IT HAD TAKEN MUCH LESS TIME THAN I'D THOUGHT—ALL THE TERROR, the despair, the shattering of my heart. The minutes were ticking by more slowly than usual. Jasper still hadn't come back when I returned to Alice. I was afraid to be in the same room with her, afraid that she would guess… and afraid to hide from her for the same reason.
I would have thought I was far beyond the ability to be surprised, my thoughts tortured and unstable, but I was surprised when I saw Alice bent over the desk, gripping the edge with two hands.
"Alice?"
She didn't react when I called her name, but her head was slowly rocking side to side, and I saw her face. Her eyes were blank, dazed.… My thoughts flew to my mother. Was I already too late?
I hurried to her side, reaching out automatically to touch her hand.
"Alice!" Jasper's voice whipped, and then he was right behind her, his hands curling over Alice's, loosening them from their grip on the table. Across the room, the door swung shut with a low click.
"What is it?" Jasper demanded.
Alice turned her face away from me, into Jasper's chest. "Beau," she said.
"I'm right here," I replied.
Her head twisted around, her eyes locking on mine, their expression still strangely blank. I realized at once that she hadn't been speaking to me, she'd been answering Jasper's question.
"What did you see?" I said—and there was no question in my flat, uncaring voice.
Jasper looked at me sharply. I kept my expression vacant and waited. His eyes were confused as they flickered swiftly between Alice's face and mine, feeling the chaos… for I could guess what Alice had seen now.
I felt a tranquil atmosphere settle around me. I welcomed it, using it to keep my emotions disciplined, under control.
Alice, too, recovered herself.
"Nothing, really," she answered finally, her voice remarkably calm and convincing. "Just the same room as before."
She finally looked at me, her expression smooth and withdrawn. "Did you want breakfast?"
"No, I'll eat at the airport." I was very calm, too. I went to the bathroom to shower. Almost as if I were borrowing Jasper's strange extra sense, I could feel Alice's wild—though well-concealed—desperation to have me out of the room, to be alone with Jasper. So she could tell him that they were doing something wrong, that they were going to fail.…
I got ready methodically, concentrating on each little task. The peaceful mood Jasper created worked its way through me and helped me think clearly. Helped me plan. I dug through my bag until I found my sock full of money. I emptied it into my pocket.
I was anxious to get to the airport, and glad when we left by seven. I sat alone this time in the back of the dark car. Alice leaned against the door, her face toward Jasper but, behind her sunglasses, shooting glances in my direction every few seconds.
"Alice?" I asked indifferently.
She was wary. "Yes?"
"How does it work? The things that you see?" I stared out the side window, and my voice sounded bored. "Edward said it wasn't definite… that things change?" It was harder than I would have thought to say his name. That must have been what alerted Jasper, why a fresh wave of serenity filled the car.
"Yes, things change…," she murmured—hopefully, I thought. "Some things are more certain than others… like the weather. People are harder. I only see the course they're on while they're on it. Once they change their minds—make a new decision, no matter how small—the whole future shifts."
I nodded thoughtfully. "So you couldn't see James in Phoenix until he decided to come here."
"Yes," she agreed, wary again.
And she hadn't seen me in the mirror room with James until I'd made the decision to meet him there. I tried not to think about what else she might have seen. I didn't want my panic to make Jasper more suspicious. They would be watching me twice as carefully now, anyway, after Alice's vision. This was going to be impossible.
We got to the airport. Luck was with me, or maybe it was just good odds. Edward's plane was landing in terminal four, the largest terminal, where most flights landed—so it wasn't surprising that his was. But it was the terminal I needed: the biggest, the most confusing. And there was a door on level three that might be the only chance.
We parked on the fourth floor of the huge garage. I led the way, for once more knowledgeable about my surroundings than they were. We took the elevator down to level three, where the passengers unloaded. Alice and Jasper spent a long time looking at the departing flights board. I could hear them discussing the pros and cons of New York, Atlanta, Chicago. Places I'd never seen. And would never see.
