The wolf's snarl ripped through the misty forest, echoing against ancient trees. Jacob's form twisted, fur erupting from his skin as he transformed, massive and terrifying. Mike stood beside me, his face pale with fear.
"Run!" Mike shouted, pointing toward the distant ocean.
But something else was coming. Edward emerged from the shadows, his skin pale as moonlight, his face fierce and predatory.
"Well, this is an interesting dream," Maze's voice cut through the dreamscape. "Your subconscious is getting creative."
The wolf – Jacob – lunged at Edward, all teeth and fury. I could feel the ground trembling beneath their battle.
"Fascinating," Maze mused. "Though in my 300,000 years of existence, I've seen disputes settled with much more style. Preferably involving several centuries of creative torture."
I jolted awake, sweat beading on my forehead.
"Quite the morning show," Maze commented. "Want to analyze the psychological implications?"
"Not now," I muttered, pushing back the tangled sheets.
The dream lingered, a strange mixture of warning and anticipation. Something was brewing, something beyond the typical teenage drama of Forks.
"I'm going for a walk," I said suddenly, grabbing a light jacket. "I need to think."
"Ooh, a morning walk!" Maze's excitement was palpable. "Potential for supernatural encounters? Count me in."
Eventually I got into the forest, it was quiet, damp leaves cushioning my steps. Pine and earth filled my lungs, a stark contrast to the sterile school hallways.
"Edward," I said out loud. "What are you?"
"Excellent question," Maze replied. "One I'm equally curious about. Cold skin, strange soul. Not like any being I've encountered since my last visit to Earth years ago."
Jacob's stories from the beach echoed in my mind. Cold Ones. Supernatural beings that moved impossibly fast, were cold to the touch.
"A mystery wrapped in pale skin and golden eyes," Maze chuckled. "Humans and their creative mythology. Though these seem… different."
I stopped in a small clearing, sunlight filtering through the trees. My decision crystallized.
"I want to give him a chance," I said firmly.
"Careful, little human," Maze warned. "Supernatural beings rarely play by human rules."
"Says the demon living in my head," I thought back, smiling.
The next day arrived with unexpected sunshine, burning away Forks' perpetual grey.
"Look at that," Maze said. "Actual sunlight. Someone alert the media."
Mike approached me before first period, looking nervous.
"Can we still be friends?" he asked, straight to the point, his voice hopeful.
I softened my tone. "Of course. Just… be good to Jessica. She really likes you."
Mike's relief was immediate. "Thanks, Bella."
"Teenage social dynamics," Maze commented. "Always so complicated."
Jessica cornered me at lunch, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Dress shopping!" she announced. "Port Angeles tonight!"
I noticed the Cullens' table was empty. Again.
"Pretty boy and his family are playing hooky," Maze observed. "Interesting."
That evening brought the promise of dress shopping. As I left Forks, the forest giving way to the lights of Port Angeles, I felt something shift.
"Adventure awaits," Maze purred. "And I have a feeling it's going to be more interesting than teenage dress selection."
Port Angeles bustled with evening activity, the streets alive with shoppers and tourists. Jessica's excited chatter filled the car as we drove through the downtown area.
"Parking!" she announced, pulling into a spot near a cluster of boutiques.
Lauren, sitting in the front passenger seat, cast a sideways glance at me. The tension was palpable.
"Something's brewing," Maze whispered in my mind. "Human social dynamics are always more complicated than demonic territorial disputes."
Inside the first boutique, the girls began pulling dresses from racks. Angela remained quietly helpful, Jessica bounced between options, and Lauren's displeasure seemed to radiate like heat.
"Okay, what's your problem?" I finally asked Lauren during a moment alone near the shoe section.
Lauren's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
"You've been giving me attitude all night," I said plainly. "And I'm guessing it has something to do with Tyler."
"This should be good," Maze murmured. "Human confrontations are always so deliciously awkward."
Lauren's cheeks flushed. "Tyler told everyone you were mean to him for no reason."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Mean? He literally tried to trap me in the school parking lot to ask me to a dance. After I'd already rejected him multiple times."
"Oh, burn," Maze chuckled. "Tell her the whole story."
"I told him clearly and directly that I wasn't interested," I continued. "When he kept pushing, I called him out on his inappropriate behavior. That's not being mean. That's setting boundaries."
Lauren seemed taken aback. The hostility in her eyes softened slightly.
"So you weren't just trying to humiliate him?" she asked.
"I was trying to be clear," I said. "Mike, Tyler - they needed to understand that 'no' means 'no'. It's not personal. It's respect."
"Demon-level communication skills," Maze approved. "I'm so proud."
