This is fanfic, I don't own, etc. Content note for violence & threats of violence. Coming next week: some gosh-dang answers.
Edward Cullen wasn't in Biology on Friday. In theory, that should have made me feel great, since his brooding presence and very intentional cold shoulder made me angrier than I had any right to be. In reality, it left me on-edge and irritated. I just couldn't win.
But I refused to let him ruin a perfectly good outing with Jessica and Angela. I put all irritating boys far in the back of my mind on the drive over to Jessica's house, where we were meeting to carpool out to Port Angeles. I had a printout with the address of the Port Angeles library (which was having a used book sale that I wanted to check out) in my bag, along with dry snacks, a bottle of water, and the pepper spray that Charlie had bought me. I didn't know what was going to happen, but I was prepared.
Jessica talked about everything from homework ("I haven't even looked at my vocab for this week! Angela, how do you say "I'm so screwed" in Spanish?") to the upcoming ISS assembly flight ("It's the first Return to Flight mission since the accident in 2003! All of my fingers are crossed."). Angela responded occasionally and intelligently. I tried to listen but kept getting distracted by my own thoughts, like Why don't the Cullens go to the beach? and I hope Charlie remembers to reheat his meatloaf.
"Are you still going on that hike next weekend?" Angela asked, during a lull in conversation.
"No," Jessica answered. "Mike's dad doesn't want us to go out again until they find that cougar."
"I thought groups were safe?" I asked, thinking back to a previous conversation.
"Waylon—you know, Cora's husband—and one of his friends were found dead down by the docks yesterday morning," Jessica said, her normally-exuberant voice subdued. "That's four dead this month. Even though large groups are probably safe, his parents don't want us to take any risks."
"Oh god," I said, realizing with shock how self-absorbed I had been for the last week. Was this part of why Charlie had been so on edge lately? "I hadn't heard."
"They're going to do an assembly about wild animal safety next week," Angela said. Her mother was a teacher, I belatedly remembered. "I think your dad is helping with it, actually, Bella."
"Cool," I said, reminding myself to ask Charlie about it when I got home and surreptitiously fingering my pepper spray. The fact that I spent all of my time indoors would make me an unlikely victim, but my luck had never been particularly great. Being one of the twenty-four (well, twenty-eight, now) North Americans to die by cougar attack in recorded history sounded like it was right up my alley. Did I know that number because "death by wild animal" was on my cons list of moving to Forks? Yes.
The store that Jessica had chosen for our shopping spree did not quite succeed at being high-end, although I had to give it points for trying. The lighting was low, the mannequins were decked with jewelry, and the salesladies had big smiles and were overly-eager to please.
Angela headed straight for a section of very long dresses, while Jessica grabbed me by the hand and went through the racks like a whirlwind; by the time we had reached the fitting rooms at the back of the store, she had acquired three armfuls of dresses to try on. Before I was even sure what was going on, I was stationed in a chair outside her stall, ready to approve or veto her choices.
"What about this one?" she asked, appearing in the doorway.
Looking at the dress, I had absolutely no useful thoughts to contribute. "I'm not very good at this," I apologized.
"Don't worry! What you're looking at is color and fit," Jessica explained. "Does the color look good with my hair and skin? Is the length flattering? Does the waist make me look weirdly-shaped? Do you like the neckline?"
I had never really thought that much about clothes before. I just wore a lot of nondescript jeans and long-sleeved shirts—when I wasn't wearing pajamas. Trying to keep her advice in mind, I scrutinized the dress. "It… has a lot of sequins? And they're light-colored… I think you'd look better in something darker. But the length is good. Is any of that helpful?"
Jessica bounced over and wrapped her arms around me. "Very helpful! I'm glad you came."
As she disappeared back into the stall, I felt cheered by her welcoming positivity, even if I still wasn't sure why I was participating.
Thirteen dresses later, I still wasn't sure why I was participating, but I was definitely gaining an appreciation of what I didn't like in prom dresses. Angela was curled up on a chair nearby, having picked her outfit—a red floor-length halter-top (my fashion vocabulary was improving) with sparkly flats to match—within five minutes. I sighed and checked my phone. The library was going to be closing in a little less than an hour and, if the pile of dresses that Jessica had yet to try on was any measure, we weren't even close to being done.
"Bored?" Angela asked sympathetically.
I grimaced. "No," I said, only somewhat untruthfully, "but the library has a used book sale that I wanted to check out."
"Oh, I hadn't heard," Angela said, checking her phone. "Does it close at 6?"
"Yeah."
"Jessica might take that long, so why don't you go ahead and get your books? I'll take over as fashion consultant."
"You wouldn't mind?" I hesitated, eager to go but not wanting to inconvenience Angela and Jessica.
"Bye, Bella!" Jessica yelled from the stall. "Have a nice walk!"
"Go on," Angela said. "We'll meet up at La Belle Italia? I'll text you the address."
"Thank you!"
The sun had just set, although with all the trees around all that could be seen was a faint glow through the lowest clouds. My printout informed me that it was a fifteen minute walk to the library and helpful streetlights illuminated the way.
The library was quiet when I entered. The librarian greeted me with a smile, which I returned cheerfully. I scanned the sale section, finding a tattered volume of local history, a historical fantasy that looked interesting, and two scifi novels, over the course of half an hour.