I waited for my opportunity, impatient, unable to stop my toe from tapping. We sat in the long rows of chairs by the metal detectors, Jasper and Alice pretending to people-watch but really watching me. Every inch I shifted in my seat was followed by a quick glance out of the corner of their eyes. It was hopeless. Should I run? Would they dare to stop me physically in this public place? Or would they simply follow?
I pulled the unmarked envelope out of my pocket and set it on top of Alice's black leather bag. She looked at me.
"My letter," I said. She nodded, tucking it under the top flap. He would find it soon enough.
The minutes passed and Edward's arrival grew closer. It was amazing how every cell in my body seemed to know he was coming, to long for his coming. That made it very hard. I found myself trying to think of excuses to stay, to see him first and then make my escape. But I knew that was impossible if I was going to have any chance to get away.
Several times Alice offered to go get breakfast with me. Later, I told her, not yet.
I stared at the arrival board, watching as flight after flight arrived on time. The flight from Seattle crept closer to the top of the board.
And then, when I had only thirty-five minutes to make my escape, the numbers changed. His plane was ten minutes early. I had no more time.
"I think I'll eat now," I said quickly.
Alice stood. "I'll come with you."
"Do you mind if Jasper comes instead?" I asked. "I'm feeling a little…" I didn't finish the sentence. My eyes were wild enough to convey what I didn't say.
Jasper stood up. Alice's eyes were confused, but—I saw to my relief—not suspicious. She must be attributing the change in her vision to some maneuver of the tracker's rather than a betrayal by me.
Jasper walked silently beside me, his hand on the small of my back, as if he were guiding me. I pretended a lack of interest in the first few airport cafés, my head scanning for what I really wanted. And there it was, around the corner, out of Alice's sharp sight: the level-three men's room.
"Do you mind?" I asked Jasper as we passed.hoping he would stay outside. "I'll just be a moment."
But I got lucky someone ran into the bathroom to take care of a bloody nose.
"I'll be right here," he said.
As soon as the door shut behind me, I was running. I remembered the time I had gotten lost from this bathroom, because it had two exits.
Outside the far door it was only a short sprint to the elevators, and if Jasper stayed where he said he would, I'd never be in his line of sight. I didn't look behind me as I ran. This was my only chance, and even if he saw me, I had to keep going. People stared, but I ignored them. Around the corner the elevators were waiting, and I dashed forward, throwing my hand between the closing doors of a full elevator headed down. I squeezed in beside the irritated passengers, and checked to make sure that the button for level one had been pushed. It was already lit, and the doors closed.
As soon as the door opened I was off again, to the sound of annoyed murmurs behind me. I slowed myself as I passed the security guards by the luggage carousels, only to break into a run again as the exit doors came into view. I had no way of knowing if Jasper was looking for me yet. I would have only seconds if he was following my scent. I jumped out the automatic doors, nearly smacking into the glass when they opened too slowly.
Along the crowded curb there wasn't a cab in sight.
I had no time. Alice and Jasper were either about to realize I was gone, or they already had. They would find me in a heartbeat.
A shuttle to the Hyatt was just closing its doors a few feet behind me.
"Wait!" I called, running, waving at the driver.
"This is the shuttle to the Hyatt," the driver said in confusion as he opened the doors.
"Yes," I huffed, "that's where I'm going." I hurried up the steps.
He looked askance at my luggage-less state, but then shrugged, not caring enough to ask.
Most of the seats were empty. I sat as far from the other travelers as possible, and watched out the window as first the sidewalk, and then the airport, drifted away. I couldn't help imagining Edward, where he would stand at the edge of the road when he found the end of my trail. I couldn't cry yet, I told myself. I still had a long way to go.
