Alice dropped him off in the morning to keep with the slumber party charade.

Beau found himself growing weary of the pretenses required to protect the secret. He wouldn't miss this part of being human.

"Did you have fun?" Charlie asked.

"Sure. It was great," Beau called over his shoulder as he wandered into the kitchen.

For all its bells and whistles, there was one thing the Cullen house lacked: snacks. Beau was so busy scouring the cabinets that he almost didn't hear Charlie's call from the other room.

"You've got a message."

Beau took a bite of an energy bar before reaching for the pad they kept by the phone. He grimaced, though he wasn't sure if it was from cardboard-like taste or the words Charlie had written:

Jacob called. He said he didn't mean it, and that he's sorry. He wants you to call him.

Be nice and give him a break. He sounded upset.

Jacob could take a hike, as far as Beau was concerned. He thought Beau was better off dead, so he might as well get used to the silence. It was good practice for the future.

"Aren't you going to call Jacob?"

"No."

"That's not cool, Beau."

"Mind your own business," Beau told him as he made his way up the stairs.

The Swans took turns washing the house linens and towels every week. It was Beau's week to put clean ones in the bathroom and collect the towels that needed to go to the laundry. When that was done, he emptied his duffel bag and returned it to the closet.

Beau went searching for a fresh set of sheets. It wasn't until Beau was making up the bed that he noticed his pillow was missing.

Beau turned in a circle, scanning the room. No pillow. Strange.

On a stranger note, his room looked . . . tidy. Beau worked hard to pull his weight in the shared spaces, but his bedroom always needed some organizing by the end of the school week.

Hadn't he left his button-down shirt out on the desk? It needed to go to the dry cleaners before he could wear it to graduation. The corresponding hanger was still up in the closet—empty.

Yet the pillow and his shirt were nowhere to be seen.

"Dad, have you seen my pillow?"

"Um, no," Charlie shouted from the living room. "It's not there?"

"No."

"I haven't seen it."

He remembered then that Alice came by to pick up his stuff at the start of the hostage crisis. She had likely seen his intention to wear that shirt and took it to the dry cleaners herself.

The pillow was mystifying, though. It might have been among the pillows on that god-awful bed in Edward's room, simply disguised in one of the decorative shams.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Not yet," Beau yelled back down the stairs.

He gave up when the doorbell rang. That would be Edward.

"Door," Charlie said as Beau passed the couch.

"Don't strain yourself, Dad."

Beau opened the door with a smile. It died when he took in the fear on Edward's face.

"What's wro—"

Edward put a finger to his lips. "Give me two seconds. Don't move."

Beau obeyed.

Edward moved so quickly that Charlie wouldn't have seen him pass. He was back in seconds to guide Beau from the doorway into the kitchen. He continued until they were in the farthest corner of the room and out of Charlie's hearing range.

"Someone's been here. One of us."

His tone made it clear he didn't mean a member of the Cullen family.

"Victoria?" Beau whispered.

"It's not a scent I recognize."

"One of the Volturi?"

"Could be. Not all of them reside in Volterra."

"When?"

"That's why I think it must have been them. It's fresh. It had to be early this morning while Charlie was sleeping. And whoever it was didn't touch him, so there had to be another purpose for the visit."

"Looking for me."

Beau felt himself break into a cold sweat. An intruder had stalked these rooms while his father slept. Had this interloper been thirsty, Charlie would never have known what hit him.

Beau wasn't sure what frightened him more. They were talking about a vampire with enough precision to sneak in, leave Charlie unharmed and unaware, and sneak right back out. This was a vampire that Beau had missed by inches, thanks to his last night as a hostage in the Cullen compound.

He now felt terrible for comparing the arrangement to Gitmo. Controlling or not, Edward had saved his life—again.

"Let's go."

"What about Charlie?"

Edward reached for his cell phone and dialed. "Emmett, something's happened. I need you and Jasper to get come here . . . "

Beau put his head in his hands, not bothering to listen to the rest of the conversation. This had been a very close call—deliberately so. It seemed exactly like something the Volturi would do.

It was a threat. A taunt. A taunt that seemed to say, look what we can do.

"Emmett and Jasper are going to sweep the woods. Charlie will be fine. Come on."

Beau allowed Edward to lead him to the car. He drove faster than usual, which sent Beau's anxiety through the roof.

"Where are we going?"

"To talk to Alice."

"Do you think she saw something?"

"Maybe."

The Cullens were waiting for them, standing as still as statues. Beau felt like he was walking into a museum.

"What happened?"

"I have no idea. I didn't see anything."

"How is that possible?"

Beau was shocked by the bald anger Edward directed at his sister. He had only seen the two of them like this on the night of the baseball game, when James and his coven crashed the party.

"Edward," Beau started to say, but no one listened.

Carlisle stepped in to keep the peace. "It's not an exact science, Edward."