As the evening progressed, Jessica turned to the group. "We should grab dinner after this. I know this great Italian place downtown."
"Sounds perfect," Lauren agreed, checking her phone.
I glanced around the boutique, remembering the address to the small bookstore we needed to go. "Would you mind if I check with you guys later?" I asked. "Got some errands to run, I can meet you at the restaurant."
Jessica looked uncertain. "Are you sure? We could all go together."
"I'm good," I assured her. "I want to look for some local history books. You guys keep shopping."
"Olympic Peninsula Rare Books," Maze noted in my mind.
"Just text me the restaurant's address," I said, already imagining the potential historical texts that might shed light on the Cullens and Jacob's stories about Cold Ones.
Angela gave me a knowing smile. "Be careful," she said softly. "Port Angeles can get a bit sketchy after dark."
"If only she knew what you have protecting you," Maze whispered in my mind, her tone a mix of amusement and protectiveness.
"I'll be fine," I reassured Angela. "I'll meet you guys at the restaurant in a bit."
The bookstore was small but inviting, with wooden shelves packed tightly with books. A bell chimed as I entered, the musty smell of old books filling my nostrils.
"Demon research mode activated." Maze chuckled.
An older gentleman looked up from behind the counter, adjusting wire-rimmed glasses. "Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for local historical texts," I said directly. "Specifically about Native American legends or local supernatural folklore."
"Supernatural folklore?" Harold - his name tag identified him - raised an eyebrow.
"Tribal stories," I clarified. "Cold Ones. Legends about unusual beings in the Olympic Peninsula."
"Interesting choice of research," Harold said, studying me carefully.
"Ooh, he's suspicious," Maze commented. "I like suspicious. Means there might actually be something worth finding."
Harold led me to a back section, pulling out several leather-bound volumes. "The Quileute have some fascinating oral histories," he explained, spreading out a few books.
I flipped through the pages methodically, my fingers tracing old illustrations of wolves and strange, pale figures.
"Look at these," Maze murmured. "Not quite like the Cullens, but close enough to be interesting."
I selected three books: a comprehensive collection of Quileute legends, a historical text about supernatural beliefs in the Pacific Northwest, and a compilation of tribal oral histories.
"Good choices," Maze approved. "Knowledge is power. And potential weapon."
At the counter, Harold watched me with an unreadable expression. "Not many teenagers interested in this kind of research," he observed.
"Local history is fascinating," I replied smoothly, meeting his gaze directly.
"Demon-level deflection," Maze chuckled. "Nicely done."
The books were carefully wrapped. As I paid, Harold slipped a business card into the bag. "If you need more information, feel free to contact me."
Something in his tone suggested more than he was saying.
The night was getting darker, and I had a restaurant to find.
As the night deepened, I wandered through the less populated streets of Port Angeles, the bookstore bag hanging from my shoulder. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the area grew increasingly deserted.
"Something's off," Maze's voice sharpened. "We're being followed."
I heard footsteps behind me – multiple sets. Four men, their voices low and menacing.
"Perfect," Maze said, her tone suddenly shifting. "Time for a little performance."
Suddenly, my body language changed. I became smaller, more vulnerable. My steps quickened, a hint of fear entering my movements.
"Bait accepted," Maze whispered.
The men's voices grew closer. "Hey, girl! Wait up!"
I turned down an alleyway – a deliberate choice. A trap, but not for me.
"Maze, don't-" I started to think.
"Trust me," she responded.
The men cornered me, their shadows blocking the alley's narrow exit. Four against one – or so they thought.
"Well, well," the largest one said, stepping forward. "Looks like we found ourselves a lost little girl."
"Humans," Maze muttered. "Always so predictable."
In an instant, everything changed. My posture shifted, becoming something entirely different. Predatory. Dangerous.
The first man lunged. Maze moved with supernatural speed, catching his arm and twisting it with a sickening crack that echoed off the alley walls. Bone splintered through skin, the man's scream cut short by a precise strike to his throat.
"Rule one of hunting," she said conversationally, "never assume your prey is helpless."
The second man charged. Maze's foot connected with his knee, shattering it sideways. The joint bent at an impossible angle, tendons ripping like wet paper. He collapsed, howling in agony.
"In Hell," Maze snarled, "we have entire departments dedicated to lessons like these."
The third attacker pulled a knife. Maze caught his wrist mid-strike, bones crushing under her grip. She used his own momentum to slam him into the brick wall. His skull connected with a wet, crushing sound that left a crimson smear.
The fourth man tried to run. Maze caught him by the throat, lifting him effortlessly. Her grip tightened, veins bulging in his neck as she spoke softly, "Lesson time."