My luck held. In front of the Hyatt, a tired-looking couple was getting their last suitcase out of the trunk of a cab. I jumped out of the shuttle and ran to the cab, sliding into the seat behind the driver. The tired couple and the shuttle driver stared at me.
I told the surprised cabbie my mother's address. "I need to get there as soon as possible."
"That's in Scottsdale," he complained.
I threw four twenties over the seat.
"Will that be enough?"
"Sure, kid, no problem."
I sat back against the seat, folding my arms across my lap. The familiar city began to rush around me, but I didn't look out the windows. I exerted myself to maintain control. I was determined not to lose myself at this point, now that my plan was successfully completed. There was no point in indulging in more terror, more anxiety. My path was set. I just had to follow it now.
So, instead of panicking, I closed my eyes and spent the twenty minutes' drive with Edward.
I imagined that I had stayed at the airport to meet Edward. I visualized how I would stand on my toes, the sooner to see his face. How quickly, how gracefully he would move through the crowds of people separating us. And then I would run to close those last few feet between us—reckless as always—and I would be in his marble arms, finally safe.
I wondered where we would have gone. North somewhere, so he could be outside in the day. Or maybe somewhere very remote, so we could lay in the sun together again. I imagined him by the shore, his skin sparkling like the sea. It wouldn't matter how long we had to hide. To be trapped in a hotel room with him would be a kind of heaven. So many questions I still had for him. I could talk to him forever, never sleeping, never leaving his side.
I could see his face so clearly now… almost hear his voice. And, despite all the horror and hopelessness, I was fleetingly happy. So involved was I in my escapist daydreams, I lost all track of the seconds racing by.
"Hey, what was the number?"
The cabbie's question punctured my fantasy, letting all the colors run out of my lovely delusions. Fear, bleak and hard, was waiting to fill the empty space they left behind.
"Fifty-eight twenty-one." My voice sounded strangled. The cabbie looked at me, nervous that I was having an episode or something.
"Here we are, then." He was anxious to get me out of his car, probably hoping I wouldn't ask for my change.
"Thank you," I whispered. There was no need to be afraid, I reminded myself. The house was empty. I had to hurry; my mom was waiting for me, frightened, depending on me.
I ran to the door, reaching up automatically to grab the key under the eave. I unlocked the door. It was dark inside, empty, normal. I ran to the phone, turning on the kitchen light on my way. There, on the whiteboard, was a ten-digit number written in a small, neat hand. My fingers stumbled over the keypad, making mistakes. I had to hang up and start again. I concentrated only on the buttons this time, carefully pressing each one in turn. I was successful. I held the phone to my ear with a shaking hand. It rang only once.
"Hello, Beau," that easy voice answered. "That was very quick. I'm impressed."
"Is my mom all right?"
"She's perfectly fine. Don't worry, Beau, I have no quarrel with her. Unless you didn't come alone, of course." Light, amused.
"I'm alone." I'd never been more alone in my entire life.
"Very good. Now, do you know the ballet studio just around the corner from your home?"
"Yes. I know how to get there."
"Well, then, I'll see you very soon."
I hung up.
I ran from the room, through the door, out into the baking heat.
There was no time to look back at my house, and I didn't want to see it as it was now—empty, a symbol of fear instead of sanctuary. The last person to walk through those familiar rooms was my enemy.
From the corner of my eye, I could almost see my mother standing in the shade of the big eucalyptus tree where I'd played as a child. Or kneeling by the little plot of dirt around the mailbox, the cemetery of all the flowers she'd tried to grow. The memories were better than any reality I would see today. But I raced away from them, toward the corner, leaving everything behind me.
I felt so slow, like I was running through wet sand—I couldn't seem to get enough purchase from the concrete. I tripped several times, once falling, catching myself with my hands, scraping them on the sidewalk, and then lurching up to plunge forward again. But at last I made it to the corner. Just another street now; I ran, sweat pouring down my face, gasping. The sun was hot on my skin, too bright as it bounced off the white concrete and blinded me. I felt dangerously exposed. More fiercely than I would have dreamed I was capable of, I wished for the green, protective forests of Forks… of home.
