Mike became an unreliable viewpoint from then on. He found, as he turned the idea of Jessica around in his head, that he rather liked the thought of her finding him attractive. It was second place, not as good as if Bella had felt that way.
She’s cute, though, I guess. Decent body—bigger boobs than Bella’s. A bird in the hand…
He was off then, on to new fantasies that were just as vulgar as the ones about Bella, but now they only irritated rather than infuriated. How little he deserved either girl; they were almost interchangeable to him. I stayed clear of his head after that.
When Bella was out of sight, I curled up against the cool trunk of an enormous madrone tree and danced from mind to mind, keeping her in view, always glad when Angela Weber was available to look through. I wished there were some way to thank the Weber girl for simply being a nice person. It made me feel better to think that Bella had one friend worth having.
I watched Bella’s face from whichever angle I was given, and I could see that she was upset about something. This surprised me—I thought the sun would be enough to keep her smiling. At lunch, I saw her glance time and time again toward the empty Cullen table, and that thrilled me. Perhaps she missed me, too.
After school, she had plans to go out with the other girls—I automatically planned my own surveillance—but these were postponed when Mike invited Jessica out on the date he’d designed for Bella.
So I went straight to her home instead, doing a quick sweep of the woods to make sure no one dangerous had wandered too close. I knew Jasper had warned his one-time brother to avoid the town—citing my insanity as both explanation and danger—but I wasn’t taking any chances. Peter and Charlotte had no intention of causing animosity with my family, but intentions were changeable things.
All right, I was overdoing it. I knew that.
As if she was aware I was watching, as if she took pity on the agony I felt when I couldn’t see her, Bella came out to the backyard after a long hour indoors. She had a book in her hand and a blanket under her arm.
Silently, I climbed into the higher branches of the closest tree overlooking the yard.
She spread the blanket on the damp grass and then lay on her stomach and started flipping through the worn, obviously often-read book, trying to find her place. I read over her shoulder.
Ah—more classics. Sense and Sensibility. She was an Austen fan.
I tasted the way the sunshine and open air affected her scent. The heat seemed to sweeten the smell. My throat flamed with desire, the pain fresh and fierce again because I had been away from her for so long. I spent a moment controlling that, forcing myself to breathe through my nose.
She read quickly, crossing and recrossing her ankles in the air. I knew the book, so I did not read along with her. Instead, I was watching the sunlight and wind playing in her hair when her body suddenly stiffened, and her hand froze on the page. She’d reached the last page of chapter two. The page began midsentence: “perhaps, in spite of every consideration of politeness or maternal affection on the side of the former, the two ladies might have found it impossible to have lived together so long—”
She grabbed a thick section of the book and shoved it roughly over, almost as if something on the page had angered her. But what? It was early in the story, just setting up the first conflict between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. The main hero, Edward Ferrars, was introduced. Elinor Dashwood’s merits were extolled. I thought through the previous chapter, searching for something potentially offensive in Austen’s overly polite prose. What could have upset her?
She stopped on the title page for Mansfield Park. Beginning a new story—the book was a compilation of novels.
But she’d only made it to page seven—I was following along this time; Mrs. Norris was detailing the danger of Tom and Edmund Bertram not encountering their cousin Fanny Price until they were all adults—when Bella’s teeth ground together and she slammed the book shut.
Taking a deep breath as if to calm herself, she tossed the book aside and rolled onto her back. She pushed her sleeves up her forearms, exposing more of her skin to the sun.
Why would she have reacted thus to what was obviously a familiar story? Another mystery. I sighed.
She lay very still now, moving just once to yank her hair away from her face. It fanned out over her head, a river of chestnut. And then she was motionless again.
She made a very serene picture, there in the sunlight. Whatever peace had evaded her before seemed to find her now. Her breathing slowed. After several long minutes her lips began to tremble. Mumbling in her sleep.
I felt an uncomfortable spasm of guilt. Because what I was doing now was not precisely good, but it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as my nightly pursuits. I wasn’t technically even trespassing now—the base of this tree grew from the next lot over—let alone doing something more felonious. But I knew that when night came, I would continue to do wrong.
