Chapter 21: Fire and Ice
I couldn't remember the last time I'd ever been so cold. I was fully dressed, hiking boots still in place, heavy jacket zipped up to my chin, wrapped in a heavy down sleeping bag, and still I was shivering all over, teeth chattering so hard I thought I would crack them.
And it was still getting colder.
Another violent wind rattled the tent, and my shivering intensified.
"W-W-What t-t-t-time is it?" I managed to grind out.
"Two," Edythe answered.
She sounded almost as miserable as I felt. She sat on the far side of the tent, hands clutching her knees to make herself as small as possible, afraid to even breathe on me when I was this cold. She sat perfectly still, and even though it was too dark to see her face clearly, I could see the tension in her rigid posture.
Edythe had suggested we try to make a run for it—get out of the storm. But I knew it made more sense for us to stay right where we were. I had no desire to leave the tent, and besides, if Edythe and I made a very long trail together, the newborns might pick up on it tomorrow, and all our efforts would have been for nothing. The snow wouldn't do anything to mask our scents.
"What can I do?" she whispered, almost pleading.
I shook my head.
Outside the tent, I heard a dog-like whine.
"I-I-I-Is sh-she st-st-still here?" I demanded. "I th-th-thought I t-t-told her t-t-t-to g-g-go h-h-home!"
"It's not the cold," Edythe said. "It doesn't bother her much. She's worried about you."
"Sh-sh-sh-she sh-sh-should—" My teeth were chattering so much I couldn't finish, afraid I'd bite my tongue off.
Jules, standing right outside the tent, as though trying to shield the tent with her bulk, gave a high, keening sound.
"What do you want me to do?" Edythe hissed back, her polite facade fallen away, the barest note of the beginnings of hysteria in her voice.
"J-J-J-Just c-c-c-calm d-d-down," I chattered. "I'm f-f-f-fine."
Edythe gazed across the tent at me with a mixture of pain and almost frantic frustration. There was a low growl outside the tent, but the then sound broke off, cut short. Edythe suddenly stiffened.
I was startled when I abruptly heard a voice outside the tent.
"I have an idea," Jules said. "But I don't think you're going to like it."
"No," Edythe snapped, and her voice was as cold as the air outside. "Absolutely not."
"And I guess you don't care if his fingers and toes turn black and fall off," Jules said.
Edythe hesitated. I saw her eyes shift to me in the gloom. What little I could make out of her face seemed twisted with some conflict, almost tortured.
At last she closed her eyes and took a slow, steadying breath. Then she let out a short huff that sounded like resignation.
I heard the sound of the tent zipper coming down. Jules slipped in through the smallest gap she could manage, but still flakes of snow billowed in behind her and I felt a sudden blast of arctic air on my face. I shivered so hard it was almost a convulsion. Jules quickly zipped the door back up and the air settled once again, though I could still hear the howl of the wind outside.
I noticed Jules was holding the parka slung over one arm, and I hoped she wasn't intending to put it on me now—it looked like it was frozen solid. However, she threw it in the corner of the tent, then headed straight toward me.
I couldn't help but stare at her—dressed as always like she was ready for an afternoon in the sun, a sleeveless shirt and biking shorts, and barefoot. I would have thought she had to be impossibly cold, werewolf or not, but she came and knelt down at my side, completely casual. If anything, she looked smug. I caught sight of Edythe sitting with her arms folded, hands clenched, her eyes boring into Jules's back with the blackest expression of pure loathing I had ever seen.
Jules calmly unzipped the sleeping bag.
"W-W-W-What are y-y-you d-d-do—" I tried to say.
"Make some room there, Beau," she said. "You'll feel better in a second." Her eyes were glittering.
I suddenly understood her plan, and I did my best to glare. "N-n-n-n-no," I objected. "G-G-G-Go a-a-w-wuh—"
However, before I could even get the words out, she'd already slotted herself into the large sleeping bag beside me, forcing the zipper back up behind her.
Jules wrapped her arms firmly around me, pulling us together.
Jules was grinning and seemed perfectly at ease, despite Edythe glaring a hole in the back of her head.
"See?" Jules said cheerfully. "Isn't this better? In the army, this is what they do when someone has come down with hypothermia. Course, according to the manual, you're supposed to take off your clothes."
Edythe made a threatening hiss that raised the hair on the back of my neck, and I was amazed Jules was willing to risk having her back to her.
