Life and Death للكاتبه ستيفاني ماير حصريا مكتمله باللغه الانجليزيه

[السسسيم]

Phone Call
WHEN I WOKE UP, I KNEW IT WAS TOO EARLY. I WAS GETTING MY DAYS and nights reversed. The TV was on—the only light in the room—but the sound was muted. The clock on the TV said it was just after two in the morning. I could hear the sound of quiet voices speaking too quickly, and I figured that was what had woken me. I lay still on the couch for a minute, waiting for my eyes and ears to adjust.
I realized that it was strange that they were talking loud enough to wake me, and I sat up.
Archie was leaning over the desk, Jessamine next to him with her hand on his back. He was sketching again.
I got up and walked over to them. Neither one of them looked up, too engrossed in Archie's work.
I went around to Archie's other side to see.
"He saw something else," I said quietly to Jessamine.
"Something's brought the tracker back to the room with the VCR, but it's light now," she answered.
I watched as Archie drew a square room with dark beams across its low ceiling. The walls were paneled in wood, a little too dark, out of date. The floor had a dark carpet with a pattern in it. There was a large window against the south wall, and an opening through the west wall led to the living room. One side of that entrance was stone—a large tan stone fireplace that was open to both rooms. The focus of the room from this perspective, the TV and VCR, balanced on a too-small wooden stand, were in the southwest corner of the room. An old sectional sofa curved around in front of the TV, a round coffee table in front of it.
"The phone goes there," I whispered, pointing.
They both stared at me.
"That's my mom's house."
Archie was across the room, phone in hand, dialing. I stared at the faithful rendering of my family room. Uncharacteristically, Jessamine slid closer to me. She lightly touched her hand to my shoulder, and the physical contact seemed to make her calming influence stronger. The panic stayed dull, unfocused.
Archie's lips blurred, he was talking so fast—his voice was just a low buzzing impossible to understand.
"Beau," he said. I looked at him numbly.
"Beau, Edythe is coming. She and Eleanor and Carine are going to take you somewhere, hide you for a while."
"Edythe is coming?"
"Yes, she's catching the first flight out of Seattle. We'll meet her at the airport, and you'll leave with her."
"But—my mom! She came here for my mom, Archie!" Even with Jessamine touching me, I could feel the panic seizing up my chest.
"Jess and I will stay till she's safe again."
"We can't win, Archie! You can't guard everyone I know forever. Don't you see what she's doing? She's not even tracking me. She'll find someone—she'll hurt someone I love! Archie, I can't—"
"We'll catch her, Beau."
"And what if you get hurt, Archie? Do you think that's okay with me? Do you think it's only my human family she can hurt me with?"
Archie raised his eyebrows at Jessamine. A heavy fog of exhaustion washed over me, and my eyes closed without my permission. I struggled against the fog, knowing what was happening. I forced my eyes open and stepped away from Jessamine's hand.
"I don't need sleep," I snapped.
I went back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Archie didn't follow me, the way I half-expected him to. Maybe he could see what his reception would be.

For almost four hours I sat on the floor and stared at the wall, my hands clenched into fists. My mind went around in circles, trying to come up with some way out of this nightmare. I couldn't see any escape—just one possible end. The only question was how many other people would get hurt before I reached it.
The only hope I had left was knowing that I would see Edythe soon. Maybe, if I could see her face again, I would be able to see a solution, too. Things were always clearer when we were together.
When the phone rang, I went back to the front room, a little ashamed of my behavior. I hoped I hadn't offended anyone. I hoped they realized that I was nothing but grateful for the sacrifices they were making for me.
Archie was talking at high speed into the phone again. I looked around, but Jessamine was gone. The clock said it was five-thirty in the morning.
"They're just boarding their plane," Archie told me. "They'll land at nine-forty-five."
Just a few more hours to keep myself together till she was here.
"Where's Jessamine?"
"She went to check out."
"You aren't staying here?"
"No, we're relocating closer to your mother's house."
I felt like I wanted to throw up, but then the phone rang again. Archie looked at the number, then held it out to me. I yanked it from his hand.
"Mom?"
"Beau? Beau?" It was my mom's voice—that familiar tone I'd heard a thousand times in my childhood, anytime I'd gotten too close to the edge of the sidewalk or strayed out of her sight in a crowded place. It was the sound of panic.
"Calm down, Mom," I said in my most soothing voice, walking slowly away from Archie, back to the bedroom. I wasn't sure if I could lie convincingly with him watching. "Everything is fine, okay? Just give me a minute and I'll explain everything, I promise."
I paused, surprised that she hadn't interrupted me yet.
"Mom?"
"Be very careful not to say anything until I tell you to." The voice I heard now was as unfamiliar as it was unexpected. It was a woman's voice, but not my mom's. It was a soft alto voice, a very pleasant, generic voice—the kind of voice that you heard in the background of luxury car commercials. She spoke quickly.
"Now, I don't need to hurt your mother, so please do exactly as I say, and she'll be fine." She paused for a minute while I listened in mute horror. "That's very good," she congratulated. "Now repeat after me, and do try to sound natural. Please say, 'No, Mom, stay where you are.'"
"No, Mom, stay where you are." My voice was barely more than a whisper.
"I can see this is going to be difficult." The voice was amused, still light and friendly. "Why don't you walk into another room now so your face doesn't ruin everything? There's no reason for your mother to suffer. As you're walking, say, 'Mom, please listen to me.' Say it now."
"Mom, please listen to me," I pleaded. I walked slowly through the bedroom door, feeling Archie's worried stare on my back. I shut the door behind me, trying to think clearly through the terror that immobilized my brain.
"There now, are you alone? Just answer yes or no."
"Yes."
"But they can still hear you, I'm sure."
"Yes."
"All right, then," the agreeable voice continued, "say, 'Mom, trust me.'"
"Mom, trust me."
"This worked out rather better than I expected. I was prepared to wait, but your mother arrived ahead of schedule. It's easier this way, isn't it? Less suspense, less anxiety for you."
I waited.
"Now I want you to listen very carefully. I'm going to need you to get away from your friends; do you think you can do that? Answer yes or no."
"No."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I was hoping you would be a little more creative. Do you think you could get away from them if your mother's life depended on it? Answer yes or no."
Somehow, there had to be a way.
"Yes," I said through my teeth.
"Very good, Beau. Now this is what you have to do. I want you to go to your mother's house. Next to the phone there will be a number. Call it, and I'll tell you where to go from there." I already knew where I would go, and where this would end. But I would follow her instructions exactly. "Can you do that? Answer yes or no."
"Yes."
"Before noon, please, Beau. I haven't got all day," she said.
"Where's Phil?" I hissed.
"Ah, be careful now, Beau. Wait until I ask you to speak, please."
I waited.
"It's important that you don't make your friends suspicious when you go back to them. Tell them that your mother called, and that you talked her out of coming home for the time being. Now repeat after me, 'Thank you, Mom.' Say it now."
"Thank you, Mom." It was hard to understand the words. My throat was closing up.
"Say, 'I love you, Mom, I'll see you soon.' Say it now."
"I love you, Mom," I choked out. "I'll see you soon," I promised.
"Goodbye, Beau. I look forward to seeing you again." She hung up.
I held the phone to my ear. My joints were frozen with horror—I couldn't unbend my fingers to drop it.
I knew I had to think, but my head was filled with the sound of my mother's panic. Seconds ticked by while I fought for control.
Slowly, slowly, my thoughts started to break past that brick wall of pain. To plan. Because I had no choices now but one: to go to the mirrored room and die. I had no guarantees that doing what she wanted would keep my mother alive. I could only hope that Joss would be satisfied with winning the game, that beating Edythe would be enough. Despair was like a noose pulling tight around my neck; there was no way to bargain, nothing I could offer or withhold that would influence her. But I still had no choice. I had to try.
I pushed the terror back as well as I could. My decision was made. It did no good to waste time agonizing over it. I had to think clearly, because Archie and Jessamine were waiting for me, and deceiving them was absolutely essential, and absolutely impossible.
I was suddenly grateful that Jessamine was gone. If she had been here to feel my anguish in the last five minutes, how could I have kept them in the dark? I fought back the fear, the horror, tried to force a lid on it all. I couldn't afford to feel now. I didn't know when she would be back.
I tried to concentrate on my escape, then immediately realized that I couldn't plan anything. I had to be undecided. No doubt Archie would see the change soon, if he hadn't already. I couldn't let him see how it happened. If it happened. How could I get away? Especially when I couldn't even think about it.
I wanted to go see what Archie had made of all this—if he'd seen any changes yet—but I knew I had to deal with one more thing alone before Jessamine got back.
I had to accept that I would never see Edythe again. Not even one last look at her face to take with me to the mirror room. I was going to hurt her, and I couldn't say goodbye. It was like being tortured. I burned in it for a minute, let it break me. And then I had to pull my shell together to go face Archie.
The only expression I could manage was a blank, dead look, but I felt like that was understandable. I walked into the living room, my script ready to go.
Archie was bent over the desk, gripping the edge with two hands. His face—
At first the panic broke through my mask, and I jumped around the couch to get to him. While I was still in motion, I realized what he must be seeing. It brought me up short a few feet away from him.
"Archie," I said dully.
He didn't react when I called his name. His head rocked slowly from side to side. His expression brought the panic back again—maybe this wasn't about me, maybe he was watching my mother.
I took another step forward, reaching out to touch his arm.
"Archie!" Jessamine's voice whipped from the door, and then she was right behind Archie, her hands curling over his, loosening them from their grip on the table. Across the room, the door swung shut with a low click.
"What is it?" she demanded. "What did you see?"
He turned his empty face away from me, looking blindly into Jessamine's eyes.
"Beau," he said.
"I'm right here."
His head twisted, his eyes locked on mine, their expression still blank. I realized that he hadn't been speaking to me—he'd been answering Jessamine's question
.+