When I rounded the last corner, onto Cactus, I could see the studio, looking just as I remembered it. The parking lot in front was empty, the vertical blinds in all the windows drawn. I couldn't run anymore—I couldn't breathe; exertion and fear had gotten the best of me. I thought of my mother to keep my feet moving, one in front of the other.
As I got closer, I could see the sign inside the door. It was handwritten on hot pink paper; it said the dance studio was closed for spring break. I touched the handle, tugged on it cautiously. It was unlocked. I fought to catch my breath, and opened the door.
The lobby was dark and empty, cool, the air conditioner thrumming. The plastic molded chairs were stacked along the walls, and the carpet smelled like shampoo. The west dance floor was dark, I could see through the open viewing window. The east dance floor, the bigger room, was lit. But the blinds were closed on the window.
Terror seized me so strongly that I was literally trapped by it. I couldn't make my feet move forward.
And then my mother's voice called.
"Beau? Beau?" That same tone of hysterical panic. I sprinted to the door, to the sound of her voice.
"Beau, you scared me! Don't you ever do that to me again!" Her voice continued as I ran into the long, high-ceilinged room.
I stared around me, trying to find where her voice was coming from. I heard her laugh, and I whirled to the sound.
There she was, on the TV screen, tousling my hair in relief. It was Thanksgiving, and I was twelve. We'd gone to see my grandmother in California, the last year before she died. We went to the beach one day, and I'd leaned too far over the edge of the pier. She'd seen my feet flailing, trying to reclaim my balance. "Beau? Beau?" she'd called to me in fear.
And then the TV screen was blue.
I turned slowly. He was standing very still by the back exit, so still I hadn't noticed him at first. In his hand was a remote control. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then he smiled.
He walked toward me, quite close, and then passed me to put the remote down next to the VCR. I turned carefully to watch him.
"Sorry about that, Beau, but isn't it better that your mother didn't really have to be involved in all this?" His voice was courteous, kind.
And suddenly it hit me. My mother was safe. She was still in Florida. She'd never gotten my message. She'd never been terrified by the dark red eyes in the abnormally pale face before me. She was safe.
"Yes," I answered, my voice saturated with relief.
"You don't sound angry that I tricked you."
"I'm not." My sudden high made me brave. What did it matter now? It would soon be over. Charlie and Mom would never be harmed, would never have to fear. I felt almost giddy. Some analytical part of my mind warned me that I was dangerously close to snapping from the stress.
"How odd. You really mean it." His dark eyes assessed me with interest. The irises were nearly black, just a hint of ruby around the edges. Thirsty. "I will give your strange coven this much, you humans can be quite interesting. I guess I can see the draw of observing you. It's amazing—some of you seem to have no sense of your own self-interest at all."
He was standing a few feet away from me, arms folded, looking at me curiously. There was no menace in his face or stance. He was so very average-looking, nothing remarkable about his face or body at all. Just the white skin, the circled eyes I'd grown so used to. He wore a pale blue, long-sleeved shirt and faded blue jeans.
"I suppose you're going to tell me that your boyfriend will avenge you?" he asked, hopefully it seemed to me.
"No, I don't think so. At least, I asked him not to."
"And what was his reply to that?"
"I don't know." It was strangely easy to converse with this genteel hunter. "I left him a letter."
"How romantic, a last letter. And do you think he will honor it?" His voice was just a little harder now, a hint of sarcasm marring his polite tone.
"I hope so." Somewhere, in some distant place in the back of my mind, I noted how easily he spoke about my having a boyfriend. I wondered how old he was. Maybe vampires just don't care.
"Hmmm. Well, our hopes differ then. You see, this was all just a little too easy, too quick. To be quite honest, I'm disappointed. I expected a much greater challenge. And, after all, I only needed a little luck."
