Author's Note: Good GOD it's been too long! I won't hold you up with excuses—see me after the chapter if you want updates.


- Chapter 17: To Mantua -

I could have cried for hours, had it not been for the ghost of Edward's voice in my head.

"Don't linger long."

The memory of his one request of me was so clear that he might have been murmuring right in my ear. I could almost feel his cool breath on my skin, his fingers in my hair.

It was enough to motivate me to force that wall up in my mind, carefully fencing in the beast of mourning—for now, at least.

Though my breathing was still choppy and my hands trembled, I sat up with great effort and wiped away my tears.

As my vision cleared, the books on the floor caught my eye. The slim volume of Romeo and Juliet had landed on top, the corner of an old, much-folded piece of paper peeking out of the pages—undoubtedly indicating the passage Edward had intended me to read.

The flames of fury that had led me to scatter the book without reading it were gone now, doused by my tears. Now I merely longed to read the loving words I was sure he had selected for me.

I clamored unsteadily off the bed and knelt on the plush rug, heedless of my nudity.

Reverently, I turned to the marked page.

And blinked in surprise when I saw it was not a scene between the lovers at all, but rather Friar Lawrence, Romeo, and the Nurse.

My eyes shot to the lines he had marked—part of a monologue by the Friar, reprimanding the despondent Romeo for his hopelessness after learning he was to be banished from Verona and separated from his love.

But look thou stay not till the watch be set,
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua,
Where thou shalt live till we can find a time
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
Beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee back
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.

For a fraction of a second, I felt the stab of disappointment. I had anticipated some romantic speech, some parting words to hold as a talisman in my heart.

But then with a sharp intake of breath, I realized just what the words meant.

It was not a declaration of love. It was a plan.

"Pass to Mantua," I recited in a whisper, running a finger over the words as I read them. But where was Mantua? Did he mean for me to follow them?

I read the passage again, slowly. Where thou shalt live till we can find a time to blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, beg pardon of the Prince, and call thee back…—no, he intended me to go somewhere else, not to follow him to Canada. Otherwise there would be no need to call me back.

I felt my heart speed up at the promise of what might happen if Edward did call me back from wherever he intended me to go. Blaze your marriage—surely that could only mean for us to be together again. And beg pardon of the Prince I hoped indicated he had some plan to handle the Volturi.

But before I could lose myself in the dream of twenty hundred thousand times more joy, I had to discover where I would go forth in lamentation.

Something niggled in my brain—how did Adelphus fit into all this? Was there more to the devil Edward had noted than I had originally understood?

I flipped back to the page to look at the line again.

Lupus in fabulaspeak of the devil

The translation seemed off, I realized. Shouldn't the Latin for devil be closer to diablo or diavolo, like in Spanish or Italian?

And then it hit me.

Lupus.

Wolf.

"Jacob!" I gasped.

Outside the window, a sudden howl echoed from the forest.

- o - o - o -

I dressed quickly, gathering the clothes strewn about the room from the night before. I was just pulling up my stockings when a knock came from the door.

"Hey, Bella!" a familiar muffled voice came from the other side. "You decent?"

The flush that had risen in my cheeks burned even more as I pulled the door open to reveal a shirtless Jacob, grinning at me in the hall.

"You called?" he said cheekily.

I spun around, mortified and sputtering.

"Wh—what—why aren't you dressed?!"

He laughed. "I thought you woulda figured it out by now," he teased. "Find me a shirt and I'll put it on if it makes you so uncomfortable."

"In the chest, I think," I said, waving a hand at the drawers on the side. I could hear the creaking protest of the wood as Jacob searched through the offerings.

"Better?"

I risked a glance; he wore a plaid shirt I'd never seen on Edward before, and I felt myself relax.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I told you, you called me."

Jacob leaned his back against the wall, crossing his arms casually.

"Is your hearing so good you caught me saying your name from La Push?" It was a weak joke, but it pulled up Jacob's lazy grin.

"No, I was just out in the woods," he said. "Didn't that bloodsucker of yours tell you anything?"

I flinched, and Jacob's expression faltered.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and I saw the young boy still in him.

"That's all right," I replied faintly.

"It's just, he asked me to let you sleep in," Jacob explained. "He said you'd call for me when you were ready to go."

I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, my overloaded mind trying to keep up with all I'd been through since I woke.

"What else did he say?" I asked, my voice just above a whisper.

Jacob's wide smile had dimmed, and he looked concerned. Hesitantly, he sat beside me, the mattress dipping under his considerable bulk.

"Just that he needed to go away for a while," he said gently. "He asked if the Pack would take you in, keep an eye on you while he was away."

"The Pack?"

I could feel Jacob's eyes on me, searching.

"Shit," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "Scuse my French. I just…ugh. I figured you'd know all about it. Didn't you read that book you borrowed?"

A faint smile tugged at my lips, despite myself. I could tell my still-new friend was a bit out of his element.

"I did," I said.

"So you know…what we are?"

I nodded.

"Well, it's not just me. There's a bunch of us down on the rez. I only just turned."

"How many?" I asked.

"Well, there's Sam," he began, raising fingers as he said each name, "he was the first this go-round. He's the Pack leader. And then Jared, Paul, and Embry. Then it was me, and I bet Quil will probably be next."

"And Edward…?"

Jacob snickered. "Came down to the treaty line yesterday wanting to talk. I thought Sam was gonna blow a gasket. But my dad told him we should hear the leech out."

"So I'm to stay with you." I wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question.

Jacob's hand fluttered in the vicinity of my forearm for a moment, but ultimately he seemed to think better of touching me. "It's not as swank as this place," he said awkwardly, "but Sam and his wife Emily have an extra bedroom for you, and I thought…well…"

I turned to look at him; his high cheekbones were touched with dusky rose, and he rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Emily tutors some of the younger kids, and I wondered...I was hoping you might want to help," he said finally. "The Pack's been building a schoolhouse, and we're trying to get everything together before the fall. So if you're up for it..."

I blinked at him—with all the turmoil of the last week, I had entirely forgotten about our conversation at the beach.

"Of course, you don't have to," Jacob continued in a rush. "I just—since you aren't—it might, you know…"

I took his hand in mine and squeezed tightly, sending him a small smile, tremulous as it was. "I'd be honored to help however I can," I said, and I meant it.

Jacob returned my smile tentatively, and for the first time that morning, I felt a glimmer of hope.


Author's Note: Ok, I feel terrible giving you something so short after what, 2? 3 months? But I wanted to let you all know that YES I am still working on this story and it WILL be finished! I've had to slow down significantly due to work and life commitments but I AM plugging away. I'm hoping to get back into at least an every other week update schedule but don't hold me to it.

I have the entire end mapped out and a skeleton draft written. It should be 6 more chapters plus an epilogue, maybe 7 if I end up having to split the next chapter in two.

Footnotes:

The earliest known use of "blow a gasket" as a figurative term was in 1913.