[السسسيم]

السلام عليكم ورحمة الله وبركاته
انتهى الفصل العشرين من الكتاب و المسمى
ب"اتصال هاتفي"

[السسسيم]

Hide-And-Seek

"WHAT WAS IT?" I'D LOST CONTROL OF MY VOICE—IT WAS FLAT, UNCARING.
Jessamine stared at me. I kept my expression vacant and waited. Her eyes flickered between Archie's face and mine, feeling the chaos. I knew what Archie had seen.+
A peaceful atmosphere settled around me. I didn't fight it. I used it to keep my emotions under control.
Archie recovered, too. His face snapped back to its normal expression.
"Nothing," he said, his voice amazingly calm and convincing. "Just the same room as before." He looked at me, focusing for the first time. "Did you want breakfast?"
"I'll eat at the airport." I was calm, too. Almost like I was borrowing Jessamine's extra sense, I could feel Archie's well-concealed desperation to get me out of the room, so that he could be alone with her. So he could tell her that they were doing something wrong, that they were going to fail.
Archie was still focused on me.
"Is your mother all right?"
I had to swallow back a throatful of bile. I could only follow the script I'd planned earlier.
"My mom was worried," I said in a monotone voice. "She wanted to come home. It's okay. I convinced her to stay in Florida for now."
"That's good."
"Yes," I agreed robotically.
I turned and walked slowly to the bedroom, feeling their eyes following the whole way. I shut the door behind me, and then I did what I could. I showered and got dressed in clothes that fit me. I dug through the duffel bag until I found my sock full of money—I emptied it into my pocket.
I stood there for a minute, staring at nothing, trying to think of things I was allowed to think about. I came up with one idea.
I knelt by the little bedside table and opened the top drawer. Underneath the complimentary copy of the Bible, there was a stash of stationery and a pen. I took a sheet of paper and an envelope out of the drawer.
"Edythe," I wrote. My hand was shaking. The letters were barely legible.
I love you.
Sorry—again. So sorry.
She has my mom, and I have to try. I know it may not work. I am so very, very sorry.
Don't be mad at Archie and Jessamine. If I get away from them it will be a miracle. Tell them thank you for me. Archie especially.
And please, please don't come after her. That's what she wants. I can't stand it if anyone else has to be hurt because of me, especially you. Please, this is the only thing I can ask you now. For me.
I'm not sorry that I met you. I'll never be sorry that I love you.
Forgive me.
Beau.
I folded the paper into thirds, and then sealed it into the envelope. Eventually she would find it. I hoped she would understand. I hoped she would forgive. And most of all, I hoped she would listen.
When I walked back out to the living room, they were ready.
I sat alone this time in the back of the car. Jessamine kept shooting glances at me in the mirror when she thought I wouldn't notice. She kept me calm, which I appreciated.
Archie leaned against the passenger door, his face pointed at Jessamine, but I knew he was watching me in his peripheral vision. How much had he seen? Was he expecting me to try something? Or was he focused on the tracker's moves?
قد يعجبك

"Archie?" I asked.
He was wary. "Yes?"
"I wrote a note for my mom," I said slowly. "Would you give it to her? Leave it at the house, I mean?"
"Of course, Beau." His voice was careful—the way you spoke to someone standing on a ledge. They could both see me coming apart. I had to control myself better.
We got to the airport quickly. Jessamine parked in the center of the garage's fourth floor; the sun couldn't reach this deep into the concrete block. We never had to leave the shadows as we made our way to the terminal. It was terminal four, the biggest one, the most confusing. Maybe that would help.
I led the way, for once more knowledgeable about our surroundings than they were. We took the elevator down to level three, where the passengers unloaded. Archie and Jessamine spent a while looking at the departing flights board. I could hear them discussing the pros and cons of New York, Atlanta, Chicago. Places I'd never been. Places where I would never go, now.
I tried not to think about my escape. We sat in the long row of chairs by the metal detectors, and my knee kept bouncing. Jessamine and Archie pretended to people-watch, but they were really just watching me. Every inch I shifted in my seat was followed by a quick glance out of the corner of their eyes. This was hopeless. Should I run? Would they dare to stop me physically with all these people around? Or would they just follow?
Whatever I did, I was going to have to time it right. If I waited till Edythe and Carine were close, Archie would have to wait for them, right? But I couldn't let it get too close. I was pretty sure Edythe wouldn't care about the human witnesses when she started tracking me.
Part of me was able to make these calculated judgments. The other part was so aware that Edythe was almost here. Like every cell in my body was pulling toward her. That made it harder. I found myself trying to think of excuses to stay, to see her first and then make my escape. But that was impossible if I was going to have any chance at all to run.
Several times Archie offered to go get breakfast with me. Later, I told him. 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. Her plane was ten minutes early. I had no more time.
I pulled the unmarked envelope out of my pocket and handed it to Archie.
"You'll get this to her?"
He nodded, taking the letter and slipping it into his backpack.
"I think I'll eat now," I said.
Archie stood. "I'll come with you."
"Do you mind if Jessamine comes instead?" I asked. "I'm feeling a little..." I didn't finish the sentence. My eyes were wild enough to convey the point.
Jessamine stood up. Archie looked confused, but—I saw with huge relief—not suspicious. He must be attributing the change in his vision to some maneuver of the tracker's rather than a betrayal by me. He wasn't watching me, he was watching Joss.
Jessamine walked silently beside me, her hand on the small of my back, as if she were guiding me. I pretended a lack of interest in the first few airport cafés, my head scanning for something, anything. There had to be a window, an opportunity I could use.
I saw a sign, and had an idea. Inspiration in desperation.
There was one place Jessamine wouldn't follow me.
I had to move quickly, before Archie saw something.
"Do you mind?" I asked Jessamine, nodding to the door. "I'll be right back."
"I'll be here," she promised.
As soon as I was around the corner of the doorless entry, out of sight, I was running.
It was an even better solution than I'd first thought. I remembered this room. My stride lengthened.
The one place Jessamine wouldn't follow me—the men's room. They mostly had two entrances, but usually they were close to each other. My first plan, to slide out behind someone else, would never have worked.
But this room—I'd been here before. Gotten lost here once, because the other exit was straight through, coming out in a totally different hallway. I couldn't have planned it better.
I was already in the hall now, sprinting to the elevators. If Jessamine stayed where she said she would, I'd never be in her line of sight. I didn't look behind me as I ran. This was my only chance, and even if she was after me, I had to keep going. People stared, but they didn't look too shocked. There were lots of reasons to run in an airport.
I dashed up to the elevators, throwing my hand between the closing doors of a full car 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 doors 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 stumbling run again as the exit doors came into view. I had no way of knowing if Jessamine was looking for me yet. I would have only seconds if she was following my scent. I threw myself at 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. Archie and Jessamine were either about to realize I was gone, or they already had. They would find me in a heartbeat.
A boxy white shuttle was just closing its doors a few feet behind me.
"Wait!" I yelled, running, waving at the driver.
"This is the shuttle to the Hyatt," the driver said in confusion as he opened the doors.
"Yeah," I huffed, "that's where I'm going." I jumped up the steps.
He raised an eyebrow at my lack of luggage, 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, got smaller and smaller behind me. I couldn't stop imagining Edythe, where she would stand at the edge of the road when she found the end of my trail.
Don't lose it yet, I told myself. You still have 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 address. "I need to get there as soon as possible."
"That's in Scottsdale," she 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 chest. My city began to rush around me, but I didn't look out the windows. I had to fight to maintain control. There was no point in breaking down now, it wouldn't help anything. Against the odds, I'd escaped. I was able now to do everything I could for my mom. My path was set. I just had to follow it.
So, instead of panicking, I closed my eyes and spent the twenty-minute drive with Edythe.
I imagined that I had stayed at the airport to meet her. I visualized how I would have stood right at the do-not-cross line, the first person she would see as she came down the long hallway from the gates. She would move too fast through the other passengers—and they would stare because she was so graceful. She would dart across those last few feet—not quite human—and then she'd throw her arms around my waist. And I wouldn't bother with careful.
I wondered where we would have gone. North somewhere, so she could be outside in the day. Or maybe somewhere very remote, so we could lie in the sun together again. I imagined her by the shore, her skin sparkling like the sea. It wouldn't matter how long we had to hide. To be trapped in a hotel room with her would be like heaven. So many things I still wanted to know about her. I could listen to her talk forever, never sleeping, never leaving her side.
I could see her face so clearly now... almost hear her voice. And, despite everything, for a second I was actually happy. I was so involved in my escapist daydream, I lost all track of the racing seconds.
"Hey, what was the number?"
The cabbie's question punctured my fantasy. The fear I'd controlled for a few minutes took control again.
"Fifty-eight twenty-one." My voice sounded strangled. The cabbie looked at me like she was nervous that I was having an episode or something.
"Here we are, then." She was anxious to get me out of her car, probably hoping I wouldn't ask for my change.
"Thank you," I whispered. There was no need to be afraid, I reminded myself. I knew the house was empty. I had to hurry; my mom was waiting for me, terrified, maybe hurt already, in pain, depending on me.
I ran to the door, reaching up automatically to grab the key under the eave. It was dark inside, empty, normal. The smell was so familiar, it almost incapacitated me. It felt like my mother must be close, just in the other room, but I knew that wasn't true.
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 on just 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 okay?"
"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?"
"Yeah. 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 morning heat.
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 kid. 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.
I felt so slow, like I was running through wet sand—I couldn't seem to get enough purchase from the concrete. I tripped over my feet several times, once falling, catching myself with my hands, scraping them on the sidewalk, and then lurching up to plunge forward again. 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.