When she finished, four broken bodies lay motionless. Bones protruded at impossible angles. Blood painted the alley walls. Not dead - Maze was precise like that - but definitely never walking the same again.
Edward appeared at the alley's mouth, freezing as he watched the carnage. His eyes were wide, a mixture of horror and fascination.
Maze dusted her hands – my hands – as if finishing a minor chore.
"Enjoying the show, pretty boy?" Maze called without turning.
Edward approached cautiously. "You should get in the car," he said quietly.
To my own surprise – we did.
"That," Maze said with satisfaction, "was therapeutic."
The drive was silent, charged with unspoken questions.
"You're not human," Edward said finally. It wasn't a question.
"Takes one to know one," Maze replied.
The car moved through Port Angeles's darkening streets, an electric tension filling the space between us. Edward's hands gripped the steering wheel with an almost imperceptible tension, his profile sharp and angular in the passing streetlights.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice carefully controlled.
"He's trying to process what he just saw," Maze observed.
I met his gaze evenly. "I'm fine."
Edward's eyes flickered to me, golden and intense. "Fine," he repeated, as if testing the word. "After what just happened in the alley?"
"Humans and their obsession with trauma," Maze muttered. "In Hell, we call that Tuesday."
"What exactly do you think happened?" I asked, matching his careful tone.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "You tell me."
"Some men were causing trouble," I said smoothly. "I handled it."
Edward's laugh was soft, almost surprised. "Handled it," he repeated. "Is that what we're calling attempted assault and… whatever that was?"
"Attempted?" Maze snickered. "I guess you could call it that."
He drove slowly, seemingly without destination. The city lights blurred around us, creating a kaleidoscope of color and shadow.
"You're not going to ask about it anymore?" I challenged.
"Would you answer if I did?" Edward countered, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Touché, pretty boy," Maze muttered.
"Probably not," I admitted.
Another silence stretched between us, but this one felt different. Less tense. More… curious.
"Oh, the restaurant," I said finally. "My friends will be waiting."
Edward's lips twitched. "I'll take you there."
True to his word, as we rounded a corner, I saw Jessica, Lauren, and Angela just emerging from a brightly lit restaurant.
Jessica spotted us first. Her eyes went wide with surprise and something else – excitement.
"Sorry Bella, We waited for you but you were taking too long. We went in first and just finished eating!" Jessica exclaimed.
Edward smoothly interjected, "Would you like to get something to eat?" His voice was like honey, velvet-soft and impossibly persuasive. "I can take you to dinner."
I looked at him, unsure of what to do.
"It's no trouble at all," he added, his gaze holding mine with an unspoken intensity. "I'm happy to ensure you get something to eat."
"Smooth operator," Maze commented. "Not bad for a… whatever he is."
The girls looked stunned. Lauren's face twisted with displeasure, while Angela watched with knowing eyes.
"We will be leaving then," Angela said quietly, her tone suggesting she understood far more than she was saying.
After a brief exchange of glances and a nod from me, the girls excused themselves and headed home.
"He's good," Maze admitted. "Very good."
The restaurant was small, with warm lighting and the soft murmur of conversations. A young waitress approached, her eyes immediately drawn to Edward.
"Table for two?" she asked, her voice slightly breathless.
Edward's smile was dazzling. "Yes, please."
The waitress led us to a table in the middle of the restaurant, surrounded by other diners. I glanced around, feeling exposed.
"Actually," I interrupted before the waitress could set down menus, "could we have something more private?"
Maze approved. "Nice move."
The waitress looked momentarily confused. Edward raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his golden eyes.
"Is there something wrong?" I asked the waitress, my voice firm but polite.
The waitress blinked, then nodded. "Of course. Right this way."
As we were led to the more secluded table, Maze's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Look at her," she muttered. "Acting like you're some sort of charity case she's reluctantly seating. As if this little human isn't good enough to sit with her precious golden boy."
The waitress's eyes kept darting between me and Edward, her body language suggesting she couldn't understand how someone like me could be with someone like him.
"I don't get it, you are impossibly beautiful too, is it your clothes? In Hell, we have entire departments dedicated to judging looks," Maze continued, "and even we would find her shallow assessment offensive."
The waitress's disappointment was barely concealed as she handed us menus, her gaze lingering on Edward while barely acknowledging me.
Edward seemed to sense the rising tension. His hand subtly touched my arm, a light warning.
"Thank you," he said to the waitress, his voice smooth and dismissive. "We'll take it from here."
The quick, deliberate gesture was clearly meant to redirect Maze's building anger. His golden eyes flickered momentarily to the space beside me.
"Trying to protect your little human server?" Maze challenged.
The waitress, oblivious to the supernatural negotiation happening at her table, simply nodded and retreated.