Even now, part of me wanted to trespass. To jump to the ground, landing silently on my toes, and ease into her circle of sunshine. Just to be closer to her. To hear her murmured words as though she was whispering them to me.
It wasn’t my unreliable morality that held me back—it was the thought of myself in the sun’s glare. Bad enough that my skin was stone and inhuman in shadow; I didn’t want to look at Bella and myself side by side in the sunlight. The difference between us was already insurmountable, painful enough without that image also in my head. Could I be any more grotesque? I imagined her terror if she opened her eyes and saw me there beside her.
“Mmm…,” she moaned.
I leaned back against the tree trunk, deeper into shadow.
She sighed. “Mmm.”
I did not fear that she had woken. Her voice was just a low, wistful murmur.
“Edmund. Ahh.”
Edmund? I thought again of where she’d quit reading. Just as Edmund Bertram had been named for the first time.
Ha! She wasn’t dreaming of me at all, I realized blackly. The self-loathing returned in force. She was dreaming of fictional characters. Perhaps that had always been the case, and all along her dreams had been filled with Hugh Grant in a cravat. So much for my conceit.
She said nothing more that was intelligible. The afternoon passed and I watched, feeling helpless again, as the sun slowly sank in the sky and the shadows crawled across the lawn toward her. I wanted to push them back, but of course the darkness was inevitable; the shadows took her. When the light was gone, her skin looked too pale—ghostly. Her hair was dark again, almost black against her face.
It was a frightening thing to watch—like witnessing Alice’s visions come to fruition. Bella’s steady, strong heartbeat was the only reassurance, the sound that kept this moment from feeling like a nightmare.
I was relieved when her father arrived home.
I could hear little from him as he drove down the street toward the house. Some vague annoyance… in the past, something from his day at work. Expectation mixed with hunger—I guessed that he was looking forward to dinner. But his thoughts were so quiet and contained that I could not be sure I was right. I only got the gist of them.
I wondered what her mother sounded like—what the genetic combination had been that had formed her so uniquely.
Bella started awake, jerking up to a sitting position when the tires of her father’s car hit the brick driveway. She stared around herself, seeming confused by the unexpected darkness. For one brief moment, her eyes touched the shadows where I hid, but then flickered quickly away.
“Charlie?” she asked in a low voice, still peering into the trees surrounding the small yard.
The door of his car slammed shut, and she looked to the sound. She got to her feet quickly and gathered her things, casting one more look back toward the woods.
I moved into a tree closer to the back window near the small kitchen, and listened to their evening. It was interesting to compare Charlie’s words to his muffled thoughts. His love and concern for his only child were nearly overwhelming, and yet his words were always terse and casual. Most of the time, they sat in companionable silence.
I heard her discuss her plans to go shopping the following evening in Port Angeles with Jessica and Angela, and I refined my own plans as I listened. Jasper had not warned Peter and Charlotte to stay clear of Port Angeles. Though I knew that they had fed recently and had no intention of hunting anywhere in the vicinity of our home, I would watch her, just in case. After all, there were always others of my kind out there. And, of course, all those human dangers that I had never much considered before now.
I heard her worry aloud about leaving her father to prepare dinner alone, and smiled at this proof to my theory—yes, she was the caretaker here, too.
And then I left, knowing I would return while she was asleep, ignoring every ethical and moral argument against my behavior.
But I certainly would not trespass on her privacy the way the peeping tom would have. I was here for her protection, not to leer at her in the way Mike Newton no doubt would, were he agile enough to move through the treetops. I would not treat her so crassly.
My house was empty when I returned, which was fine by me. I didn’t miss the confused or disparaging thoughts, questioning my sanity. Emmett had left a note stuck to the newel post.
Football at the Rainier field—c’mon! Please?
I found a pen and scrawled the word sorry beneath his plea. The teams were even without me, in any case.
I went for the shortest of hunting trips, contenting myself with the smaller, gentler creatures that did not taste as good as the other predators, and then changed into fresh clothes before I ran back to Forks.
Bella did not sleep as well tonight. She thrashed in her blankets, her face sometimes worried, sometimes forlorn. I wondered what nightmare haunted her… and then realized that perhaps I didn’t really want to know.