[السسسيم]

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; 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 taped inside the door. It was handwritten on bright 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 was damp. The west dance floor was dark, I could see through the open viewing window. The east dance floor, the bigger room, the one from Archie's vision, 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 mom's voice called for me.
"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 spun toward the sound.
There she was, on the TV screen, mussing 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. Mom had seen my feet flailing, trying to reclaim my balance. "Beau? Beau?" she'd cried out in panic.
And then the TV screen was blue.
I turned slowly. The tracker was standing very still by the back exit, so still I hadn't noticed her at first. In her hand was a remote control. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then she smiled.
She walked toward me, got just a few feet away, and then passed me to put the remote down next to the VCR. I pivoted carefully to watch her.
"Sorry about that, Beau, but isn't it better that your mother didn't really have to be involved in all this?" Her voice was kind.
And suddenly it hit me. My mom was safe. She was still in Florida. She'd never gotten my message. She'd never been terrified by the dark red eyes staring at me now. She wasn't in pain. She was safe.
"Yes," I answered, my voice breaking 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 be over soon. Charlie and Mom would never be hurt, would never have to be afraid. I felt almost dizzy from the relief. Some analytical part of my mind warned me that I was close to snapping from the stress, but then, losing my mind sounded like a decent option right now.
"How odd. You really mean it." Her dark eyes looked me up and down. 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 more closely. It's amazing—some of you seem to have no sense of your own self-interest at all."
She was standing a few feet away from me, arms folded, looking at me curiously. There was no menace in her expression or stance. She was so average-looking, nothing remarkable about her face or body at all. Just the white skin, the circled eyes I was used to. She wore a pale blue, long-sleeved shirt and faded blue jeans.
"I suppose you're going to tell me that your friends will avenge you?" she asked—hopefully, I thought.
"I asked them not to."
"And what did your lover think of that?"
"I don't know." It was weird how easy it was to talk to her. "I left her a letter."
"How romantic, a last letter. And do you think she will honor it?" Her voice was just a little harder now, a hint of sarcasm marring her polite tone.
"I hope so."
"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 silently.
"When Victor couldn't get to your father, I had him learn more about you. What's the sense in running all over the planet chasing you down when I could comfortably wait for you in a place of my choosing? After Victor gave me the information I needed, 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.
"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 friends got on a plane to Phoenix. Victor 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—what I'd sensed—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 the girl. Edythe, isn't it?"
I didn't answer. My bravado was wearing off. I could tell she was coming to the end of her monologuing, which I didn't get the point of anyway. Why explain to me? Where was the glory in beating some weak human? I didn't feel the need to rub it in to every cheeseburger I conquered.
"Would you mind, very much, if I left a little letter of my own for Edythe?"
She 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. She adjusted it a few times, widened the frame.
"I don't think she'll be able to resist hunting me after she watches this."
So this explained the gloating. It wasn't for me.
I stared into the camera lens.
My mother was safe, but Edythe wasn't. I tried to think of anything I could do to stop this from happening, to keep that video out of her hands, but I knew I wasn't fast enough to get to the camera before the tracker stopped me.
"I could be wrong about her level of interest," Joss went on. "Obviously, you're not important enough for her to decide to keep you. So... I'll have to make this really offensive, won't I?" She smiled at me, then turned to smile at the camera.
She stepped toward me, still smiling. "Before we begin..."
I'd known I was going to die. I'd thought I was prepared for that. I hadn't considered any other version but this—she would kill me, drink my blood, and that would be the end.
There was a different version after all.
I felt numb, frozen.
"I'm going to tell you a story, Beau. Once, a long time ago, my prey escaped me. Shocking, I know! It only happened the one time, so you can imagine how it's haunted me. It was a similar situation in many ways. There was a delicious human boy—he smelled even better than you do, no offense—but only one vampire protected him. It should have been a very easy meal. However, I underestimated the boy's protector. When she knew I was after her little friend, she stole him from the asylum where she worked—can you imagine the degradation? Actually working a human job for your food?" She shook her head in disbelief. "As I was saying, she took him from the asylum, and once she freed him she made him safe. He was important enough to her, but then, he was special. A hundred years earlier he would have been burned at the stake for his visions. In the nineteen-twenties it was the asylum and the shock treatments. Poor boy—he didn't even seem to notice the pain of his transformation. When he opened his eyes, it was like he'd never seen the sun before. The old vampire made him a strong new vampire, and there was no reason for me to touch him then, no blood to enjoy." She sighed. "I destroyed the old one in vengeance."
"Archie!" I breathed.
"Yes, your friend. I was so surprised to see him in the clearing. This is why I've told you my story—to bring them comfort. I get you, but they get him. My one lost quarry—quite an honor, actually.
"I still regret that I never got to taste..."
She took another step toward me. Now she was just inches away. She leaned her face in closer to me, stretching up on her toes so that her nose could skim up the side of my throat. The touch of her cold skin made me want to recoil, but I couldn't move.
"I suppose you'll do," she said. "But not quite yet. We'll have some fun first, and then I'll call your friends and tell them where to find you—and my little message."
I was still numb. The only thing I was starting to be able to feel was my stomach, rolling with nausea. I stared into the camera, and it was like Edythe was already watching.
The tracker stepped back and began to circle me casually, like she was trying to get a better view of a statue in a museum. Her face was still friendly as she decided where to start. And then her smile got wider and wider and wider till her mouth was just a gash full of teeth. She slumped forward into a crouch.
I didn't see what part of her hit me—it was too fast. She just blurred, there was a loud snap, and my right arm was suddenly hanging like it wasn't connected to my elbow anymore. The very last thing was the pain—it lanced up my arm a long second later.
The hunter was watching again now, but her face hadn't gone back to normal, it was still mostly teeth. She waited for the pain to hit me, watched as I gasped and curled in around my broken arm.
Before I could even feel all of the first pain, while it was still building, she blurred again, and with more snapping pops, something knocked me back against the wall—the bar buckled behind my back and the mirrors splintered.
A strange, animal-like whine escaped between my teeth. I tried to suck in another breath, and it was like a dozen knives were stabbing my lungs.
"That's a nice effect, don't you think?" she asked, her face friendly again. She touched one of the spiderweb lines running away from where I'd hit the wall. "As soon as I saw this place, I knew it was the right set for my little film. Visually dynamic. And so many angles—I wouldn't want Edythe to miss even one little thing."
I didn't see her move, but there was another tiny crunch, and a dull throbbing started in my left index finger.
"Still on his feet," she said, and then she laughed.
The next crack was much louder—like a muffled detonation. The room seemed to fly up past me, like I was dropping through a hole. The agony hit the same time I hit the floor.
I choked on the scream that was trying to rip out of my throat, fighting through the bile that flooded my esophagus. There wasn't enough air, I couldn't fill my lungs. A strange, smothered groan seemed to come from deep inside my torso.
My body automatically coughed out the vomit so I could breathe, even though breathing felt like it was tearing my insides apart. The pain from my broken arm was throbbing in the background now—my leg was center stage. That pain was still peaking. I was splayed awkwardly on the floor in a pool of my own vomit, but I couldn't move anything.
She was down on her knees by my head now, and the red light was flashing in her hand.
"Time for your close-up, Beau."
I coughed more acid from my throat, wheezing.
"Now, what I'd like here is a retraction. Can you do that for me? You do me a favor, I speed this up a little. Does that sound fair?"
My eyes couldn't focus on her face—the red flashing light seemed hazy.
"Just tell Edythe how much this all hurts," she coaxed. "Tell her that you want vengeance—you deserve it. She brought you into this. In a very real sense, she's the one who's hurting you here. Try to sell it."
My eyes closed.
She lifted my head with surprising gentleness—though the movement sent ricochets of torture through my arms and ribs.
"Beau," she said softly, like I was sleeping and she was trying to wake me. "Beau? You can do this. Tell Edythe to come after me."
She shook me lightly, and a sound like a sigh leaked out of my lungs.
"Beau dear, you have so many bones left—and the big ones can be broken in so many places. Do what I want, please."
I looked at her out-of-focus face. She wasn't making me a real offer. Nothing I said now would save me. And there was too much at stake.
Carefully, I shook my head once. Maybe Edythe would know what I meant.
"It doesn't want to scream," she said in a funny little singsong voice. "Should we make it scream?"
I waited for the next snap.
Instead, she gently lifted my good arm and held my hand to her lips. The next pain was hardly even pain, compared to the rest. She could have easily taken off my finger, but she just nipped it. Her teeth didn't even go that deep.
I barely reacted, but she jumped up and spun away. My head thumped against the ground, and my broken ribs screamed. I watched her, strangely detached as she paced the far end of the room, snarling and shaking her head back and forth. She'd left the camera by my head, still running.
The first hint of what she'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 Carine's story. I knew what had started. I didn't have much time.
She was still trying to calm herself—the blood, that was the problem. She'd gotten some of my blood in her mouth, but she didn't want to kill me yet, so she had to fight off the frenzy. She was distracted, but it wouldn't take much to catch her 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. She'd been too fast, and I'd failed.
But I didn't care anymore.
Blood was running down my arm, pooling under my elbow.
The tracker's nostrils were flared, her eyes wild, her teeth bared. The blood dripped onto t

