AN: Hey guys and dolls. Its been a hellish time, I'll be honest, but a lot of fun to get back to writing. The story is starting its final arc (we've ended the middle and begun the end, if you see what I mean) and I really, truly, deeply appreciate the readers that have been so supportive and made this so rewarding since the beginning. I try to remind myself that many enthusiastic readers are shy about reviews, but to those of you who do: you're so, so awesome. On a final note, I'm really behind in my reading--I try hard to make sure I keep up with the reviewers stories at the very least--and I don't know when I'm going to catch up again. Please don't ever take it as a comment on your talent and keep writing. This semester has to end sometime.
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"I love you," I whispered back, and then began the slow climb inside when he'd reached the trees.
How to do it, how to do it, how to do it, how to do it; the question ticked back and forth across all of our faces. The new table smelled strongly of pine and fresh varnish, and the light tapping of nervous fingertips drummed and echoed around the room. Quil and Embry stared down at the empty surface, for once no laughter between them; Sam and Leah took opposite ends of the table but there was no remaining tension between them lingering in the air—well, not related to anything about themselves. Occasionally their eyes would drift towards one another, but without any brilliant ideas flashing behind them, they never spoke. Edward sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, and Leah snapped at him.
"When you sigh this close to me, I have to smell your stinky cotton candy breath. Can you cut it out?"
Edward looked hurt for a moment before he snapped back. "I wasn't aware this was a kindergarden classroom. I shall keep my grown-up sighing to a minimum from here on so it doesn't frighten any children." They glared at each other. No one laughed. None of us felt better than either of them; their bickering was the byproduct of too many days passing without a decent plan.
"Go over it again." Leah said it quietly; it was her way of apologizing to him.
"You already know everything I'm going to say," he returned her tone, looking hopeless.
"Do it anyway," she urged, and with another heavy sigh—unmarred by any cutting comments—Edward agreed.
"Their headquarters have several ways in; firstly, through the front (and presumably back) entrances, which are guarded by a force of humans, and a second of vampires—although the vampires are unconfirmed, I am sure they are close by. These entrances and exits look like hotel lobbies. There is a tower area where the elder members of the guard stage their court; where the lower ranking members are at any given time probably depends on their mission status and about that, we know nothing."
"Primary targets," muttered Leah. Edward rolled his eyes and continued.
"First: their tracker." His brow furrowed. "Carlisle wasn't introduced, but he heard him referred to once; not by name, unfortunately." He sighed. "After that, it depends on what you think may be necessary, although it would be safe to say, I believe, that Caius is the next—"
"Caius is my primary target," growled Jacob, and a palpable shiver ran over my skin. He noticed and took my hand, squeezed it gently, and then looked back at Edward, who continued naming the guard and debating with Leah over which would be most likely to pursue the pack, should they attack.
And they would attack; how or when, we did not know. But soon. Two and a half days had passed since the night in the clearing, and Jacob was still alpha. Sam had taken a deep breath, shaken his head, and told him no in a firm, clear voice when Jake asked him to step back in to position; Leah had similarly declined, and then snapped that if he had the right to refuse, once upon a time, he couldn't very well back out now when they needed him. I believe the phrase 'once bitten, twice shy' was used, because I heard Quil singing in a high pitched, hair-metal voice every time he was near Jacob for the next two days.
The passing time had been filled with stories, weaving in and out of one another, more puzzle pieces falling languidly in to place. Edward's startled gasp during Jacob's tale about meeting his imprint had been the most revealing; watching Jacob's memories, Edward recognized Caius from Carlisle's visit to Italy. The menacing force that had killed Jacob's imprint was none other than a Volturi squad sent specifically to track and kill werewolves, whom they had driven to near extinction in Europe. Caius, apparently, held a bit of a vendetta against them, having almost been killed by one once.
And that last detail, of course, lead to another revelation: the werewolves, or children of the moon, were much stronger than the La Push wolves—but only for three days a month. "It's more like a virus," Jake had told me, and apparently this was true; Carlisle and Edward hypothesized that it was similar to the same condition that held the vampires in an immortal, icy grasp, transformation by venom. The werewolves aged, and they had no supernatural powers until they were older, as the La Push wolves did even in youth, with their heightened sense of smell and hearing. After puberty the werewolf in the newcomers became more pronounced. Their bight—their own venom--was fatal to vampires, even in human form. They were not able to regenerate. They were not connected telepathically in wolf form. They were merciless, relentless monsters without much semblence to human life; in fact, they were more like vampires than the La Push wolves.