When she spoke, she mostly muttered derogatory things about Forks in a glum voice. Only once, when she sighed out the words “Come back” and her hand twitched open—a wordless plea—did I have a chance to hope she might be dreaming of me.
The next day of school, the last day the sun would hold me prisoner, was much the same as the day before. Bella seemed even gloomier than yesterday, and I wondered if she would bow out of her plans—she didn’t seem in the mood. But, being Bella, she would probably put her friends’ enjoyment above her own.
She wore a deep blue blouse today, and the color set her skin off perfectly, making it look like fresh cream.
School ended, and Jessica agreed to pick the other girls up.
I went home to get my car. When I found that Peter and Charlotte were there, I decided I could afford to give the girls an hour or so as a head start. It would have been a struggle to follow them, driving at the speed limit—hideous thought.
Everyone was gathered in the bright great room. Peter and Charlotte both noticed my abstraction as I belatedly welcomed them, apologizing halfheartedly for my absence, kissing her cheek and shaking his hand. I was unable to concentrate enough to join the group conversation. As soon I as could politely extricate myself, I drifted to the piano and began playing quietly.
What a strange creature, the Alice-sized, white-blond Charlotte was thinking. And he was so normal and pleasant the last time we met.
Peter’s thoughts were in sync with hers, as was usually the case.
It must be the animals. The lack of human blood drives them mad eventually, he was concluding. His hair was just as fair as hers, and almost as long. They were very similar—except for size, as he was nearly as tall as Emmett. A well-matched pair, I’d always thought.
Why even bother coming home?Rosalie sneered.
Ah, Edward. I hate to see him suffering so. Esme’s joy was becoming corrupted by her concern. She should be concerned. This love story she envisioned for me was careening toward tragedy more perceptibly every moment.
Have fun in Port Angeles tonight, Alice thought cheerfully. Let me know when I’m allowed to talk to Bella.
You’re pathetic. I can’t believe you missed the game last night just to watch somebody sleep, Emmett grumbled.
Everyone but Esme stopped thinking about me after a moment, and I kept my playing subdued so that I would not attract notice.
I did not pay attention to them for a long while, just letting the music distract me from my unease. It was never not distressing to have the girl out of sight. I only returned my focus to their conversation when the goodbyes grew more final.
“If you see Maria again,” Jasper was saying, a little warily, “tell her I wish her well.”
Maria was the vampire who had created both Jasper and Peter—Jasper in the latter half of the nineteenth century, Peter more recently, in the nineteen forties. She’d looked Jasper up once when we were in Calgary. It had been an eventful visit—we’d had to move immediately. Jasper had politely asked her to keep her distance in the future.
“I don’t imagine we’ll cross paths soon,” Peter said with a laugh—Maria was undeniably dangerous and there was not much love lost between her and Peter. Peter had, after all, been instrumental in Jasper’s defection. Jasper had always been Maria’s favorite; she considered it a minor detail that she had once planned to kill him. “But, should it happen, I certainly will.”
They were shaking hands then, preparing to depart. I let the song I was playing trail off to an unsatisfying end and got hastily to my feet.
“Charlotte, Peter,” I said, nodding.
“It was nice to see you again, Edward,” Charlotte said doubtfully. Peter just nodded in return.
Madman, Emmett threw after me.
Idiot, Rosalie thought at the same time.
Poor boy.Esme.
And Alice, in a chiding tone. They’re going straight east, to Seattle. Nowhere near Port Angeles. She showed me the proof in her visions.
I pretended I hadn’t heard that. My excuses were already flimsy enough.
Once in my car, I felt more relaxed. The robust purr of the engine Rosalie had boosted for me—last year, when she was in a better mood—was soothing. It was a relief to be in motion, to know that I was getting closer to Bella with every mile that flew away under my tires.
9. PORT ANGELES
IT WAS TOO BRIGHT FOR ME TO DRIVE INTO TOWN WHEN I GOT TO PORT ANGELES. The sun was still high overhead, and though my windows were tinted dark enough to provide some protection, there was no reason to take unnecessary risks. More unnecessary risks, I should say.
How condescendingly I’d once judged Emmett for his thoughtless ways and Jasper for his lack of discipline—and now I was consciously flouting all the rules with a wild abandon that made their lapses look like nothing at all. I used to be the responsible one.