[السسسيم]

he floor, but I couldn't hear it over the screaming. Here was my last shred of hope. She wouldn't be able to stop herself now. She would have to kill me. Finally.
Her mouth opened wide.+
I waited, screaming
.

[السسسيم]

السلام عليكم ورحمة الله وبركاته
انتهى الفصل الواحد والعشرين من الكتاب والمسمى
ب"لعبة الاختباء"

[السسسيم]

The Choice
ANOTHER SCREAM ON TOP OF MINE—A SHRIEK LIKE A CHAINSAW CUTTING through rebar.
The hunter lunged, but her teeth snapped closed an inch from my face as something yanked her back, flung her out of my sight.
The fire pooled in the crease of my elbow, and I screamed.
I wasn't alone, there were others screaming—the metallic snarl was joined by a high keening that bounced off the walls and then cut off suddenly. A thrumming growl was grinding underneath the other sounds. More metal tearing, shredding...+
"No!" someone howled in an agony to match mine. "No, no, no, no!"
This voice meant something to me, even through the burning that was so much more than that. Though the flames had reached my shoulder, this voice still claimed my attention. Even screaming, she sounded like an angel.
"Beau, please," Edythe sobbed. "Please, please, please, Beau, please!"
I tried to answer, but my mouth was disconnected from the rest of me. My screams were gone, but only because there was no more air.
"Carine!" Edythe shrieked. "Help me! Beau, please, please, Beau, please!"
She was cradling my head in her lap, and her fingers were pressing hard against my scalp. Her face was unfocused, just like the hunter's. I was falling down a tunnel in my head. The fire was coming with me, though, just as sharp as before.
Something cool blew into my mouth, filling my lungs. My lungs pushed back. Another cool breath.
Edythe came into focus, her perfect face twisted and tortured.
"Keep breathing, Beau. Breathe."
She put her lips against mine and filled my lungs again.
There was gold around the edges of my vision—another set of cold hands.
"Archie, make splints for his leg and arm. Edythe, straighten out his airways. Which is the worst bleed?"
"Here, Carine."
I stared at her face while the pressure against my head eased. My screams were just a broken whimper now. The pain wasn't any less—it was worse. But the screaming didn't help me, and it did hurt Edythe. As long as I kept my eyes on her face, I could remember something beyond the burning.
"My bag, please. Hold your breath, Archie, it will help. Thank you, Eleanor, now leave, please. He's lost blood, but the wounds aren't too deep. I think his ribs are the biggest problem now. Find me tape."
"Something for the pain," Edythe hissed.
"There—I don't have hands. Will you?"
"This will make it better," Edythe promised.
Someone was straightening my leg. Edythe was holding her breath, waiting, I think, for me to react. But it didn't hurt like my arm.
"Edythe—"
"Shhh, Beau, it's going to be okay. I swear, it's going to be fine."
"E—it's—not—"
Something was digging into my scalp and something else was yanking tight against my broken arm. This tweaked my ribs, and I lost my breath.
"Hold on, Beau," Edythe begged. "Please just hold on."
I labored to pull in another breath.
"Not—ribs," I choked. "Hand."
"Can you understand him?" Carine's voice was right next to my head.
"Just rest, Beau. Breathe."
"No—hand," I gasped out. "Edythe—right hand!"
I couldn't feel her cold hands on my skin—the fire was too hot. But I heard her gasp.
"No!"
"Edythe?" Carine asked, startled.
"She bit him." Edythe's voice had no volume, like she'd run out of air, too.
Carine caught her breath in horror.
"What do I do, Carine?" Edythe demanded.
No one answered her. The tugging continued on my scalp, but it didn't hurt.
"Yes," Edythe said through her teeth. "I can try. Archie—scalpel."
"There's a good chance you'll kill him yourself," Archie said.
"Give it to me," she snapped. "I can do this."
I didn't see what she did with the scalpel. I couldn't feel anything else in my body anymore—nothing but the fire in my arm. But I watched her raise my hand to her mouth, like the hunter had. Fresh blood was welling from the wound. She put her lips over it.
I screamed again, I couldn't help it. It was like she was pulling the fire back down my arm.
"Edythe," Archie said.
She didn't react, her lips still pressed to my hand. The fire warred up and down my arm, sawing back and forth. Moans escaped through my clenched teeth.
"Edythe," Archie shouted. "Look."
"What is it, Archie?" Carine asked.
Archie's hand shot out and slapped Edythe's cheek.
"Stop it, Edythe! Stop it now!"
My hand dropped away from her face. She looked at Archie with her eyes so wide they seemed like half her face. She gasped.
"Archie!" Carine barked.
"It's too late," Archie said. "We got here too late."
"You can see it?" Carine said in a more subdued voice.
"There are only two futures left, Carine. He survives as one of us, or Edythe kills him trying to stop it from happening."
"No," Edythe moaned.
Carine was quiet. The tugging against my scalp slowed.
Edythe dropped her face to mine. She kissed my eyelids, my cheeks, my lips. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"It doesn't need to be this slow," Archie complained. "Carine?"
"I made an oath, Archie."
"I didn't," he snarled.
"Wait, wait," Edythe said, her head snapping up. "He deserves a choice."
Her lips were at my ear. I clamped my teeth against the moaning, straining to listen.
"Beau? I won't make this decision for you. I won't take this away from you. And I'll understand, I promise, Beau. If you don't want to live like this, I won't fight you. I'll respect what you want. I know it's a horrible choice. I would give you any other option if I could. I would die if I could give your life back to you." Her voice broke. "But I can't make that trade. I can't do anything—except stop the pain. If that's what you want. You don't have to be this. I can let you go—if that's what you need." It sounded like she was sobbing again. "Tell me what you want, Beau. Anything."
"You," I spit through my teeth. "Just you."
"Are you sure?" she whispered.
I groaned. The fire was reaching its fingers into my chest. "Yes," I coughed out. "Just—let me stay—with you."
"Out of my way, Edythe," Archie growled.
Her voice lashed back like a whip. "I didn't make any oaths, either."
Her face was at my throat, and I couldn't feel anything besides the fire, but I could hear the quiet sound of her teeth cutting through my skin.