I waited in silence.
"When Victoria couldn't get to your father, I had her find out more about you. There was no sense in running all over the planet chasing you down when I could comfortably wait for you in a place of my choosing. So, after I talked to Victoria, I decided to come to Phoenix to pay your mother a visit. I'd heard you say you were going home. At first, I never dreamed you meant it. But then I wondered. Humans can be very predictable; they like to be somewhere familiar, somewhere safe. And wouldn't it be the perfect ploy, to go to the last place you should be when you're hiding—the place that you said you'd be.
"But of course I wasn't sure, it was just a hunch. I usually get a feeling about the prey that I'm hunting, a sixth sense, if you will. I listened to your message when I got to your mother's house, but of course I couldn't be sure where you'd called from. It was very useful to have your number, but you could have been in Antarctica for all I knew, and the game wouldn't work unless you were close by.
"Then your boyfriend got on a plane to Phoenix. Victoria was monitoring them for me, naturally; in a game with this many players, I couldn't be working alone. And so they told me what I'd hoped, that you were here after all. I was prepared; I'd already been through your charming home movies. And then it was simply a matter of the bluff.
"Very easy, you know, not really up to my standards. So, you see, I'm hoping you're wrong about your boyfriend. Edward, isn't it?"
I didn't answer. The bravado was wearing off. I sensed that he was coming to the end of his gloat. It wasn't meant for me anyway. There was no glory in beating me, a weak human.
"Would you mind, very much, if I left a little letter of my own for your Edward?"
He took a step back and touched a palm-sized digital video camera balanced carefully on top of the stereo. A small red light indicated that it was already running. He adjusted it a few times, widened the frame. I stared at him in horror.
"I'm sorry, but I just don't think he'll be able to resist hunting me after he watches this. And I wouldn't want him to miss anything. It was all for him, of course. You're simply a human, who unfortunately was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and indisputably running with the wrong crowd, I might add."
He stepped toward me, smiling. "Before we begin…"
I felt a curl of nausea in the pit of my stomach as he spoke. This was something I had not anticipated.
"I would just like to rub it in, just a little bit. The answer was there all along, and I was so afraid Edward would see that and ruin my fun. It happened once, oh, ages ago. The one and only time my prey escaped me.
"You see, the vampire who was so stupidly fond of this little victim made the choice that your Edward was too weak to make. When the old one knew I was after his little friend, he stole her from the asylum where he worked—I never will understand the obsession some vampires seem to form with you humans—and as soon as he freed her he made her safe. She didn't even seem to notice the pain, poor little creature. She'd been stuck in that black hole of a cell for so long. A hundred years earlier and she would have been burned at the stake for her visions. In the nineteen-twenties it was the asylum and the shock treatments. When she opened her eyes, strong with her fresh youth, it was like she'd never seen the sun before. The old vampire made her a strong new vampire, and there was no reason for me to touch her then." He sighed. "I destroyed the old one in vengeance."
"Alice," I breathed, astonished.
"Yes, your little friend. I was surprised to see her in the clearing. So I guess her coven ought to be able to derive some comfort from this experience. I get you, but they get her. The one victim who escaped me, quite an honor, actually.
"And she did smell so delicious. I still regret that I never got to taste… She smelled even better than you do. Sorry—I don't mean to be offensive. You have a very nice smell. Floral, somehow…"
He took another step toward me, till he was just inches away. He leaned in close and sniffed my neck letting his nose skim up the side of my throat. He reached up to stroke my cheek once quickly with his thumb, his face curious. I wanted so badly to run, but I was frozen. I couldn't even flinch away.
"No," he murmured to himself as he dropped his hand, "I don't understand." He sighed. "Well, I suppose we should get on with it. And then I can call your friends and tell them where to find you, and my little message."