I sighed.
I was certain I would be able to find Jessica’s thoughts from a distance—hers were louder than Angela’s, but once I found the first, I’d be able to hear the second. Then, when the shadows lengthened, I could get closer. Just outside the town, I pulled off the road onto an overgrown driveway that appeared to be infrequently used.
I knew the general direction to search in—there were not many places to shop for dresses in Port Angeles. It wasn’t long before I found Jessica, spinning in front of a three-way mirror, and I could see Bella in her peripheral vision, appraising the long black dress she wore.
Bella still looks pissed. Ha ha. Angela was right—Tyler was full of it. I can’t believe she’s so upset about it, though. At least she knows she has a backup date for the prom. What if Mike doesn’t have fun at the dance and doesn’t ask me out again? What if he asks Bella to the prom? Does he think she’s prettier than me? Doesshe think she’s prettier than me?
“I think I like the blue one better. It really brings out your eyes.”
Jessica smiled at Bella with false warmth while eyeing her suspiciously.
Does she really think that? Or does she want me to look like a cow on Saturday?
I was already tired of listening to Jessica. I searched close by for Angela—ah, but Angela was in the process of changing dresses, and I skipped quickly out of her head to give her some privacy.
Well, there wasn’t much trouble Bella could get into in a department store. I’d let them shop and then catch up with them when they were done. It wouldn’t be long until dark—the clouds were beginning to return, drifting in from the west. I could only catch glimpses of them through the thick trees, but I could see how they would hurry the sunset. I welcomed them, craved them more than I had ever yearned for their shadows before. Tomorrow I could sit beside Bella in school again, monopolize her attention at lunch. I could ask her all the questions I’d been saving up.
So she was furious about Tyler’s presumption. I’d seen that in his head—that he’d meant it literally when he’d spoken of the prom, that he was staking a claim. I pictured her expression from that other afternoon—the outraged disbelief—and laughed. I wondered what she would say to him about this. Or perhaps she was more likely to pretend ignorance, to bluff and hope it would put him off? It would be interesting to see.
The time went slowly while I waited for the shadows to lengthen. I checked in periodically with Jessica; her mental voice was the easiest to find, but I didn’t like to linger there long. I saw the place they were planning to eat. It would be dark by dinnertime… maybe I would coincidentally choose the same restaurant. I touched the phone in my pocket, thinking of inviting Alice out to join me. She would love that, but she would also want to talk to Bella. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to have Bella more involved with my world. Wasn’t one vampire trouble enough?
I checked in routinely with Jessica again. She was thinking about her jewelry, asking Angela’s opinion.
“Maybe I should take the necklace back. I’ve got one at home that would probably work, and I spent more than I was supposed to.” My mom is going to freak out. What was I thinking?
“I don’t mind going back to the store. Do you think Bella will be looking for us, though?”
What was this? Bella wasn’t with them? I stared through Jessica’s eyes first, then switched to Angela’s. They were on the sidewalk in front of a line of shops, just turning back the other way. Bella was nowhere in sight.
Oh, who cares about Bella?Jess thought impatiently, before answering Angela’s question. “She’s fine. We’ll get to the restaurant in plenty of time, even if we go back. Anyway, I think she wanted to be alone.” I got a brief glimpse of the bookshop Jessica thought Bella had gone to.
“Let’s hurry, then,” Angela said. I hope Bella doesn’t think we ditched her. She was so nice to me in the car before. But she’s seemed kind of blue all day. I wonder if it’s because of Edward Cullen? I’ll bet that was why she was asking about his family.
I should have been paying better attention. What had I missed here? Bella was off wandering by herself, and she’d been asking about me? Angela was paying attention to Jessica now—Jessica was babbling about that imbecile Mike—and I could get nothing more from her.
I judged the shadows. The sun would be behind the clouds soon enough. If I stayed on the west side of the road, where the buildings would shade the street from the fading light…
I started to feel anxious as I drove through the sparse traffic into the center of town. This wasn’t something I had considered—Bella setting off on her own—and I had no idea how to find her. I should have considered it.
I knew Port Angeles well. I drove straight to the bookstore in Jessica’s head, hoping my search would be short, but doubting it would be so easy. When did Bella ever make it easy?
