders if she ought to try changing back—maybe her human body will heal faster, because it's smaller, but I am worried that her paralyzed lower body won't change back.
I give them the worst-case scenario. They don't know what drives the change any more than I do, so they can't say what might happen. Sam decides it's time to call in reinforcements. He gave the rest of the pack the night off, which is why they haven't already discovered our plight, so I call Jared and ask him to muster the others.
While we wait for them to join us telepathically, we debate how best to transport Leah back to La Push. None of the medical training I have seems at all useful. Then I realize the obvious. I whip out my phone and call Carlisle.
He answers before the first ring ends. "Wadie?" he says, his concern manifesting in his use of Esme's affectionate nickname for me (from her original nickname for me, Wade)—Alice has obviously apprised him of the situation.
"Leah's spine is badly broken," I blurt, trying to explain as quickly as possible. "We don't know if she should shift back to human form—or even if she can. What should we do? We're seven miles from Forks."
"Is she conscious?"
"Yes." Then I remember he doesn't know anything about the wolves' healing ability. "The wolves heal fast—at least a hundred times faster than humans—and she's not bleeding anymore, so she's healing, but her back half is still paralyzed."
"Unless you realign her vertebrae and set any broken bones, they will heal incorrectly."
I remember pictures of humans with curved limbs caused by a lack of or shoddy medical care after a break, and sifting through memories of Carlisle's memories provides some rather more unpleasant examples. I don't like what it means for Leah.
"Edward, you need to put her spine back in line before the bones start to fuse."
"I think they already have," I mumble.
He sighs. "Assess the damage to her vertebrae and then do what you can to align her spine and reattach any torn muscles and tendons. If the muscles have already started repairing themselves, fibers from different muscles could have knitted together, so only separate them if you can fix the misalignment."
While I struggle to process Carlisle's instructions, Paul joins us, then Embry and Jared one after the other. Their understandable horror momentarily incapacitates me, but when they start running, I can think again. I repeat Carlisle's advice for the whole pack's benefit.
Sam thinks we should try it, so he concentrates firmly on the change—it takes him much longer than usual to gain the necessary control—and then phases back to his human form so he can assist me. But he can't help feeling along her lower leg where the skin has already regrown over the compound fracture. Although the bone feels distinctly smoother, the misalignment is still as bad as it was. We both wince; Seth whimpers softly.
After relocating her shoulder, Sam considers trying to reset the bone now. I put my hand on his arm to stop him. "Carlisle knows what to do," I say. "We'll limit the damage as best we can, but I don't think we should try doing that."
"Carlisle doesn't know—"
"He knows everything there is to know about broken bones," I say. "He may not have a background in wolf physiology, but I promise you, he can help Leah better than anyone else on Earth."
Sam's trust in me isn't currently audible to his pack, though they can see him nod, but Seth's faith more than makes up for it. His thoughts stun the other wolves. While the seriousness of Leah's condition has effectively forced them to accept help from another vampire, Seth is utterly confident in my genuine care for his sister and the pack. If I say Carlisle is Leah's best hope, then Carlisle is Leah's best hope.
And then I remember that Carlisle is still waiting on the other end of the phone. "Get everything you think you might need to treat her spine, two broken legs, and a broken jaw—we'll bring her to the house, so please ask everyone to leave." (Seth is the only one of the pack untroubled by the thought of taking Leah to the home of seven vampires, but none of them can think of a better—or closer—option.)
"I'll be ready in forty-five minutes," he replies, trying to be as specific as possible.
"Thanks," I say. "We'll do what we can in the meantime."
"Of course," he replies, with absolute faith, before hanging up.
And then Sam and I set about straightening Leah's spine. Sam moves around to her other side, and together we raise her back half into its proper position. Leah can't feel anything, which scares her, but Seth does his best to comfort her, licking her forehead and thinking soothing, positive thoughts.
The next stage is far from pleasant, though, and she certainly feels it when I tear a small hole through her skin so that I can assess the damage to her spine. It is worse than I'd feared: the broken vertebra is almost completely crushed on one side, leaving no space for the spinal cord. Even if I break the vertebra apart and hold it until it knits back together in a more natural shape—or until Carlisle can somehow splint it—I don't know if the spinal cord can repair itself.
Sam's eyesight isn't as good as mine, but he can see enough to share my concerns. He agrees with me that we shouldn't play around with her spine—the chances of her getting any feeling back in her lower half in the next ten minutes are slim—so I straighten out the muscles that aren't too bound up with other muscles, align the two parts of her spine, and then let her skin reseal itself.
I take over from Sam holding her back half in place, keeping one hand on her spine so I can feel if anything shifts, while he does what he can to reposition her jaw, and then we wait for the others to arrive.
Eight long minutes later they burst into the clearing. Leah's muscles have tightened around the break in her spine, so, although she still can't feel anything, I feel a lot better about moving her.
Jared and Paul phase into human form so we can share Leah's weight amongst us as evenly as possible, while Embry and Seth start clearing a path through the trees. The two boys are sometimes overly efficient, so I keep them on target by giving frequent course corrections.
It takes us an hour to carry Leah the three miles to my home. Carlisle, with Esme's help, has considerately established a three-sided marquee on the lawn, so the wolves don't have to take Leah inside. I assure them that the rest of our family is far away, and they do their best to remain calm, though smelling seven different vampires has Embry's hackles up and would have the others' up, too, if they were in wolf form (Sam, Jared, and Paul) or not too weak (Leah). Seth alone is easy-going about the location, and he isn't keeping tabs on Carlisle and me the way the others are.
We set Leah down on the queen-size bed (it is Carlisle and Esme's, but Esme has bought new sheets, so the vampire smell is relatively faint). The moment they let go of Leah, Jared and Paul phase back. They both crave the comfort of the communal pack mind in this anxiety-fueling situation, and although Seth's bizarrely relaxed attitude towards us vampires irritates them, it helps ease their edginess.
Sam and I keep hold of Leah to make sure her back doesn't slump, while Carlisle introduces himself and then begins to assess her condition. As he feels along her skeleton, he explains that he has spent the past ten minutes on the internet studying the wolf skeleton and physiology, so he has a rudimentary understanding, but he will still think of her as human first and foremost. (As he speaks, he tells me in his thoughts that he rang Alice, so Bella knows what is happening. I thank him with a smile, grateful that I don't have to worry about her, or try to support Leah's spine while calling Alice.)
His long-perfected bedside manner begins to work on both patient and pack, and soon they are all watching him with more curiosity than anxiety. His thoughts are fascinating. Once he has assessed her injuries, he explains to Leah and the others what damage has been done to her body. It is a long list of grievous injuries. Her jawbone has healed crookedly, her front left leg is a mass of fused and deformed bone, her back left knee is shattered, two vertebrae in her neck and back are fused and warped, one vertebra is half squashed, and many of her core muscles and tendons have not reattached themselves to the correct bones or in the correct arrangement. But after that sorry news, he gives us hope that all these injuries, including her spine and spinal cord, can heal.
As he sets about repairing her broken body, starting with putting in a morphine drip, we all cling to that hope.