I really wanted to fight her. I wanted to kick up a protest and demand she get out right now. Especially because Edythe was looking so upset, and Jules was being so obnoxious about it. But the sudden heat was too much to resist. I pressed my icy fingers against her bare shoulders, and I sighed with relief at the same time she sucked in a sharp breath and flinched back from my touch.
"Jeez, you're freezing, Beau."
"S-S-S-Sorry," I managed to get out.
"Relax," she said, pressing her palms to my face, my cheeks, my forehead, my nose. She paused for a moment there, the tips of her fingers briefly brushing my lips. Her grin suddenly turned a bit wicked and she leaned close until her nose brushed mine.
I jerked back, glaring at her. "Y-Y-You're u-u-un-b-b-believable," I chattered.
Jules laughed and drew back, looking smug again. "Just doing my part to help out. Your face should be warmer now, it's all red."
I glared and tried to answer, but Jules pressed her palm over my mouth.
"Your lips are blue," she explained, almost gently. Her other hand continued to press over my face, then moving around the back of my neck. An involuntary sigh of relief escaped my mouth as the warmth touched my icy skin. For a moment my eyes slid closed.
I heard Edythe utter a muffled groan, and my eyes flew open again automatically.
"If you don't like my thoughts, stay out of my head." Jules's voice was calm, but I thought the color of her russet skin looked slightly deeper than usual, and her skin was suddenly burning even more where it touched mine.
"Believe me," Edythe answered in a pained tone, "if I could, I would."
I narrowed my eyes, regarding Jules with disapproval and suspicion. But now it was almost warm in the sleeping bag, enough that my teeth had stopped chattering.
Edythe was still sitting in the corner of the tent, silent, and I could see from the turn of her head that she was watching us. Her arms were still wrapped around her knees, drawn up to her chest.
I wanted to apologize. However, before I could marshal my frozen thoughts into a coherent sentence, Edythe murmured, almost gently, "Don't forget your feet."
I blinked then, realizing she was right. I went to work kicking off my boots inside the sleeping bag, then my socks, and I pressed my icy toes up against Jules's bare leg. She gasped and jumped again at the sudden cold, then relaxed. She pressed her hands against the side of my head again, rubbing my numb ears. Our faces were inches apart, but the smugness was gone from her expression and she didn't look like she was going to try to pull anything again. Instead, her face was placid, almost thoughtful as she worked.
This close to her, as I breathed in I noticed her skin had a woodsy fragrance, like the trees and moss of the forest outside. It was definitely not a bad smell—definitely not like Edythe and the others always made it out to be.
The storm howled outside like an angry animal, but it didn't bother me so much now, now that I'd warmed up and Jules was no longer out there standing in it. And now that I'd thawed out, the shivering and muscle spasms from earlier left me limp with exhaustion.
Jules gently stroked my face. I probably should have objected, but I was already fading out, and it was kind of soothing. She hummed something that sounded like one of the Quileute tribal songs, and I felt myself teetering on the edge of consciousness. My breath was slower now, more even. My eyes closed.
"Sarah is here," Edythe murmured. "Just like you asked."
"Good. She can keep us connected with the others while I take care of this situation here."
Edythe muttered something, too low for me to hear. It sounded like an oath.
I would have told them to cut it out, but by that point I was too far gone. My body felt heavy, and the voices around me had taken on a distant, almost dreamlike quality.
It was quiet for a time then, but for the screaming winds outside and the groan of violently swaying trees. Several times I almost slipped under, but then another massive gust of wind would set the tent poles to quivering and shaking against the rock, and I would come back to consciousness, if only barely.
It was Jules who finally broke the silence.
"He could still choose me, you know," she said, out of nowhere.
When Edythe made no reply, Jules continued, "Nothing's set in stone. I have so many things I could give him you couldn't. If he chose me, he could have a real family. I could give him—well, maybe not a normal life, but more normal than you'd give him. He wouldn't have to become a monster, wouldn't have to give up seeing Charlie or his mom... Maybe you're some kind of perfect fantasy girl, besides the bloodsucking vampire part, but I'm real. In the end, why wouldn't he choose me?"
Edythe didn't answer.
Jules suddenly slumped, and when she spoke again, the defiant, taunting edge was gone from her voice. "So hard to mess with someone when they can see inside your head," she muttered. "Okay, I admit it, I have no idea how this is going to end, either. Sometimes it feels hopeless. But I can't not fight...even when I don't always know how to fight."
The tent was silent again then, but for the ferocious winds outside. I was nearly out—I couldn't even be sure if I was still awake, or if I'd already drifted into a dream.
