The plane touched down with a gentle bump at Port Angeles Airport, and I couldn't help but smile at Maze's dramatic groan echoing through my mind.
"Seriously, little human? Of all the places in this miserable world, you chose the one with the least amount of sun?" Mazikeen's voice resonated in my head, carrying that familiar mix of sarcasm and affection I'd grown accustomed to over the last seven years.
"You're the one who possessed the wrong body, remember?" I thought back, adjusting my backpack as I waited for the seatbelt sign to turn off. "Besides, you're technically on vacation. Think of it as a very long spa retreat."
"A spa retreat in purgatory, maybe," Maze scoffed. "At least your father's place has decent hunting grounds nearby."
It's strange how normal this has become – sharing my head with a demon. Not just any demon, but Mazikeen of the Lilim, Hell's most skilled torturer and Lucifer Morningstar's right-hand woman. The irony isn't lost on me that while most teenagers deal with inner demons metaphorically, I've been doing it literally since I was ten.
The flight attendant's voice crackled over the intercom, and I gathered my things, my mind drifting back to that fateful day. Maze had been sent to Earth for a "mandatory vacation" by Lucifer himself – apparently, a hundred thousand years of loyal service warranted some time off. She was supposed to possess an adult host for a brief earthly vacation. Instead, she got me, ten-year-old Isabella Swan, and somehow got stuck.
"You're reminiscing again," Maze interrupted my thoughts as I walked through the terminal. "We both know it was the best mistake I ever made. You'd be such a boring human without me."
I snorted, earning a strange look from a passing businessman. She wasn't entirely wrong. Having a demon warrior as your personal life coach certainly had its perks. Thanks to Maze's influence, I'd spent the last seven years learning to stand up for myself, staying fit, and picking up some self-defense moves. I might look like a normal seventeen-year-old girl, but I could handle myself in a tough situation – especially if Maze took control.
"Dad incoming," I warned mentally, spotting Charlie's familiar figure by the baggage claim. His police cruiser uniform was slightly wrinkled, and his mustache twitched with nervous energy.
"Ah, Chief Swan," Maze purred. "Still rocking that porn-stache, I see."
"Be nice," I thought, fighting back a grin as I approached him.
"Bells!" Charlie called out, awkwardly opening his arms for a hug. I stepped into it, genuinely happy to see him.
"Hey, Dad," I replied, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and coffee that always seemed to cling to him.
The drive to Forks was filled with Charlie's attempts at small talk, which I handled with more grace than I would have seven years ago. Maze's running commentary about the endless green landscape kept me entertained through the quieter moments.
"Look at all these trees," she complained. "Even Hell had more variety. At least we had different colored flames."
When we finally pulled up to the house, nothing had changed – same white siding, same windows, same creaky steps. Charlie helped me with my bags, mentioning he'd cleared some shelves in the bathroom for me.
"I got you registered for school," he said as we carried my stuff upstairs. "You start tomorrow."
"High school," Maze groaned. "Now that's real torture. And I would know."
As I hauled my suitcase up the stairs, I caught it before it could slip from my grip, my reflexes far sharper than they should be – another of Maze's "improvements" to my physical capabilities.
I unpacked methodically, arranging my room while Charlie hovered in the doorway. The one addition he'd made was a second-hand desk with an ancient computer – thoughtful, if outdated.
"There's a diner in town," Charlie suggested after I'd finished organizing. "Thought we could grab dinner?"
I adjusted the concealed sheath beneath my jacket – Maze's ancient blades always close, always hidden. The weight had become comforting over the years, like carrying a piece of her history against my skin.
"Sounds perfect," I replied, grabbing my jacket.
"Ask him about the crime rate," Maze prompted. "I'm dying for some action in this town."
I ignored her, but couldn't help wondering what tomorrow would bring. New town, new school, same old demon in my head. At least life was never boring with Maze around.
As we drove to the diner, rain started pattering against the windshield, and I could feel Maze's restless energy mixing with my own anticipation. Whatever Forks had in store for us, we'd face it together – just like we've always had.
"Damn right," Maze agreed, her satisfaction warming my chest. "Now let's see what kind of trouble we can stir up in this sleepy little town."
The diner was exactly what you'd expect in a small town – warm lighting, vinyl booths, and the smell of coffee and grilled burgers filling the air. A bell chimed as we walked in, and several heads turned our way. Charlie seemed to know everyone, nodding and waving as we made our way to a booth.