[السسسيم]

السلام عليكم ورحمة الله وبركاته
انتهى الفصل الثاني و العشرين من الكتاب و المسمى
ب"اختيار"

[السسسيم]

Change
I ENDED UP CHANGING MY MIND.
The fire in my arm wasn't really so bad—the worst thing I'd ever felt up to that point, yes. But not the same as my entire body on fire.
I begged her to make it stop. I told her that this was really all I wanted. For the burning to stop. Nothing else.
I heard Archie telling her that everyone had said the same thing—reminding her that she'd begged Carine to kill her, too. Telling her my first decision was the one that counted.
I remember at one point screaming at him to shut up.
I think he apologized.
But mostly it was hard to pay attention to what was happening outside the fire. I know they moved me. It seemed like I was on the bloody, vomit-covered wood floor for a long time, but it was hard to judge how the minutes passed. Sometimes Carine would say something and it would feel like a year had passed before Archie answered her, but it was probably just the fire that made the seconds into years.
And then someone carried me. I saw the sun for another year-long second—it looked pale and cool. Then everything was dark. It was dark for a long time.
I could still see Edythe. She held me in her arms, my face near hers, one of her hands on my cheek. Archie was nearby, too. I think he had my legs.
When I screamed, she apologized, over and over again. I tried not to scream. It didn't do any good. There was no relief, no release in it. The fire didn't care what I did. It just burned.
When my eyes were in focus, I could see dim lights moving across Edythe's face, though all around her head it was just black. Aside from her voice and mine, the only sound was a deep, constant thrumming. Sometimes it got louder, and then it was quiet again.
I didn't realize I was back in the black car until it stopped. I didn't hear the door open, but the sudden flash of light was blinding. I must have recoiled from it, because Edythe crooned in my ear.
"We're just stopping to refill the gas tank. We'll be home soon, Beau. You're doing so well. This will be over soon. I am so sorry."
I couldn't feel her hand against my face—it should have been cool, but nothing was cool anymore. I tried to reach for it, but I couldn't exactly tell what my limbs were doing. I think I was thrashing some, but Edythe and Archie kept me contained. Edythe guessed what I wanted. She grabbed my hand and held it to her lips. I wished I could feel it. I tried to grip her hand without knowing how to make the muscles move, or being able to feel them. Maybe I got it right. She didn't let go.
It got darker. Eventually, I couldn't see her anymore. It was black as ink inside the car—there was no difference between having my eyes open or closed. I started to panic. The fire made the night like a sensory deprivation chamber; I couldn't feel anything but pain—not the seat beneath me, not Archie restraining my legs, not Edythe holding my head, my hand. I was all alone with the burning, and I was terrified.
I don't know what I must have gasped out—my voice was totally gone now, either raw from screaming or burned past usability, I couldn't gues which—but Edythe's voice was in my ear again.
"I'm right here, Beau. You're not alone. I won't leave you. I will be here. Listen to my voice. I'm here with you...."
Her voice calmed me—made the panic go away, if not the pain. I listened, keeping my breathing shallow so I could hear her better. I didn't need to scream anymore. The burning only got more and never less, but I was adapting. It was all I could feel, but not all I could think about.
"I never wanted this for you, Beau," Edythe continued. "I would give anything to take this away. I've made so many mistakes. I should have stayed away from you, from the first day. I should never have come back again. I've destroyed your life, I've taken everything from you...." It sounded like she was sobbing again.

