The man paused, perhaps taken aback by the alarm on her face. "Yes," he said slowly. "We have a-" Suddenly he hesistated, cocking his head as if he heard something.
"What's wrong?" Bella quickly got to her feet, clutching her food in one hand and the stair railing in the other. He didn't answer, and so she focused on trying to hear whatever he was listening to.
More footsteps. Bella flinched. She glanced around the Visitors Center, trying to locate the walking stick that she had tossed away after hitting him with it. He was already reaching for his gun, but she would feel better with a weapon of her own in her hand. There was the familiar creaking sound of someone walking up the porch steps, and Bella tensed as the man man moved towards the door, his steps sure and silent. He took up position behind the door, and then turned his head to glance out of one of the windows at whatever was coming up the steps. He made a gorgeous picture with the sun streaming onto his head and shoulders and making his skin glow and his hair flash like fire, Bella thought, not, of course, that she was interested. She was engaged, after all, she reminded herself and then paused that train of thought before it could lead to the inevitable, terrifying question: whether Jacob was even alive.
Whatever the man saw made him relax, oddly enough, and before Bella could say anything he stepped forward and pushed the Center door open. Much to Bella's surprise, there was a living woman standing in the sunlight, a machete in hand. "Here you are," the woman said briskly, stepping inside and pulling the door behind her. "I got worried when you didn't come back when you said you would… Who's this?" She asked suddenly when she noticed Bella.
"She was in here looking for water," the man explained quickly. He moved as he spoke, crossing to the Center counter, where several backpacks were on display. He selected three and tossed one to the blonde woman. "You shouldn't have left the car," he told her, a line appearing between his brows.
"You're not in charge," the woman told him flatly. She took a few steps forward to inspect Bella, who regarded her with equal curiosity. The woman looked a little more worn out than the man did. Bella had the distinct impression that she was not used to roughing it. Her nails wore the chipped remains of what had probably been a very expensive manicure, and her brand-name leather sandals revealed a matching pedicure. She still looked far better than Bella felt, however, and if you looked past the chipped nails and the long scratch on her face, she was actually quite beautiful. She had the kind of face that made makeup redundant. Her lips were naturally red and pouty, her eyelashes were already long and thick, and her cheekbones didn't need extra definition. Apart from a few bugbites, her skin was practically flawless. "Hi," she said extending a hand. Her tone wasn't overly friendly, and she was still studying Bella as they shook hands.
"I'm Bella," she said, waiting for the woman to introduce herself.
"I'm going to go check the traps," the man spoke. He was moving fast. He had already filled the two backpacks with water and snacks from the vending machine, and now he was walking to the door. "Take the supplies to the car and both of you wait for me there. Don't leave it again," he instructed the woman. "If something goes wrong, I want you both to get out of here. Just drive back to camp."
"Nothing's going to go wrong," the woman said in that same firm tone, "because you are not leaving me to deal with your brothers on my own," her nose wrinkled with distaste. "So be careful."
"Traps?" Bella asked as the man slipped silently out of the front door.
"Traps," the woman confirmed. "I'm surprised that you didn't get caught in one on your way here. You must be very lucky."
"Hardly," Bella snorted.
"Take this," the woman passed Bella one of the full backpacks, and moved to fill a third with what was left in the vending machine. "You can carry it, can't you?" She asked when Bella stumbled a little under the weight.
No, Bella felt like she was ready to collapse, but there was something about this beautiful, coldly confident woman with a machete that made her want to seem strong. "Sure," she said, as confidently as she could manage.
"Good," the woman said, eying her appraisingly, and Bella was struck by the woman's eyes. They were startling eyes, Liz Taylor violet and very piercing. "My name is Rosalie," she revealed finally. "And we'll talk more once we're out of here," she said, zipping up the third backpack. "Here," she said, handing it to Bella, who clasped it awkwardly. "You can manage both of them, can't you?" She asked.
"Sure," Bella repeated, her arms shaking.
"Good." Rosalie swung a backpack over her free arm, and then strode forward, the machete clasped tightly in her hand.