"Oh, this is precious," Maze commented as the waitress, her name tag reading 'Cora,' practically bounced over to our table. "Everyone knows the chief. It's like one of those sickeningly sweet TV shows."
"The usual, Charlie?" Cora asked, already pouring coffee into his cup. Her eyes turned to me with genuine warmth. "And you must be Isabella! Your dad hasn't stopped talking about you coming to stay."
"Just Bella," I corrected.
"Let me guess," Cora said, tapping her pen against her notepad. "You're not a fish fry kind of girl like your old man?"
"Get the burger," Maze suggested. "If we're stuck in this rainforest, we might as well enjoy the local cuisine."
"Actually, the burger sounds great," I said, earning an approving nod from Charlie.
As we waited for our food, Charlie cleared his throat. "So, uh, I got you a truck."
That caught my attention. "A truck?"
"Well, a Chevy. Billy Black's old one – you remember Billy? From La Push?"
"The Native American reservation," Maze supplied helpfully. "We visited before. That place had some interesting energy."
"Yeah, I remember," I said, recalling vague memories of fishing trips and muddy beaches. "That's… really nice of you, Dad. Thanks."
The conversation flowed easier after that, with Charlie telling me about the school and local happenings while we ate. Maze kept relatively quiet, only making occasional comments about the other patrons or suggesting questions I should ask.
"Your father's trying really hard," Maze observed as Charlie detailed the truck's quirks. "It's almost endearing, in a pathetic human way."
I mentally shushed her, but she was right. Charlie was trying, and I appreciated it more than I could express. When the last of the fries were gone and Charlie was settling the bill, I felt a strange mix of exhaustion and contentment wash over me.
The drive home was quiet, but comfortable. Tomorrow would bring new challenges – a new school, new people, new everything. But with Maze's constant commentary in my head and Charlie's steady presence beside me, maybe Forks wouldn't be so bad after all.
As we pulled into the driveway, headlights illuminated two figures waiting by an old red Chevy truck – one seated in a wheelchair, the other a tall teenager leaning against the truck's hood.
"Well, well," Maze perked up. "The boy's grown up nicely. And that truck… it's almost as ancient as I am."
Billy Black's weathered face broke into a wide smile as Charlie helped him with his wheelchair on the slick pavement. His son Jacob – and I was surprised I recognized him – gave me a friendly wave.
"Bella," Billy's deep voice carried across the yard. "You've grown since I last saw you."
"State the obvious, why don't you?" Maze snickered. "You were practically a tadpole last time you visited."
"Hey, Billy," I smiled, then turned to Jacob. "Hi, Jacob."
His eyes widened slightly. "You remember me?"
"Sure, mud pies in the backyard, right?" I said, walking around the truck. It was old, really old, with faded red paint and rounded fenders. But it had character.
"It's built like a tank," Maze observed. "At least if we crash, we'll probably survive."
Jacob followed me, launching into an enthusiastic explanation of the truck's mechanics. "I rebuilt the engine myself," he said proudly. "She runs great, just don't try to push her past sixty."
"Cute AND good with his hands," Maze commented. "Keep this one around, he might be useful."
"Want to see how she runs?" Jacob asked, holding up the keys.
Charlie and Billy were already heading inside, probably to watch whatever game was on. I nodded, and Jacob showed me the quirks of starting the engine – the specific way to turn the key, the loud roar as it came to life.
"Subtle, it's not," Maze said. "But I like it. Has attitude."
"The radio's pretty decent too," Jacob said, fiddling with the ancient dial. "Though you might want to upgrade it eventually."
We chatted for a few more minutes, Jacob's easy-going nature making conversation flow naturally. He was fifteen, as he proudly told me, and would be getting his license soon.
"He's flirting with you," Maze pointed out, amused. "In that adorably awkward teenage boy way."
I ignored her, focusing instead on Jacob's instructions about the truck's quirks. By the time Billy called out that they needed to head home, I felt confident about handling my new vehicle.
"See you around, Bella," Jacob said, helping his dad into their car.
"Yeah, see you," I replied, watching them drive away.
"Not a bad welcome wagon," Maze mused as we headed inside. "Though I still say this town needs more excitement."
I climbed the stairs to my room, exhaustion finally hitting me full force. Tomorrow would be my first day at Forks High School, and I needed sleep. As I drifted off, Maze's presence settled into its familiar spot at the back of my mind, comfortable and reassuring in its own strange way.
"Sweet dreams, little human," she murmured. "Tomorrow, we begin our real adventure."