"Maybe," Edythe said unexpectedly, answering some thought I hadn't heard. "You could ask."
"It's only fair," Jules said. "You always see everything inside my head. I should get a chance to see inside yours."
"I suppose I see your point," Edythe murmured.
Jules snorted softly. "See," she muttered. "That's just what I mean. You act all polite when I know you're thinking something nasty." She added suspiciously, "So if I ask you a question, you'll answer honestly?"
Edythe didn't answer immediately, perhaps considering. At last, she said, "I suppose we might declare a temporary ceasefire, just for tonight. You're right, that is only fair." She added, "Though I still reserve the right to hold my peace, if I choose."
"Fine."
Edythe didn't speak for a moment, and I figured she was waiting for the first question.
"Are you jealous of me?" Jules asked bluntly.
"Yes," Edythe answered, without so much as a pause.
Jules sighed. "I don't mean right now. Me and him, here. Much as I like seeing that face you're making, this doesn't really mean anything in the longrun."
She continued, "I guess what I mean is, you're always so cool. So confident. Like you know he'll always choose you and nothing could change that. But isn't there a part of you that's afraid of me? That feels threatened, at least a little?"
This time, Edythe was quiet a moment. When she finally answered, her tone was more subdued. "Yes."
"For how long?" Jules asked curiously.
"From the beginning," Edythe said quietly. "From the moment I first heard him speak to you at the school dance. He spoke to you in a way I had never heard him speak before. At school, he had always kept himself a little apart from the others. He never seemed fully open, never joked around like the others did. I thought I had seen that side of him—the less guarded side, the joking side—more than anyone else. Until I saw him talking to you, with such greater ease than he had ever spoken to me.
"So to answer your question—yes, I have felt threatened by you. From the beginning, and still to this day."
Jules was quiet, considering that. However, when she spoke again, she had moved on to another question. "You stopped him seeing me for a while there at first. What made you change your mind and start playing nice?"
Edythe sighed. "Once I could accept that Beau was safe with you—relatively speaking—I realized that, stubborn as he is, my attempting to keep him away and his inevitable maneuvers to escape were as liable to get him hurt as anything. The last thing I wanted was to end up driving him to extremes."
"And?" Jules pressed. "Is that all?"
Edythe paused briefly. When she spoke again, her voice was low. "And also. When I...first realized. How I felt about Beau. That was not a choice. It wasn't something I could control. But from the beginning, I knew what I could control was how I loved him. I believed it would be the right thing to do to stay away from him, and I tried—but in the end, I couldn't do it. Then I tried to free him from me by leaving him, but as you know, that also ended in failure. My attempt at selflessness turned out to be the cruelest, most selfish mistake I have ever made.
"So you see, I wanted to do better than I had in the past. My mind doesn't work like that of a human, so I can think of many things at once, and a part of my mind is constantly devoted to ensuring Beau's safety. When we are apart, his welfare suddenly outside the scope of my influence, the helplessness is nearly unbearable. But I came to realize—that kind of love was only hurting Beau. I may want to be in control, to keep him safe, but by standing in his way of what he wanted to do, what he thought was right...that wasn't the kind of love I wanted to have. In the end, I would rather be understanding, trusting and supporting him, rather than fighting him. That seemed a better kind of love, the kind Beau deserves."
"And," Jules added, "you knew if you put a collar on him, you might drive him away, and you knew if you were going to win it was better to play the saint."
There was a smile in Edythe's voice as she replied. "I won't say that didn't cross my mind."
"Have you ever considered I might be the better match for him?" Jules asked. "That he might be better off with me?"
"Yes," Edythe replied, with a bit of a hollow laugh. "I even asked Archie to look into the future for me, to see if he might be happier with you... Of course he couldn't see anything."
"When it comes down to it, you don't want him to become a bloodsucker, do you?" Jules pressed. "That's why you left before."
Edythe sighed. When she spoke, she spoke slowly, uncertainly. "From the beginning...when I first realized how I felt. I knew there were only four possible endings to this story."
The tent was quite again, and Jules seemed to be waiting for Edythe to continue. When she didn't, Jules finally asked, "And? Those are?"
Edythe let out a breath again. "The first possibility was that he would not feel as strongly for me. That he would get over it and move on. I was prepared to accept that, though I knew my feelings would never change—you think of us as living stone, and in some ways, that is indeed what we are. We are not easily altered, and when we are, there is no going back."