Jacob hadn't wanted to share his memories of his imprint with Edward for obvious reasons, but he'd eventually agreed to sit with the young alpha and talk to her about her wolves. She was desperate to find a way to transform at will, and after she left the room, their talk unsatisfying for all parties, Edward looked gravely after her. Leah wandered away, and I quietly stood and resettled behind Jacob, taking the opportunity to brush his long, tangled hair.
"She watched as her mother was killed by vampires." Edward looked back at Jacob. "She's been infected since birth, and has never known any kind of normal human life. Her pack fled the vampire massacres in Europe when she was small, and she watched the adults get picked off, one by one, until there were none left. She's been living on and around the Appalachian Trail for three years, and the children with her are all infected as well. Three of them were the children of her pack mates, one is a baby they found on the Trail."
"Is it infected too?"
"Yes," Edward said, frowning. "Though not deliberately. It startled one of the other young ones when they were all sleeping, and was bitten." His expression was fearful. "It was an accident."
"So what you're saying is they're dangerous?"
"If it weren't obvious before, yes." Edward peered in to Jacob's eyes. "They're not like your people, Jacob. They're dangerous even in human form, the way any group of people with nothing to lose tends to be." He didn't need to mention the little girl's knife again.
"Will their venom hurt us?" Jacob's forehead was smooth, his hands still; he wasn't going to abandon the small werewolves simply because they were dangerous. Young wolves in the La Push pack were known to be dangerous as well, after all. I rested my forehead against his supple, strong back, wrapping my arms around his waist. Edward sighed.
"I don't know, but as vampire venom is toxic to the wolves, I would suppose so. There's no way to be sure without courting tragedy." He once again leaned forward, staring bluntly up at Jacob's face. "I don't believe I was clear—they don't always choose their alphas when they're wolves, Jacob." He waited for Jacob to understand, grew impatient, and spoke again. "They attack each other in human form. They live to dominate and divide." His gold eyes ticked back and forth between Jake's black ones. "They are not bound by family or honor—perhaps once, long ago. Now they are all merely refugees, with no law between them."
"People thought that way about us, once." Jake wasn't talking about the wolves; he was using a larger us. Edward surrendered, sighing and rolling his eyes. He turned his back and watched the youngsters frolic and wrestle in the wide lot behind Emily's restaurant. Jacob and Leah had been spending more and more time together; her vocal political battles with Edward clued me in immediately to the source of his sense of defeat when confronted with Jacob's simple words, clearly resonant of hers.
"I wish Leah would live more presently," he murmured, and then grew embarrassed at the quiet revelation. "She lives so much in books she's starting to sound like one."
"No wonder you've got such a crush on her," Jacob prodded. "You've always sounded like some frilly, eighteenth century novel—"
"I do not have a crush on anyone," Edward said, and arched one delicate eyebrow. Jake laughed out loud, and it flattened on Edwards smooth, faintly glimmering brow, his mouth pinched to keep from laughing too.
"Why not, Edward?" This came from me, and both men were still, and suddenly quiet. I knew I was walking a very taunt, invisible tightrope, but I trusted they both knew how I loved them, and hoped I was right to.
"She fascinates me, I will not lie," he said slowly, and then turned to watch the children again. "You must understand, to hear her mind…" He grew thoughtful. "There are so many layers to it, it goes so deep, so much of it blatantly contradicting and filled with wild despair and hope…" Edward suddenly turned and looked at us. "I suppose it goes without saying, but the only thing more intriguing than her mind is one I could not hear at all." He smiled sadly at us, tipped his head, and was gone.
"Poor guy," Jacob said, and I brushed one tear away, which he kindly ignored, before finishing his braid and crawling beneath his arm to curl in his lap. We watched the kids until everyone arrived, and then, of course, we sat at the table. The acrid scent of the lacquer tickled my nose. The drone of Leah and Edward, and then Quil, then Sam, even Jacob…none of it sparked any new ideas.
How to do it, how to do it, how to do it, how to do it…