"No," I tried to say, but I'm not sure if I even shaped the word with my mouth.
"He's probably far enough along that he'll remember this," Archie said softly.
"I hope so," Edythe said, her voice breaking.
"I'm just saying, you might use the time more productively. There is so much he doesn't know."
"You're right, you're right." She sighed. "Where do I begin?"
"You could explain about being thirsty," Archie suggested. "That was the hardest part, when I first woke up. And we'll be expecting a lot from him."
When Edythe answered, it was like she was spitting the words through her teeth. "I won't hold him to that. He didn't choose this. He's free to become whatever he wants to be."
"Hah," Archie said. "You know him better than that, Edythe. The other way won't be good enough for him. Do you see? He'll be fine."
It was quiet while she tuned in to whatever Archie was seeing inside his head. Though I understood the silence, it still left me alone in the fire. I started panicking again.
"I'm here, Beau, I'm here. Don't be afraid." She took a deep breath. "I'll keep talking. There are so many things to tell you. The first one is that when this passes, when you're... new, you won't be exactly the same as I am, not in the very beginning. Being a young vampire means certain things, and the hardest to ignore is the thirst. You'll be thirsty—all the time. You won't be able to think about much else for a while. Maybe a year, maybe two. It's different for everyone. As soon as this is over, I'll take you hunting. You wanted to see that, didn't you? We'll bring Eleanor so you can see her bear impression—" She laughed once, a damaged little sound. "If you decide—if you want to live like us, it will be hard. Especially in the beginning. It might be too hard, and I understand that. We all do. If you want to try it my way, I'll go with you. I can tell you who the human monsters are. There are options. Whatever you want. If... if you don't want me with you, I'll understand that, too, Beau. I swear I won't follow you if you tell me not to—"
"No," I gasped. I heard myself that time, so I knew I'd done it right.
"You don't have to make any more decisions now. There's time for that. Just know that I will respect any decision you make." She took another deep breath. "I should probably warn you about your eyes. They won't be blue anymore." Another half-sob. "But don't let them frighten you. They won't stay so bright for long.
"I suppose that's a very small thing, though.... I should focus on the most important things. The hard things—the very worst thing. Oh, I'm so sorry, Beau. You can't see your father or mother again. It's not safe. You would hurt them—you wouldn't be able to help yourself. And... there are rules. Rules that, as your creator, I'm bound by. We'd both be held responsible if you ran out of control. Oh—" Her breath caught. "There's so much he doesn't know, Archie."
"We've got time, Edythe. Just relax. Take it slow."
I heard her inhale again.
"The rules," she said. "One rule with a thousand different permutations—the reality of vampires must be kept secret. That means newborn vampires must be controlled. I will teach you—I'll keep you safe, I promise." Another sigh. "And you can't tell anyone what you are. I broke that rule. I didn't think it could hurt you—that anyone would ever find out. I should have known that just being near you would eventually destroy you. I should have known I would ruin your life—that I was lying to myself about any other path being possible. I've done everything wrong—"
"You're letting self-castigation get in the way of information again, Edythe."
"Right, right." A deep breath. "Beau. Do you remember the painting in Carine's study—the nighttime patrons of the arts I told you about? They're called the Volturi—they are... for the lack of a better word, the police of our world. I'll tell you more about them in a bit—you just need to know that they exist, so that I can explain why you can't tell Charlie or your mother where you are. You can't talk to them again, Beau." Her voice was straining higher, like it was about to fracture. "It's best... we don't have much choice but to let them think you're dead. I'm so sorry. You didn't even get to say goodbye. It's not fair!"
There was a long pause while I could hear her breath hitching.
"Why don't you go back to the Volturi?" Archie suggested. "Keep emotion out of it."
"You're right," she repeated in a whisper. "Ready to learn a new world history, Beau?"
She talked all night without a break, until the sun came up and I could see her face again. She told me stories that sounded like dark fairy tales. I was beginning to grasp the edges of how big this world was, but I knew it would be a long time before I totally comprehended the size of it.
She told me about the people I'd seen in the painting with Carine—the Volturi. How they'd joined forces during the Mycenaean age, and begun a millennia-long campaign to create peace and order in the vampire world. How there had been six of them in the beginning. How betrayal and murder had cut them in half. Someone named Aro had murdered his sister—his best friend's wife. The best friend was Marcus—he was the man I'd seen standing with Carine. Aro's own wife—Sulpicia, the one with all the masses of dark hair in the painting—had been the only witness. She'd turned him over to Marcus and their soldiers. There had been some question of what to do—Aro had a very powerful extra gift, like what Edythe had, but more, she said—and the Volturi weren't sure they'd be able to succeed without him. But Sulpicia searched out a young girl—Mele, the one Edythe had called a servant and a thief—who had a gift of her own. She could absorb another vampire's gift. She couldn't use that stolen gift herself, but she could give it to someone else who she was touching. Sulpicia had Mele take Aro's gift, and then Marcus executed him. Once she had her husband's gift, Sulpicia found out that the third man in their group was in on the plot. He was executed, too, and his wife—Athenodora—joined with Sulpicia and Marcus to lead their soldiers. They overthrew the vampires who terrorized Europe, and then the ones who enslaved Egypt. Once they were in charge, they made regulations that kept the vampire world hidden and safe.
I listened as much as I could. It wasn't a distraction from the pain—there was no escape. But it was better to think about than the fire.
Edythe said the Volturi were the ones who'd made up all the stories about crosses and holy water and mirrors. Over the centuries, they made all reports of vampires into myth. And now they continued to keep it that way. Vampires would stay in the shadows... or there would be consequences.
So I couldn't go to my dad's house and let him see the eyes that Edythe said would be bright. I couldn't drive to Florida and hug my mom and let her know that I wasn't dead. I couldn't even call her and explain the confusing message I'd left on her answering machine. If there was anything in the news, if any rumor spread that something unnatural was involved, the Volturi soldiers might come to investigate.
I had to disappear quietly.
The fire hurt more than hearing these things. But I knew that wouldn't always be the way it was. Soon, this would hurt the most.
Edythe moved on quickly—telling me about their friends in Canada who lived the same way. Three blond Russian brothers and two Spanish vampires who were the Cullens' closest family. She told me that two of them had extra powers—Kirill could do something electrical, and Elena knew the talents of every vampire she met.
She told me about other friends, all over the world. In Ireland and Brazil and Egypt. So many names. Eventually Archie stepped in again and told her to prioritize.
Edythe told me that I would never age. That I would always be seventeen, like she was. That the world would change around me, and I would remember all of it, never forgetting one second.
She told me how the Cullens lived—how they moved from cloudy place to cloudy place. Earnest would restore a house for them. Archie would invest their assets with amazingly good returns. They would decide on a story to explain their relationships to each other, and Jessamine would create new names and new documented pasts for each of them. Carine would take a job in a hospital with her new credentials, or she'd return to school to study a new field. If the location looked promising, the younger Cullens would pretend to be even younger than they were, so they could stay longer.
After my time as a new vampire was up, I would be able to go back to school. But my education wouldn't have to wait. I had a lot of time ahead of me, and I would remember everything I read or heard.
I would never sleep again.
Food would be disgusting to me. I would never be hungry again, only thirsty.
I would never get sick. I would never feel tired.
I would be able to run faster than a race car. I'd be stronger than any other living species on the planet.
I wouldn't need to breathe.
I would be able to see more clearly, hear even the smallest sound.
My heart would finish beating tomorrow or the next day, and it would never beat again.
I would be a vampire.
One good thing about the burning—it let me hear all this with some distance. It let me process what she was telling me without emotion. I knew the emotion would come later.
When it was starting to get dark again, our journey was over. Edythe carried me into the house like I was a child, and sat with me in the big room. The background behind her face went from black to white. I could see her much more clearly now, and I didn't think it was just the light.
In her eyes, my face reflected back, and I was surprised to see that it looked like a face and not a charcoal briquette—though a face in anguish. Still, maybe I wasn't the pile of ash I felt like.
She told me stories to fill the time, and the others took turns helping her. Carine sat on the ground next to me and told me the most amazing story about Jules's family—that her great-grandmother had actually been a werewolf. All the things Jules had scoffed about were straight history. Carine told me she'd promised them she would never bite another human. It was part of the treaty between them, the treaty that meant the Cullens could never go due west to the ocean.