"I picked up the scent in Beau's room. He could have still been there, waiting."

"I would have seen that."

Edward was aghast. "Really? You would have seen that, but not the initial break-in?"

Alice's voice dropped to hiss. "I'm already watching the Volturi's decisions, Victoria's decisions, and Beau's every move. I'm not a closed-circuit television, Edward. If I do too much at once, things are going to start slipping through the cracks."

"It looks like they already are!"

"He was never in any danger. Beau was here with us, remember? There was nothing for me to see."

"If you're watching Italy, why didn't you see them send someone?"

"I don't think it's them," she insisted. "I would have seen that."

"Who else would leave Charlie alive?"

"I don't know."

"Helpful."

"Stop it, Edward," Beau chided him. "Alice is doing everything she can."

The room went silent. No one ever dared to contradict Edward and his gift, but Beau had no such compunctions.

He knew Edward well enough to recognize the shame growing on his face.

"You're right. Forgive me, Alice. I shouldn't be taking this out on you. That was inexcusable."

"I understand," Alice sighed. "I'm not happy about it, either."

Beau went to sit on the couch. The others followed him, still talking amongst themselves. Only Rosalie stayed where she was, staring through the glass wall with her arms folded.

Esme sat next to Beau and began to rub his back. The gesture almost moved him to tears. She seemed to sense he needed mothering, as it became clearer to everyone how close he'd come to losing his father today.

"Okay, let's look at this logically. What are the possibilities?"

"Victoria?" Carlisle asked.

"No, I didn't know the scent. He might have been from the Volturi, someone I've never met. Like a contract killer, but without the killing."

Beau put a shaking hand to his mouth. It felt like he was entering the beginning stage of a panic attack, but it was happening in slow motion, which only made him feel worse.

Alice's voice sounded tinny and far away.

"Aro hasn't asked anyone to look for him yet. I will see that. In fact, I'm waiting for it."

"You're watching for an official command."

"Right. Why? Do you think someone is acting on their own?"

"Caius seems like the type to work around an edict. If the ends justify the means . . . "

Carlisle didn't agree. "That would be difficult to accomplish with Aro's gift. If anyone was planning a covert operation, I would suspect Jane. Maybe even Heidi, working as a procurer."

"It doesn't make sense, though," Esme said as she took one of Beau's hands in hers. "They didn't wait for Beau. They didn't hurt him or Charlie. Nothing was procured."

"Then what was the point of it?"

"Checking to see if I'm still human?" Beau asked.

"Possible," Carlisle replied.

A deep sigh broke the ensuing silence. Rosalie had turned in the direction of the kitchen, anticipating her husband's arrival. Jasper was right behind him.

"Long gone, hours ago. The trail went east, then south, and disappeared on a side road. Had a getaway car waiting."

Jasper produced a small piece of fabric from his pocket. It looked like it had been torn from a shirtsleeve. He handed it to Carlisle, who held the fabric to his face for a moment.

"Neither of us recognized the scent. Do you?"

"No, I don't. It doesn't belong to anyone I've ever met."

No one spoke. They had gone in just about every direction they could, and yet, they were no closer to an answer.

Beau was slowly coming to the realization that the world of vampires was much bigger than he ever thought. How many times did the average human cross paths with one in a single day? How many deaths reported as crimes or car accidents were actually the work of a thirsty vampire?

"Does it really matter who it was?" Beau finally asked. "Just the chance that someone was looking for me . . . isn't that reason enough? We shouldn't wait any longer to proceed."

"No, Beau. It's not that bad. If you're really in danger, we'll know."

"Think of Charlie," Carlisle said. "Think of how it would hurt him if you disappeared."

Beau forced his voice to remain even. "I am thinking of Charlie. As long as I'm around him, he's a target, too. If anything happened to him, it would be all my fault."

Esme's maternal instincts must have been raging. "Hardly, Beau. Nothing will happen to Charlie, I promise. We're just going to have to be more careful."

"More careful?"

"It's all going to be fine."

Beau looked from one beautiful face to the other. Every one of them was earnest.

It was obvious that there was nothing he could say to change their minds.

It was a quiet ride back to Charlie's house.

Beau was frustrated. Against his better judgment, he was still human.

"You won't be alone for a second, Beau," Edward said as he drove. "Someone will always be there. Emmett, Alice, Jasper . . . "

"This is ridiculous. Your siblings will be so bored, they'll have to kill me themselves, just to break up the monotony."

"Hilarious, Beau."

"Jacob called again while you were out," Charlie said as the boys came in the door.

"Is that a fact?"

"Don't be like that, Beau. He sounded pretty low."

"Too bad."

"I really think you should—"

Beau hit the button to activate the stove exhaust fan, effectively drowning out whatever Charlie wanted to say. Beau started washing the vegetables, keeping his back to him as he worked.