Sure enough, the little shop was empty except for the anachronistically dressed woman behind the counter. This didn’t look like the kind of place Bella would find interesting—too new age for a practical person. I wondered if she’d even bothered to go inside.
There was a patch of shade I could park in. It made a dark pathway right up to the awning of the shop. I really shouldn’t. Wandering around in the sunlit hours was not safe. What if a passing car threw the sun’s reflection on me at just the wrong moment?
But I didn’t know how else to look for Bella!
I parked and got out, keeping to the side of deepest shadow. I strode quickly into the store, noting the faint trace of Bella’s scent in the air. She had been here, on the sidewalk, but there was no hint of her fragrance inside the shop.
“Welcome! Can I help—?” the saleswoman began to say, but I was already out the door.
I followed Bella’s scent as far as the shade would allow, stopping when I got to the edge of the sunlight.
How powerless it made me feel—fenced in by the line between dark and light that stretched across the sidewalk in front of me.
I could only guess that she’d continued across the street, heading south. There wasn’t really much in that direction. Was she lost? Well, that possibility didn’t sound entirely out of character.
I got back in the car and drove slowly through the streets, looking for her. I stepped out into a few other patches of shadow, but only caught her scent once more, and the direction of it confused me. Where was she trying to go?
I drove back and forth between the bookstore and the restaurant a few times, hoping to see her on her way. Jessica and Angela were already there, trying to decide whether to order or to wait for Bella. Jessica was pushing for ordering immediately.
I began flitting through the minds of strangers, looking through their eyes. Surely, someone must have seen her somewhere.
I got more and more anxious the longer she remained missing. I’d not considered before how difficult she might prove to find once, like now, she was out of my sight and off her normal paths.
The clouds were massing on the horizon, and in a few more minutes, I would be free to track her on foot. It wouldn’t take me long then. It was only the sun that made me so helpless now. Just a few more minutes, and then the advantage would be mine again and it would be the human world that was powerless.
Another mind, and another. So many trivial thoughts.
… think the baby has another ear infection…
Was it six-four-oh or six-oh-four…?
Late again. I ought to tell him.…
Aha! Here she comes!
There, at last, was her face. Finally, someone had noticed her!
The relief lasted for only a fraction of a second, and then I read more fully the thoughts of the man who was gloating over her face where she hesitated in the shadows.
His mind was a stranger to me, and yet, not totally unfamiliar. I had once hunted exactly such minds.
“NO!” I roared, and a volley of snarls erupted from my throat. My foot shoved the gas pedal to the floor, but where was I going?
I knew the general direction his thoughts came from, but the location was not specific enough. Something, there had to be something—a street sign, a storefront, something in his sightline that would give him away. But Bella was deep in shadow, and his eyes were focused only on her frightened expression—enjoying the fear there.
Her face was blurred in his mind by the memory of other faces. Bella was not his first victim.
The sound of my growls shook the frame of the car but did not distract me.
There were no windows in the wall behind her. Somewhere industrial, away from the more populated shopping district. My car squealed around a corner, swerving past another vehicle, heading in what I hoped was the right direction. By the time the other driver honked, the sound was far behind me.
Look at her shaking!The man chuckled in anticipation. The fear was the draw for him—the part he enjoyed.
“Stay away from me.”Her voice was low and steady, not a scream.
“Don’t be like that, sugar.”
He watched her flinch at a rowdy laugh that came from another direction. He was irritated with the noise—Shut up, Jeff! he thought—but he enjoyed the way she cringed. It excited him. He began to imagine her pleas, the way she would beg.…
I hadn’t realized that there were others with him until I’d heard the loud laughter. I scanned out from him, desperate for something that I could use. He was taking the first step in her direction, flexing his hands.
The minds around him were not the cesspool that his was. They were all slightly intoxicated, not one of them realizing how far the man they called Lanny planned to go with this. They were blindly following Lanny’s lead. He’d promised them a little fun.…
One of them glanced down the street, nervous—he didn’t want to get caught harassing the girl—and gave me what I needed. I recognized the cross street he stared toward.