Jessamine told me her story after all. I guess she'd decided I was ready now. I was glad, when she did, that my emotions were mostly buried under the fire. She'd lost family, too, when the man who created her stole her without warning. She told me about the army she'd belonged to, a life of carnage and death, and then breaking free. She told me about the day Archie had let her find him.
Earnest told me how his life had ended before he'd killed himself, about his unstable, alcoholic wife and the daughter he'd loved more than his own soul. He told me about the night when his wife, in a drunken rampage, had jumped off a cliff with his little daughter in her arms, and how he hadn't been able to do anything but follow after them. Then he told me how, after the pain, there had been the most beautiful woman in a nurse's uniform—a nurse he recognized from a happier time in another place when he was just a young man. A nurse who hadn't aged at all.
Eleanor told me about being attacked by a bear, and then seeing an angel who took her to Carine instead of to heaven. She told me how she'd thought at first she'd been sent to hell—justly, she admitted—and then how she got into heaven after all.
She was the one who told me that the redhead had gotten away. He'd never come near Charlie after the one time that he'd searched Charlie's house. When we'd all gotten back to Forks, she, Royal, and Jessamine had followed the man's trail as far as they could; it disappeared into the Salish Sea and they hadn't been able to find the place where he came back out. For all they knew, he'd swum straight out to the Pacific and on to another continent. He must have assumed that Joss had lost the fight and realized it was smarter to disappear.
Even Royal took a turn. He told me about a life consumed with vanity, with material things, with ambition. He told me about the only daughter of a powerful man—exactly what kind of power this man wielded, Royal hadn't entirely understood—and how Royal had planned to marry her and become heir to the dynasty. How the beautiful daughter pretended to love him to please her father, and then how she had watched when her lover from a rival criminal syndicate had Royal beaten to death, how she'd laughed aloud the whole time. He told me about the revenge he'd gotten. Royal was the least careful with his words. He told me about losing his family, and how none of this was worth what he'd lost.
Edythe had whispered Eleanor's name; he'd growled once and left.
I think it must have been while Royal or Eleanor was talking that Archie watched Joss's video from the dance studio. When Royal was gone, Archie took his spot. At first I wasn't sure what they were talking about, because only Edythe was speaking out loud, but eventually I caught up. Archie was searching right there on his laptop, trying to narrow down the options of where he'd been kept in his human life. I was glad he didn't seem to mention anything else about the tape—the focus was all on his past. I was trying to remember how to use my voice so that I could stop him if he tried to say anything about the rest of it. I hoped Archie was smart enough to have destroyed the tape before Edythe could watch.
The stories helped me think of other things, prepare myself, while the fire burned, but I was only able to pay partial attention. My mind was cataloguing the fire, experiencing it in new ways. It was amazing how each inch of my skin, each millimeter, was so distinct. It was like I could feel all my cells burning individually. I could feel the difference between the pain in the walls of my lungs, and the way the fire felt in the soles of my feet, inside my eyeballs, and down my spine. All the different agonies clearly separated.
I could hear my heart thudding—it seemed so loud. Like it had been hooked to an amp. I could hear other things, too. Mostly Edythe's voice, sometimes the others talking—though I couldn't see them. I heard music once, but I didn't know where it was coming from.
It seemed like I was on the couch, my head in Edythe's lap, for several years. The lights stayed bright, so I didn't know if it was night or day. But Edythe's eyes were always gold, so I guessed that the fire was lying about the time again.
I was so aware of every nerve ending in my body that I knew it immediately when something changed.
It started with my toes. I couldn't feel them. It seemed like the fire had finally won, that it had started burning off pieces of me. Edythe had said I was changing, not dying, but in this moment of panic I thought she'd gotten it wrong. Maybe this vampire thing wouldn't work on me. Maybe all this burning had been just a slow way to die. The worst way.
Edythe felt me freaking out again, and she started humming in my ear. I tried to look at the positives. If it was killing me, at least it would be over. And if it was going to end, at least I was in Edythe's arms for the rest of my life.
And then I realized that my toes were still there, they just weren't burning anymore. In fact, the fire was pulling out of the soles of my feet, too. I was glad I'd made sense of what was happening, because my fingertips were next. No need for more panic, maybe a reason for hope. The fire was leaving.
Only it seemed to be doing more than leaving—it was... moving. All the fire that receded from my extremities seemed to be draining into the center of my body, stoking the blaze there so that it was hotter than before.
I couldn't believe there was such a thing as hotter.
My heart—already so loud—starting beating faster. The core of the fire seemed to be centered there. It was sucking the flames in from my hands and my ankles, leaving them pain-free, but multiplying the heat and pain in my heart.
"Carine," Edythe called.
Carine walked into the room, and the amazing part about that was that I heard her. Edythe and her family never made any noise when they moved. But now, if I listened, I could hear the low sound of Carine's lips brushing together as she spoke.
"Ah. It's almost over."
I wanted to be relieved, but the growing agony in my chest made it impossible to feel anything else. I stared up at Edythe's face. She was more beautiful than she had ever been, because I could see her better than I ever had. But I couldn't really appreciate her. So much pain.
"Edythe?" I gasped.
"You're all right, Beau. It's ending. I'm sorry, I know. I remember."
The fire ripped hotter through my heart, dragging the flames up from my elbows and knees. I thought about Edythe going through this, suffering this way, and it put a different perspective on my pain. She didn't even know Carine then. She didn't know what was happening to her. She hadn't been held the whole time in the arms of someone she loved.
The pain was almost gone from everywhere but my chest. The only leftover was my throat, but it was a different kind of burn now... drier... irritating....
I heard more footsteps, and I was pretty sure I could tell the difference between them. The decisive, confident step was Eleanor, I was positive. Archie was the quicker, more rhythmic motion. Earnest was a little slower, thoughtful. Jessamine was the one who stopped by the door. I thought I heard Royal breathing behind her.
And then—
"Aaah!"
My heart took off, beating like helicopter blades, the sound almost a single sustained note. It felt like it would grind through my ribs. The fire flared up in the center of my chest, sucking all the flames from the rest of my body to fuel the most painful burn yet. It was enough to stun me. My body bowed like the fire was dragging me upward by my heart.
It felt like a war inside me—my racing heart blitzing against the raging fire. They were both losing.
The fire constricted tighter, concentrating into one fist-sized ball of pain with a final, unbearable surge. The surge was answered by a deep, hollow-sounding thud. My heart stuttered twice, then thudded quietly again one more time.
There was no sound. No breathing. Not even mine.
For a second, all I could process was the absence of pain. The dull, dry afterburn in my throat was easy to ignore, because every other part of me felt amazing. The release was an incredible high.
I stared up at Edythe in wonder. I felt like I'd taken off a blindfold I'd been wearing all my life. What a view.
"Beau?" she asked. Now that I could really concentrate on it, the beauty of her voice was unreal.
"It's disorienting, I know. You get used to it."
Could you get used to hearing a voice like this? Seeing a face like that?
"Edythe," I said, and the sound of my own voice jolted me. Was that me? It didn't sound like me. It didn't sound... human.
Unnerved, I reached out to touch her cheek. In the same instant that the desire to touch her entered my mind, my hand was cradling the side of her face. There was no in-between—no process of lifting my hand, watching it move to its destination. It was just there.
"Huh."
She leaned into my touch, put her hand over mine, and held it against her face. It was strange because it was familiar—I'd always loved it when she'd done that, to see that she so obviously liked it when I touched her that way, that it meant something to her. But it was also nothing the same. Her face wasn't cold anymore. Her hand felt right against mine. There was no difference between us now.
I stared into her eyes, then looked closer at the picture reflected in them.
"Ahh..." A little gasp escaped my throat by accident, and I felt my body lock down in surprise. It was weird—it felt like the natural thing to do, to be a statue because I was shocked.
"What is it, Beau?" She leaned closer, concerned, but that just brought the reflection closer.
"The eyes?" I breathed.
She sighed, and wrinkled her nose. "It goes away," she promised. "I terrified myself every time I looked in a mirror for six months."
"Six months," I murmured. "And then they'll be gold like yours?"
She looked away, over the back of the couch, to someone standing there behind us where I couldn't see. I wanted to sit up and look around, but I was a little afraid to move. My body felt so strange.
"That depends on your diet, Beau," Carine said calmly. "If you hunt like we do, your eyes will eventually turn this color. If not, your eyes will look like Lauren's did."
I decided to try sitting up.