"Spoilsport," Maze grumbled. "I was just getting started on a perfectly good lesson in manners. If she only knew what I could do to her in about three seconds flat, she'd think twice about that condescending little look."
"How did you know where the restaurant was?" I asked, watching him carefully.
Edward's lips twitched slightly. "I have my ways of knowing things," he said casually. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Theoretically, one could read minds. If such a thing were possible."
"Oh shit," Maze exclaimed. "He can read minds? That makes so much more sense."
"Theoretically?" I raised an eyebrow, my tone matching his deliberate casualness.
Edward leaned forward, his golden eyes intense. "I can hear what people are thinking," he said, his voice low and conversational. "Every mind. Except…" He paused, a strange look crossing his face.
"Except ours?," Maze purred mentally. "Poor pretty boy can't get into our head?"
"Except?" I prompted, watching him carefully.
"Except yours," Edward continued. "And… something else. Another voice. Talking about things that shouldn't exist."
"Pretty boy means me." Maze sang in my mind.
Edward's fingers drummed the table. "Those men in the alley," he said carefully. "I heard their thoughts. They were following you. Planning something."
"Amateur predators," Maze scoffed. "They had no idea what was coming."
"You followed me?" I asked, my eyebrow raising slightly.
A ghost of a smile played on Edward's lips. "I was… concerned."
"Concerned like a predator is concerned about its prey," Maze commented.
"Answers for answers," I proposed. "Direct questions get direct responses."
Edward's golden eyes seemed to burn with curiosity. "Deal," he agreed. "Once we get to the car," he added as an afterthought.
The waitress returned, her notepad ready. "Are you ready to order?"
I glanced at the menu. "I'll have the mushroom ravioli," I said decisively.
"Carbs and protein," Maze commented. "Practical human sustenance."
Edward didn't pick up a menu. "Nothing for me, thank you," he said smoothly.
The waitress looked disappointed, her eyes lingering on Edward before turning to me. "Anything to drink?"
"Water," I replied.
As the waitress walked away, Edward watched me carefully. "You're not curious why I'm not eating?"
"Oh, he wants to play," Maze purred. "Shall we dance?"
"Should I be?" I asked, matching his casual tone.
My ravioli arrived quickly. I ate methodically, aware of Edward's constant observation.
"Stop staring, pretty boy," Maze muttered. "It's rude to watch humans eat."
When I finished, Edward signaled for the check. The waitress seemed reluctant to interrupt our table, sliding the bill closer without making eye contact.
Edward pulled out a black credit card, paying swiftly.
"Shall we?" he asked, standing and holding out my jacket.
"Such old-world manners," Maze observed.
We walked out of the restaurant, the night air cool against my skin.
"The car?" Edward suggested, his hand hovering near but not touching my back.
"Time for some real answers," Maze whispered.
The car's interior felt charged with anticipation. Edward's hands gripped the steering wheel, his profile sharp in the moonlight.
"You first," I said. "The van incident. How did you move so fast?"
"Direct approach," Maze approved. "I like it."
Edward's lips twitched. "I moved faster than humanly possible. You saw that."
"You stopped a van with your bare hands," I stated. "Left dents in solid metal."
"And that's just what he let us see," Maze commented.
"And you," Edward countered, "were different in that alley. Something… changed."
"He noticed that, did he?" Maze mused.
"My room," I said next. "That night. You were there. Why?"
Edward didn't deny it. "I find myself… drawn to you. To understanding you. And the strange voice that speaks to you."
"Strange? Should I take that as a compliment?" Maze chuckled.
"What are you?" I asked directly.
Edward's golden eyes flickered. "What do you think I am?"
"Cold skin, supernatural speed, mind reading," Maze listed. "The legends weren't wrong about the Cold Ones."
"And you?" Edward asked, watching me carefully. "What shares your mind?"
"Careful," Maze warned. "We don't know how he'll react."
"Let's just say it's something supernatural," I replied smoothly.
Edward's eyebrow raised. "The voice. Mazikeen?"
"He's been paying attention," Maze observed.
"You can definitely hear her" I stated.
"Sometimes," Edward admitted. "Fragments. Thoughts. Memories of… places that shouldn't exist."
"Oh pretty boy, you have no idea what exists beyond your little world."
The car fell silent, charged with unspoken revelations.
"We should get you home," Edward said finally. "Your father will be waiting."
"Supernatural revelations can wait," Maze agreed. "Charlie's protective instincts don't need triggering tonight."
As we pulled up to my house, Edward's voice was soft. "Tomorrow?"
I nodded. "Tomorrow."
"Round two of supernatural show and tell," Maze commented. "This should be interesting."