The librarian—a different one than the pleasant middle-aged woman who had greeted me the first time—informed me that the library was closing up, so I contented myself with my finds and settled up. I asked him for directions to the Italian place, a little tongue-tied (not that that was any different from most of my interactions with strangers) and he obliged, scribbling a list on the back of my receipt with a smile that was a little toothier than was strictly necessary.
I exited the library and took the turn that he had indicated. I found myself walking down a fairly large street bordered by residential areas. After a few blocks, the sidewalk on my side of the street disappeared, so I crossed to the roughly-beaten track on the other side. I hoped that nobody would run over me by accident, but there didn't seem to be much traffic. I kept walking… and walking… and walking. Maybe fifteen minutes later, the road turned into a highway, shrouded on both sides by overhanging trees. This couldn't be right, could it? I finally saw a street sign that was listed on the scribbled receipt, and I turned gratefully—according to my directions, I was nearly there.
Just as I passed the one working streetlight within view, my phone rang. I scrambled through my bag to pull it out, removing my pepper spray, a bag of snacks, and two books before I finally found it.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Bella," Jessica said on the other end. "Are you okay? On your way? Should we come pick you up?"
"No, no," I hastened to reassure her, "I'm almost there! I just turned off of Highway 101."
"The what?" she asked. "Do you mean Lincoln Street?"
"Uh, no," I said, looking back what was definitely Highway 101. "The librarian said—"
"Tell me exactly where you are right now and I'll come get you," she said, and it sounded like she wasn't going to take no for an answer.
"Well, I'm just off of Highway 101," I said. "Let me find a street sign and call you back."
"I'll go get my car," she said, and hung up.
I put the books, snacks, pepper spray and phone back into my bag and cursed myself for being an idiot—but really, who expects their friendly local librarian to lead them astray?—and started backtracking to the nearest street sign, but my path was suddenly blocked by a dark figure who stood just outside the singular street light's illumination. I couldn't make out any distinguishing features no matter how hard I strained to see in the darkness.
"Umm, can I help you?" I sounded shaky to myself, but maybe the person wouldn't notice.
"You seem lost, little lady," the stranger replied. His voice was strangely familiar but I couldn't place it.
"I-I'm fine, thank you." Now I was stuttering. My hand slipped into my bag and I gripped the comforting shape of my pepper spray.
"Not for long." There was a vicious glee underlying his words and he started edging toward the light.
"G-get back," I ordered, wishing my voice was a little less high-pitched.
He tilted his head, like he was thinking about it. "No."
"I have p-pepper spray," I threatened, brandishing my canister and desperately wishing (for the only time in my life) that I carried a gun instead.
"Oh my, ain't I frightened," he mocked, and I wilted. Of course he wasn't afraid of a small, unintimidating person like myself. Why would he be?
He took a step forward and I saw my chance: I sprayed him full in the face with the pepper spray, then launched myself past him in an attempt to get away.
"Where d'you think you're going?" he hissed, catching my arm as I sprinted past. I yelped as he spun me toward him, his grip so tight I was sure there would be bruises tomorrow. If there was a tomorrow. I whimpered as he drew me close, bracing myself for the worst. He rested his nose against my neck and… sniffed? I shuddered and tried to pull away but he was impossible strong. It felt like struggling against a wall. Displeased, he wrapped an arm around my throat and I choked.
"Let go of me," I snarled, the words contorted by my fight for air.
"I don't think so," he murmured in my ear. His grip tightened and suddenly it was all I could do to breathe, let alone talk.
"I think you should let her go." The new voice was familiar, but horribly out of place.
His head flew up and he stared past me. Something feral rumbled in his throat and I was even more frightened than I had been before, if that was possible.
"Back off." A second voice, with a gentle twang to it. Again, I was sure I'd heard it before.
"I saw her first," my captor sneered. "She's mine." He sounded so sure of himself that my heart sank. Was I going to die? It would kill Charlie if anything happened to me.
"Get lost," a third person ordered. His voice was lower, scarier sounding than the other two. The arms around me stiffened. "This is our land."
"Says who?" He sounded a little less certain of himself. I didn't dare hope.
"Says us," the first one spoke, and—impossible, it couldn't be—I recognized the voice of my Biology partner. Edward Cullen had come to my rescue again. "Now, drop her and get out before we take you apart."
Wait, what?! Sure, he could move quickly and he kept his head in a crisis, but threatening to take someone apart?!
"Hey, whoa," my captor began placating, and how could he be scared of a teenage boy? Well, three teenage boys—it was probably Jasper and Emmett with Edward. I hadn't seen him with any other friends. "I'm just hungry. Let me have this one and I'll be out of here in no time. How far does your territory go north?"
"No exceptions," Emmett (at least, it wasn't Edward and it wasn't Jasper) growled. "If you aren't out of the state by morning, we'll hunt you down."
"It's just one girl," he wheedled, turning sly. "You can't eat everyone in this state by yourselves."
"I'm not going to tell you again." Emmett's voice was soft, but no less scary. "Get lost, or else."
I was abruptly shoved forward. I fell to my hands and knees, sucking air through my battered throat. Behind me I could hear heavy steps racing away, back the direction we had come.
What the hell?