I flew under a red light, sliding through a space just wide enough between two cars in the moving traffic. Horns blared behind me.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it.
Lanny moved slowly toward the girl, drawing out the suspense—the moment of terror that aroused him. He waited for her scream, preparing to savor it.
But Bella locked her jaw and braced herself. He was surprised—he’d expected her to try to run. Surprised and slightly disappointed. He liked to chase his prey down, feel the adrenaline of the hunt.
Brave, this one. Maybe better, I guess—more fight in her.
I was a block away. The fiend could hear the roar of my engine now, but he paid it no attention, too intent on his victim.
I would see how he enjoyed the hunt when he was the prey. I would see what he thought of my style of hunting.
In another compartment of my head, I was already sorting through the horrors I’d borne witness to in my vigilante days, searching for the most painful of them. I had never tortured my prey, no matter how much they had deserved it, but this man was different. He would suffer for this. He would writhe in agony. The others would merely die for their part, but this creature named Lanny would beg for death long before I would give him that gift.
He was in the road, crossing toward her.
I spun sharply around the corner, my headlights washing across the scene and freezing the rest of them in place. I could have run down the leader, who leaped out of the way, but that was too easy a death for him.
I let the car spin out, swinging all the way around so that I was facing back the way I’d come and the passenger door was closest to Bella. I threw that open, and she was already running toward the car.
“Get in,” I snarled.
What the hell?
Knew this was a bad idea! She’s not alone.
Should I run?
Think I’m going to throw up.…
Bella jumped through the open door without hesitating, pulling it shut behind her.
And then she looked up at me with the most trusting expression I had ever seen on a human face, and all my violent plans crumbled.
It took much, much less than a second for me to see that I could not leave her in the car in order to deal with the four men in the street. What would I tell her, not to watch? Ha! When did she ever do what I asked?
Would I drag them away, out of her sight, and leave her alone here? It was a long shot that another psychopath would be prowling the streets of Port Angeles tonight, but it was a long shot that there was even a first! Here was proof positive that I was not insane—like a magnet, she drew all things dangerous toward herself. If I were not close enough to provide it, some other evil would take my place.
It would feel like part of the same motion to her as I accelerated, taking her away from her pursuers so quickly that they gaped after my car with uncomprehending expressions. She would not recognize my instant of hesitation.
I couldn’t even hit him with my car. That would frighten her.
I wanted his death so savagely that the need for it rang in my ears, clouded my sight, and was a bitter flavor on my tongue, stronger than the burn of my thirst. My muscles were coiled with the urgency, the craving, the necessity of it. I had to kill him. I would peel him slowly apart, piece by piece, skin from muscle, muscle from bone.…
Except that the girl—the only girl in the world—was clinging to her seat with both hands, staring at me, her eyes strangely calm and unquestioning. Vengeance would have to wait.
“Put on your seat belt,” I ordered. My voice was rough with the hate and bloodlust. Not the usual bloodlust. I had long been committed to abstaining from human blood, and I would not let this creature change that. This would be retribution only.
She locked the seat belt into place, jumping slightly at the sound it made. That little noise made her jump, yet she did not flinch as I tore through the town, ignoring all traffic guides. I could feel her eyes on me. She seemed oddly relaxed. It didn’t make sense—not with what had just happened to her.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice rough with stress and fear.
Shewanted to know if I was okay?
WasI okay?
“No,” I realized, and my tone seethed with rage.
I took her to the same unused drive where I’d spent the afternoon engaged in the poorest surveillance ever kept. It was black now under the trees.
I was so furious that my body froze in place there, utterly motionless. My ice-locked hands ached to crush her attacker, to grind him into pieces so mangled that his body could never be identified.
But that would entail leaving her here alone, unprotected in the dark night.
My mind was replaying scenes from my hunting days, images I wished I could forget. Especially now, with the urge to kill so much stronger than any hunting compulsion I’d ever felt before.
This man, this abomination, was not the worst of his kind, though it was difficult to sort the depths of evil into a merit-based order. Still, I remembered the very worst. There had never been any question that he deserved that title.
Most of the men I’d hunted back in my days of acting as judge, jury, and executioner had felt some level of remorse, or at least fear of being caught. Many of them turned to alcohol or drugs to silence their worries. Others compartmentalized, created fractures in their personalities and lived as two men, one for the light and one for the dark.