I was definitely sick now. There was pain coming, I could see it in his eyes. It wouldn't be enough for him to win, to feed and go. There would be no quick end like I'd been counting on. My knees began to shake, and I was afraid I was going to fall.
He stepped back, and began to circle, casually, as if he were trying to get a better view of a statue in a museum. His face was still open and friendly as he decided where to start.
Then he slumped forward, into a crouch I recognized, and his pleasant smile slowly widened, grew, till it wasn't a smile at all but a contortion of teeth, exposed and glistening.
I couldn't help myself—I tried to run. As useless as I knew it would be, as weak as my knees already were, panic took over and I bolted for the emergency door.
He was in front of me in a flash. I didn't see if he used his hand or his foot, it was too fast. A crushing blow struck my chest—I felt myself flying backward, and then heard the crunch as my head bashed into the mirrors. The glass buckled, some of the pieces shattering and splintering on the floor beside me.
I was too stunned to feel the pain. I couldn't breathe yet.
He walked toward me slowly.
"That's a very nice effect," he said, examining the mess of glass, his voice friendly again. "I thought this room would be visually dramatic for my little film. That's why I picked this place to meet you. It's perfect, isn't it?"
I ignored him, scrambling on my hands and knees, crawling toward the other door.
He was over me at once, his foot stepping down hard on my leg. I heard the sickening snap before I felt it. But then I did feel it, and I couldn't hold back my scream of agony. I twisted up to reach for my leg, and he was standing over me, smiling.
"Would you like to rethink your last request?" he asked pleasantly. His toe nudged my broken leg and I heard a piercing scream. With a shock, I realized it was mine.
"Wouldn't you rather have Edward try to find me?" he prompted.
Carefully, weakly, I shook my head. Hopefully Edward would see that on the tape.
"He doesn't want to scream," he said to himself, almost sounding impressed, as he crouched down in front of me. "I bet I can make it happen, though."
I waited for the next snap.
Instead, he gently lifted my good arm and held my hand to his lips. The next pain was hardly even pain, compared to the rest. He could have easily taken off my finger, but he just nipped it. His teeth didn't even go that deep.
I barely reacted, but he jumped up and spun away. My head thumped against the ground, and my broken ribs screamed. I watched him, strangely detached as he paced the far end of the room, snarling and shaking his head back and forth. He'd left the camera by my head, still running.
The first hint of what he'd done was the heat—my finger was so hot. I was surprised I could even feel that over the bigger agonies. But I remembered Carlisle's story. I knew what had started. I didn't have much time.
He was still trying to calm himself—the blood, that was the problem. He'd gotten some of my blood in his mouth, but he didn't want to kill me yet, so he had to fight off the frenzy. He was distracted, but it wouldn't take much to catch his attention.
The heat was building fast. I tried to ignore that, to ignore the stabbing in my chest. My hand shot out and I had the camera. I raised it up as high as I could and smashed it back toward the ground.
And I was flying backward, into the broken mirrors. The glass punctured my shoulders, my scalp. The impact seemed to rebreak all of my broken bones. But that wasn't why I screamed.
Fire had ignited my bitten finger—flames exploded across my palm. Heat was scorching up my wrist. It was fire that was more than fire—a pain that was more than pain.
The other agonies were nothing. Broken bones weren't pain. Not like this.
The screaming sounded like it was coming from someplace outside my body—it was an unbroken yowling that was like an animal again.
My eyes were fixed, staring, and I saw the red light flashing in the tracker's hand. He'd been too fast, and I'd failed.
But I didn't care anymore.
Blood was running down my arm, pooling under my elbow.
Through the pain and nausea and dizziness I saw something that gave me a sudden, final shred of hope. His eyes, merely intent before, now burned with an uncontrollable need. The blood—spreading crimson across my white shirt, pooling rapidly on the floor—was driving him mad with thirst. No matter his original intentions, he couldn't draw this out much longer. He would have to kill me. Finally.
His mouth opened wide.
I waited, screaming.