His father eventually gave up and left the room, scowling.

Edward silently handed him the frying pan. Beau had the distinct impression Edward wanted to laugh at his stubbornness, but restrained himself.

Good. Beau didn't want to be sour with him, too.

It didn't seem like it, but Charlie had hit his mark.

Beau thought his life was turning out like a game of dice. How much longer until he rolled snake eyes?

And what if something did happen to him? If Beau died, his friend would always feel guilty for the way their last conversation ended. If things were the other way around, it would haunt Beau for the rest of his life.

Edward left for the evening, but he would be back later, while Charlie was asleep.

Beau stared into the downpour, wondering who was posted there to watch over the Swan house tonight. He felt bad for whoever it was, having to stand in the rain for hours. Yet he took some comfort in the fact they weren't alone, even if Charlie didn't know it.

Charlie left early the next morning to go fishing with Deputy Mark. Edward sat at the table and read the newspaper while Beau ate his breakfast.

"I'm going to let Jacob off the hook."

"I'm glad."

Beau didn't hide his pleasure. It felt like real progress was being made here.

A dull voice answered on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Jake, it's me, Beau."

"Beau! Oh, brother, I am so sorry. I swear I didn't mean it. I was just being stupid. I was angry—but that's no excuse. It was the stupidest thing that I've ever said in my life and I've said a lot of stupid things. Don't be mad at me, please? Please. Lifetime of servitude up for grabs—all you have to do is forgive me."

"Don't have a cow, Jacob. You're forgiven."

"Thank you," Jacob breathed. "I can't believe I was such a jerk."

"It happens. I've been a jerk to you from time to time."

"Come down and see me. I want to make it up to you."

Beau raised his eyebrows. "How?"

"Anything you want."

Beau glanced at Edward. His face was very calm, but it didn't feel like the time for a visit to La Push.

"Not right now."

"He's not thrilled with me, is he?"

"That's not the problem. There's . . . well, we have a situation going on here at the moment. Something much bigger than a bratty teenage werewolf."

Jacob wasn't fooled. "What's wrong?"

"Um . . . " He didn't know how to begin. Nothing bad had happened—yet.

Edward went around the table and held out his hand for the phone. Beau spoke into the receiver, his eyes not leaving Edward's.

"Do you mind speaking to Edward? He wants to talk to you."

There was a long pause at the end of the line.

"Okay. This should be interesting."

Edward took the phone. "Hello, Jacob."

Beau listened to one side of the conversation: how Edward had come to the house and detected the scent of an intruder. That Beau and Charlie were both safe, but the intruder was gone, with the motive behind his visit still unexplained.

"Someone was here—not a scent I know. Has your pack come across anything new . . . ah. Well, here's the crux, Jacob. I'm not letting Beau out of my sight until I get this taken care of. It's nothing personal—"

Jacob must have interrupted him. Whatever he was saying, he was determined to get his point across. To his credit, Edward let him talk.

"You might be right . . . hmm. That's an interesting suggestion. We're quite willing to renegotiate. If Sam is amenable."

Beau folded his arms across his chest impatiently. Renegotiate what? Edward and Jacob sounded like they were discussing the closing of a real estate acquisition, not a matter of life or death.

"Thank you . . . I planned to go alone, actually. I'd leave Beau with the others."

Beau couldn't hear Jacob's exact words, but the volume of his voice rose, as though trying to close the deal.

"I'll try to consider it objectively . . . yes, as objectively as I'm capable of."

Beau tapped his watch. Edward ignored him.

"That's not a half-bad idea. When did you . . . ten minutes. Certainly. Beau?"

Beau took the phone again. "What the hell was that all about?"

"A truce, I think," Jacob told him. "Hey, do me a favor. Try to convince your bloodsucker that the safest place for you to be—especially when he leaves—is on the reservation. We can handle anything."

"Is that what you were trying to sell him?"

"Yes, it makes total sense. Charlie's probably better off here, too. As much as possible."

"Get Billy on it. What else?"

"Just rearranging some boundaries. That way we can catch any vampire that gets too close to Forks. I'm not sure if Sam will go for it, but until he comes around, I'll keep an eye on things."

"What do you mean by 'keep an eye on things'?"

"I mean that if you see a wolf running around near your house, don't shoot at it."

"Of course not," Beau sighed. "But you shouldn't be doing anything risky."

"Don't be stupid, Beau. This is my job now. And while you're working on your bloodsucker, get him to let you visit. He knows as well as I do that you'd be safe here."

"I'll keep that in mind."

It sounded like Jacob was walking through his house. "Okay, I gotta run. I'll see you a few."

"You're coming here?"

"Yeah. I'm going to get the scent of your mystery vamp so we can track him."

"Jake, I don't like the idea of you tracking—"

"Oh please, Beau," Jacob laughed, then hung up.