She continued, "The second alternative was for me to remain with him throughout his human life. I knew it was not a good option for Beau, being with someone who could not fulfill with him all the human experiences in this life, would not grow old with him, would not give him a family—but it was the alternative I could most easily face, and I comforted myself that he, still being human and changeable, could still change his mind, and regardless I would die when he died. But it quickly proved to be too dangerous—living in proximity to us and our world."
Edythe went on in the same low, even voice. "Option three was for me to leave, and hope in my absence he would return to the path his life had been taking before I so thoughtlessly interrupted it. I tried to take that option, essentially trying to force him into the first option, and it turned out to be the worst choice of all—I will never forgive myself for the pain I inflicted on him then."
Edythe fell silent for a moment then.
At last, Jules said quietly, "And?"
"And, you know what the fourth option is," Edythe whispered. "You see, I have tried everything. Now the fourth option looms before me...and more and more I don't see that I have a choice. I don't want to see Beau sacrifice his human life, but I see no other alternative. And I think Beau knows that too, which is why he means to change as soon as possible, to have me change him. I don't see another way."
"Huh," murmured Jules. "You're right. He's going to do it, and you won't talk him out of it." She paused, then said slowly, "It sounds then like the only way Beau will get to keep his human life is if he picks me, not you."
Edythe was quiet for a long time. She said at last, very quietly, "I think you're right."
"You could try to help me, you know," Jules suggested. "Work with me to try to get him fall for me instead. If you really wanted to save him..."
There was a soft laugh in the darkness. "You really are truly unscrupulous, Julie Black. I commend you on your willingness to go to any lengths to defeat me."
There was a grin in Jules's voice as she responded. "It was worth a shot."
"I suppose it was." Edythe's tone was musing as she added, "If I could know for a fact he would be happier with you, my answer might be different. But I'm afraid I'm far too self-serving to gamble my own happiness away on pure chance. And Beau has already made it clear what he wants. The fact it coincides with what I want is more than I deserve."
"And what if Beau still changes his mind?" Jules challenged. "What if he chooses me after all? What would you do then?"
"Then that would be his choice," Edythe answered. "I wouldn't stand in his way. Much as I might prefer to disembowel you, I would do all in my power to smooth the way for the two of you, for him to find happiness." The smile was back in her voice. "But I wouldn't count on that just yet. I told you, I'm taking nothing for granted, and I still intend to fight. All the way until the final, bitter end."
There was silence in the tent yet again, but for the howling winds outside.
At last, Jules said, "Okay then...just one last question."
Again, the tent was quiet. Only when Edythe let out a short breath did I realize Jules had already asked the question, only she hadn't voiced it aloud.
"I...can't describe that," Edythe said eventually, very quietly. "I couldn't put it into words. All the parts of my mind—if you ever find yourself tortured, or set on fire, you may understand some sliver of what I felt. I knew I would only find relief in nothingness."
"You don't think it might have been a little overdramatic?" Jules asked. Her tone wasn't derisive or sneering, but simply curious.
"I could see where you would see it that way," Edythe answered. "You are human. You value your life, have many things to give it meaning. My life—if Beau does not exist, somewhere in this world, my life has no value."
Jules was quiet for a long minute then, considering that. At last she said, her rough voice low, "You really do love him, don't you?"
"I like to think so," Edythe answered. "This feeling—at once kind and gentle and selfless, and also, at the same time, wild and violent beyond imagining. I like to call it love."
Jules didn't answer immediately, once again leaving the only sound in the tent to the storm outside. Finally, she sighed. "I love him too, you know. Even if it's not quite like you do. Not quite so psycho." After a pause, she added, "I still think you're the bad guy in this story."
Edythe's voice was oddly solemn as she replied. "In all honesty, I often think so, too."
The tent lapsed into silence once again, and this time, it had a sense of finality to it. I heard the sleeping bag rustle as Jules shifted slightly.
"Well, thanks for letting me inside your head a little, leech," she said. "When should we say this truce is going to be over? First light? Or are we waiting until after the battle?"
There was a pause as they both considered.
"First light, I say," Edythe said, laughing softly.
"Definitely," Jules agreed, a grin in her voice.
"Sleep well, Julie Black," Edythe said softly. "You'll need it for the fight tomorrow."
"Don't tell me what to do," she said, but there was still that half-note of amusement, and she seemed already settled in.
It was quiet again, and even the wind outside the tent, which had been trying to tear us off the rock, had died down. Giving up the fight for now.
I felt myself slipping now, away from the odd, disquieting contents of this particular dream. I let myself drift into unconscious, where I figured my dreams would make more sense.