[السسسيم]

And like before, thinking was doing. Without any movement, I was upright. Edythe kept my hand in hers as it left her face.
Behind the sofa, they were all there, watching. I'd been one hundred percent with my guesses—Carine closest, then Eleanor, Archie, and Earnest. Jessamine in the doorway to another room with Royal watching over her shoulder.
I looked at their faces, shocked again. If my brain hadn't been so much... roomier than before, I would have forgotten what I was about to say. As it was, I recovered pretty fast.
"No, I want to do it your way," I said to Carine. "That's the right thing to do."
Carine smiled. It would have knocked the breath out of me if I'd had to breathe.
"If only it were so easy. But that's a noble choice. We'll help you all we can."
Edythe touched my arm. "We should hunt now, Beau. It will make your throat hurt less."
When she mentioned my throat, the dry burn there was suddenly at the forefront of my mind. I swallowed. But...
"Hunt?" my new voice asked. "I, uh, well, I've never been hunting before. Not even like normal hunting with rifles, so I don't really think I could... I mean, I have no idea how...."
Eleanor chuckled under her breath.
Edythe smiled. "I'll show you. It's very easy, very natural. Didn't you want to see me hunt?"
"Just us?" I checked.
She looked confused for a fraction of a second, and then her face was smooth. "Of course. Whatever you want. Come with me, Beau."
And she was on her feet, still holding my hand. Then I was on my feet, too, and it was so simple to move, I wondered why I'd been afraid to try. Anything I wanted this body to do, it did.
She darted to the back wall of the big room—the glass wall that was a mirror now because it was night outside. I saw the two pale figures flashing by and I stopped. The strange thing was that when I stopped, it was so sudden that Edythe kept going, still holding my hand, and though she was still pulling, I didn't move. My grip on her hand pulled her back. Like it was nothing.
But I was only noticing that with part of my brain. Mostly I was looking at my reflection.
I'd seen my face warped around the convex shape of her eyes, just the center, lacking the edges. I'd only really seen my eyes—brilliant, almost glowing red—and that had been enough to pull my focus. Now I saw my whole face—my neck, my arms.
If someone had cut an outline of my human self, this version would still fit into that space. But though I took up the same volume, all the angles were different. Harder, more pronounced. Like someone had made an ice sculpture of me and left the edges sharp.
My eyes—it was hard to look around the color, but the shape of them, too, seemed different. So vaguely, like I was remembering something I'd seen only through muddy water—I remembered how my eyes used to look. Undecided. Like I was never sure who I was. Then, after Edythe—still so hard to see in my memory, uncomfortable to try—they were suddenly more resolved.
These eyes had gone one step further than resolved—they were savage. If I walked into this self in a dark alley, I would be terrified of me.
Which was the point, I guess. People were supposed to be afraid of me now.
I still wore my bloodstained jeans, but I had an unfamiliar, pale blue shirt on. I didn't remember that happening, but I could understand; vampire or human, no one wanted to hang around with someone drenched in vomit.
"Whoa," I said. I locked eyes with Edythe in the reflection.
This was strange, too. Because the Beau in the mirror looked... right next to Edythe. Like he belonged. Not like before, when people could only imagine that she was taking pity on me.
"It's a lot," she said.
I took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay."
She pulled on my hand again, and I followed. Before a fourth of a second had passed, we were through the glass doors behind the stairs and on the back lawn.
There were no moon and no stars—the clouds were too thick. It should have been pitch-black outside the rectangle of light shining through the glass wall, but it wasn't. I could see everything.
"Whoa," I said again. "That is so cool."
Edythe looked at me like she was surprised by my reaction. Had she forgotten what it was like the first time she saw the world through vampire eyes? I thought she'd said I wouldn't forget things anymore.
"We're going to have to go a ways out into the woods," she told me. "Just in case."
I remembered the gist of what she'd told me about hunting. "Right. So there aren't any people around. Got it."
Again—that same surprised look flashed across her face and then was gone.
"Follow me," she said.
She whipped down the lawn so fast that I knew she would have been invisible to my old eyes. Then, at the edge of the river, she launched herself into a high arc that spun her over the river and into the trees beyond.
"Really?" I called after her.
I heard her laugh. "I promise, it's easy."
Great.
I sighed, then started running.
Running had never been my forte. I was all right on a flat track, if I was paying enough attention and I kept my eyes on my feet. Okay, honestly, even then I was still able to tangle my feet up and go down.
This was so different. I was flying—flying down the lawn, faster than I'd ever moved, but it was only too simple to put my feet exactly where they were supposed to go. I could feel all of my muscles, almost see the connections as they worked together, will them to do exactly what I needed. When I got to the edge of the river I didn't even pause. I pushed off the same rock she'd used, and then I was really flying. The river slipped away behind me as I rocketed through the air. I passed where she'd landed and then fell down into the wood.
I felt an instant of panic when I realized I hadn't even considered the landing, but then my hand already seemed to know how to catch a thick branch and angle my body so that my feet hit the ground with barely a sound.
"Holy crow," I breathed in total disbelief.
I heard Edythe running through the trees, and already her gait was as familiar to me as the sound of my own breathing. I was sure I could tell the difference between the sound of her footfalls and anyone else's.
"We have to do that again!" I said as soon as I saw her.
She paused a few feet away from me, and a frustrated expression that I knew well crossed her face.
I laughed. "What do you want to know? I'll tell you what I'm thinking."
She frowned. "I don't understand. You're... in a very good mood."
"Oh. Is that wrong?"
"Aren't you incredibly thirsty?"
I swallowed against the burn. It was bad, but not as bad as the rest of the fire I'd just left behind. The thirst-burn was always there, and it got worse when I focused on it, but there were so many other things to focus on. "Yes, when I think about it."
Edythe squared her shoulders. "If you want to do this first, that's fine, too."
I looked at her. I was obviously missing something. "Do this? Do what?"
She stared at me for a second, her eyes doubtful. Suddenly she threw her hands up. "You know, I really thought that when your mind was more similar to mine, I'd be able to hear it. I guess that's never going to happen."
"Sorry."
She laughed, but there was an unhappy note in the sound. "Honestly, Beau."
"Can you please give me a clue as to what we're talking about?"
"You wanted us to be alone," she said, like this was an explanation.
"Uh, yeah."
"Because you had some things you wanted to say to me?" She braced her shoulders again, tensing like she was expecting something bad.
"Oh. Well, I guess there are things to say. I mean, there's one important thing, but I wasn't thinking about that." Seeing how frustrated she was by whatever misunderstanding was happening, I was totally honest. "I wanted to be alone with you because... well, I didn't want to be rude, but I also didn't want to do this hunting thing in front of Eleanor," I confessed. "I figured there was a good chance I would screw something up, and I don't know Eleanor all that well yet, but I have a feeling she would find that pretty funny."
Her eyes got wide. "You were afraid Eleanor would laugh at you? Really, that's all?"
"Really. Your turn, Edythe. What did you think was happening?"
She hesitated. "I thought you were being a gentleman. I thought you preferred to yell at me alone rather than in front of my family."
I froze up again. I wondered if that was going to happen every time I was surprised. It took me a second to thaw out.
"Yell at you?" I repeated. "Edythe—oh! You're talking about all that stuff you were saying in the car, right? Sorry about that, I—"
"Sorry? What on earth are you apologizing for now, Beau Swan?"
She looked angry. Angry and so beautiful. I couldn't guess why she was worked up. I shrugged. "I wanted to tell you then, but I couldn't. I mean, I couldn't even really concentrate—"
"Of course you couldn't concentrate—"
"Edythe!" I crossed the space between us in one invisibly fast stride and put my hands on her shoulders. "You'll never know what I'm thinking if you keep interrupting me."
The anger on her face faded as she deliberately calmed herself. Then she nodded.
"Okay," I said. "In the car—I wanted to tell you then that you didn't need to apologize, I felt horrible that you were so sad. This isn't your fault—"
She started to say something, so I put my finger over her lips.
"And it isn't all bad," I continued. "I'm... well, my head is still spinning and I know there are a million things to think about and I'm sad, of course, but I'm also good, Edythe. I'm always good when I'm with you."
She stared at me for a long minute. Slowly, she raised her hand to pull my finger away from her mouth. I didn't stop her.
"You aren't angry at me for what I've done to you?" she asked quietly.
"Edythe, you saved my life! Again. Why would I be angry? Because of the way you saved it? What else could you have done?"
She exhaled, almost like she was mad again. "How can you...? Beau, you have to see that this is all my fault. I haven't saved your life, I've taken it from you. Charlie—Renée—"
I put my finger over her mouth again, and then took a deep breath. "Yes. It's hard, and it's going to be hard for a long time. Maybe forever, right? But why would I put that on you? Joss is the one who... well, who killed me. You brought me back to life."
She pushed my hand down. "If I hadn't involved you in my world—"
I laughed, and she looked up at me like I'd lost my mind. "Edythe—if you hadn't involved me in your world, Charlie and Renée would have lost me three months earlier."
She stared, frowning. It was obvious she wasn't accepting any of this.
"Do you remember what I said when you saved my life in Port Angeles? The second time, or third." I barely did. The words were easier to bring back than the images. I knew it went something like this. "That you were messing with fate because my number was up? Well... if I had to die, Edythe... isn't this the most amazing way to do it?"
A long minute passed while she stared at me, and then she shook her head. "Beau, you are amazing."
"I guess I am now."
"You always have been."
I didn't say anything, and my face gave me away. Or she was just that good. She knew my face so well, she spent so much time trying so hard to understand me, that she knew immediately when there was something I wasn't saying.
"What is it, Beau?"
"Just... something Joss said." I winced. Though it was hard to see things in my old memory, the dance studio was the most recent, the most vivid.
Edythe's jaw got hard. "She said a lot of things," she hissed.
"Oh." Suddenly I wanted to punch something. But I also didn't want to let go of Edythe to do that. "You saw the tape."
Her face was totally white. Furious and agonized at the same time. "Yes, I saw the tape."
"When? I didn't hear—"
"Headphones."
"I wish you hadn't—"
She shook her head. "I had to. But forget that now. Which lie were you thinking of?" She spit the words through her teeth.
It took me a minute. "You didn't want me to be a vampire."
"No, I absolutely did not."
"So that part wasn't a lie. And you've been so upset.... I know you feel bad about Charlie and my mom, but I guess I'm worried that part of it is because, well, you didn't expect to have me around very long, you weren't planning for that—" Her mouth flew open so fast that I put my whole hand over it. "Because if that's what it is, don't worry. If you want me to go away after a while, I can. You can show me what to do so I won't get either of us in trouble. I don't expect you to put up with me forever. You didn't choose this any more than I did. I want you to know that I'm aware of that."
She waited for me to move my hand. I did it slowly. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear what was next.
She growled softly and flashed her teeth at me—not in a smile.
"You're lucky I didn't bite you," she said. "The next time you put your hand on my mouth to say something so completely idiotic—and insulting—I will."
"Sorry."
She closed her eyes. Her arms wrapped around my waist and she leaned her head against my chest. My arms wound around her automatically. She tilted her face up so that she could look at me.
"I want you to listen to me very carefully, Beau. This—having you with me, getting to keep you here—it's like I've been granted every selfish wish I've ever had. But the price for everything I want was to take the exact same thing away from you. All of your life. I'm angry with myself, I'm disappointed in myself. And I wish so much that I could bring that tracker back to life so that I could kill her myself, over and over and over again....
"The reason I didn't want you to be a vampire wasn't because you weren't special enough—it was because you are too special and you deserve more. I wanted you to have what we all miss—a human life. But you have to know, if it were only about me, if there were no price for you to pay, then tonight would be the best night of my life. I've been staring forever in the face for a century, and tonight is the very first time it's looked beautiful to me. Because of you.
"Don't you ever again think that I don't want you. I will always want you. I don't deserve you, but I will always love you. Are we clear?"
It was obvious that she was being totally sincere. Truth echoed in every word.
A huge grin spread across my new face. "So that's okay, then."
She smiled back. "I'd say so."
"That was the one important thing I wanted to say—just, I love you. I always will. I knew that from pretty early in. So, with that being how things are, I think we can work the rest out."
I held her face in my hands and bent down to kiss her. Like everything else, this was so easy now. Nothing to worry about, no hesitation.
It felt strange, though, that my heart wasn't beating out a crazy drum solo, that the blood wasn't stampeding through my veins. But something was zinging through me like electricity, every nerve in my body alive. More than alive—like all of my cells were rejoicing. I only wanted to hold her like this and I would need nothing else for the next hundred years.
But she broke away, and she was laughing. This time her laugh was full of joy. It sounded like singing.
"How are you doing this?" she laughed. "You're supposed to be a newborn vampire and here you are, discussing the future calmly with me, smiling at me, kissing me! You're supposed to be thirsty and nothing else."
"I'm a lot of else," I said. "But I am pretty thirsty, now that you mention it."
She leaned up on her toes and kissed me once, hard. "I love you. Let's go hunt."
We ran together into the darkness that wasn't dark, and I was unafraid. This would be easy, I knew, just like everything else.