But for the worst, the vilest aberration I’d ever encountered, remorse was not an issue.
I’d never found anyone who embraced his own evil so thoroughly—who enjoyed it. He was utterly delighted by the world he’d created, a world of helpless victims and their tortured screams. Pain was the object of all his pursuits, and he’d gotten very good at creating it, at prolonging it.
I was committed to my rules, to my justification for all the blood I claimed. But in this instance, I wavered. To let this particular man die swiftly seemed far too easy an escape for him.
It was the closest I ever came to crossing that line. Still, I killed him as quickly and efficiently as I killed all the rest.
It might have gone differently if two of his victims had not been in that basement of horrors when I discovered him. Two young women, already badly injured. Though I carried them both to a hospital at the greatest speed I was capable of, only one survived.
I hadn’t had time to drink his blood. That didn’t matter. There were so many others who deserved to die.
Like this Lanny. He was an atrocity, too, but surely not worse than the one I’d remembered. Why did it feel right then, imperative, that he suffer so much more?
But first—
“Bella?” I asked through my teeth.
“Yes?” she responded huskily. She cleared her throat.
“Are you all right?” That was really the most important thing, the first priority. Retribution was secondary. I knew that, but my body was so filled with rage that it was hard to think.
“Yes.” Her voice was still thick—with fear, no doubt.
And so I could not leave her.
Even if she wasn’t at constant risk for some infuriating reason—some joke the universe was playing on me—even if I could be sure that she would be perfectly safe in my absence, I could not leave her alone in the dark.
She must be so frightened.
Yet I was in no condition to comfort her—even if I knew exactly how that was to be accomplished, which I did not. Surely she could feel the brutality radiating out of me, surely that much was obvious. I would frighten her even more if I could not calm the lust for slaughter boiling inside me.
I needed to think about something else.
“Distract me, please,” I pleaded.
“I’m sorry, what?”
I barely had enough control to try to explain what I needed.
“Just…” I couldn’t think of how to express it. I picked the closest word I could think of. “Prattle about something unimportant until I calm down.” It was a poor word choice, I realized as soon as it was out, but I couldn’t find much room to care. Only the fact that she needed me held me inside the car. I could hear the man’s thoughts, his disappointment and anger. I knew where to find him. I closed my eyes, wishing that I couldn’t see anyway.
“Um…” She hesitated—trying to make sense of my request, I imagined, or perhaps offended?—then she continued. “I’m going to run over Tyler Crowley tomorrow before school?” She said this like it was a question.
Yes—this was what I needed. Of course Bella would come up with something unexpected. As it had been before, the threat of violence coming through her lips was jarring, comical. If I had not been burning with the urge to kill, I would have laughed.
“Why?” I barked out, to force her to speak again.
“He’s telling everyone that he’s taking me to prom,” she said, her voice filled with outrage. “Either he’s insane or he’s still trying to make up for almost killing me last… well you remember it,” she inserted dryly. “And he thinks prom is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I endanger his life, then we’re even, and he can’t keep trying to make amends. I don’t need enemies and maybe Lauren would back off if he left me alone. I might have to total his Sentra, though,” she went on, thoughtful now. “If he doesn’t have a ride, he can’t take anyone to prom.…”
It was encouraging to see that she sometimes got things wrong. Tyler’s persistence had nothing to do with the accident. She didn’t seem to understand the appeal she held for the human boys at the high school. Did she not see the appeal she had for me, either?
Ah, it was working. The baffling processes of her mind were always engrossing. I was beginning to gain control of myself, to see something beyond vengeance and slaughter.
“I heard about that,” I told her. She had stopped talking, and I needed her to continue.
“You did?” she asked incredulously. And then her voice was angrier than before. “If he’s paralyzed from the neck down, he can’t go to the prom, either.”
I wished there was some way I could ask her to continue with the threats of death and bodily harm without sounding insane. She couldn’t have picked a better way to calm me. And her words—just sarcasm in her case, hyperbole—were a reminder I dearly needed in this moment.
I sighed, and opened my eyes.
“Better?” she asked timidly.
“Not really.”