as always — and I would be in his marble arms, finally safe.
I wondered where we would have gone. North somewhere, so he could be
outside in the day. Or maybe somewhere very remote, so we could lay in
the sun together again. I imagined him by the shore, his skin sparkling
like the sea. It wouldn't matter how long we had to hide. To be trapped
in a hotel room with him would be a kind of heaven. So many questions I
still had for him. I could talk to him forever, never sleeping, never
leaving his side.
I could see his face so clearly now… almost hear his voice. And, despite
all the horror and hopelessness, I was fleetingly happy. So involved was
I in my escapist daydreams, I lost all track of the seconds racing by.
"Hey, what was the number?"
The cabbie's question punctured my fantasy, letting all the colors run
out of my lovely delusions. Fear, bleak and hard, was waiting to fill the
empty space they left behind.
"Fifty-eight twenty-one." My voice sounded strangled. The cabbie looked
at me, nervous that I was having an episode or something.
"Here we are, then." He was anxious to get me out of his car, probably
hoping I wouldn't ask for my change.
"Thank you," I whispered. There was no need to be afraid, I reminded
myself. The house was empty. I had to hurry; my mom was waiting for me,
frightened, depending on me.
I ran to the door, reaching up automatically to grab the key under the
eave. I unlocked the door. It was dark inside, empty, normal. I ran to
the phone, turning on the kitchen light on my way. There, on the
whiteboard, was a ten-digit number written in a small, neat hand. My
fingers stumbled over the keypad, making mistakes. I had to hang up and
start again. I concentrated only on the buttons this time, carefully
pressing each one in turn. I was successful. I held the phone to my ear
with a shaking hand. It rang only once.
"Hello, Bella," that easy voice answered. "That was very quick. I'm
impressed."
"Is my mom all right?"
"She's perfectly fine. Don't worry, Bella, I have no quarrel with her.
Unless you didn't come alone, of course." Light, amused.
"I'm alone." I'd never been more alone in my entire life.
"Very good. Now, do you know the ballet studio just around the corner
from your home?"
"Yes. I know how to get there."
"Well, then, I'll see you very soon."
I hung up.
I ran from the room, through the door, out into the baking heat.
There was no time to look back at my house, and I didn't want to see it
as it was now — empty, a symbol of fear instead of sanctuary. The last
person to walk through those familiar rooms was my enemy.
From the corner of my eye, I could almost see my mother standing in the
shade of the big eucalyptus tree where I'd played as a child. Or kneeling
by the little plot of dirt around the mailbox, the cemetery of all the
flowers she'd tried to grow. The memories were better than any reality I
would see today. But I raced away from them, toward the corner, leaving
everything behind me.
I felt so slow, like I was running through wet sand — I couldn't seem to
get enough purchase from the concrete. I tripped several times, once
falling, catching myself with my hands, scraping them on the sidewalk,
and then lurching up to plunge forward again. But at last I made it to
the corner. Just another street now; I ran, sweat pouring down my face,
gasping. The sun was hot on my skin, too bright as it bounced off the
white concrete and blinded me. I felt dangerously exposed. More fiercely
than I would have dreamed I was capable of, I wished for the green,
protective forests of Forks… of home.
When I rounded the last corner, onto Cactus, I could see the studio,
looking just as I remembered it. The parking lot in front was empty, the
vertical blinds in all the windows drawn. I couldn't run anymore — I
couldn't breathe; exertion and fear had gotten the best of me. I thought
of my mother to keep my feet moving, one in front of the other.
As I got closer, I could see the sign inside the door. It was handwritten
on hot pink paper; it said the dance studio was closed for spring break.
I touched the handle, tugged on it cautiously. It was unlocked. I fought
to catch my breath, and opened the door.
The lobby was dark and empty, cool, the air conditioner thrumming. The
plastic molded chairs were stacked along the walls, and the carpet
smelled like shampoo. The west dance floor was dark, I could see through
the open viewing window. The east dance floor, the bigger room, was lit.
But the blinds were closed on the window.
Terror seized me so strongly that I was literally trapped by it. I
couldn't make my feet move forward.
And then my mother's voice called.
"Bella? Bella?" That same tone of hysterical panic. I sprinted to the
door, to the sound of her voice.
"Bella, you scared me! Don't you ever do that to me again!" Her voice
continued as I ran into the long, high-ceilinged room.
I stared around me, trying to find where her voice was coming from. I
heard her laugh, and I whirled to the sound.
There she was, on the TV screen, tousling my hair in relief. It was
Thanksgiving, and I was twelve. We'd gone to see my grandmother in
California, the last year before she died. We went to the beach one day,
and I'd leaned too far over the edge of the pier. She'd seen my feet
flailing, trying to reclaim my balance. "Bella? Bella?" she'd called to
me in fear.
And then the TV screen was blue.
I turned slowly. He was standing very still by the back exit, so still I
hadn't noticed him at first. In his hand was a remote control. We stared
at each other for a long moment, and then he smiled.
He walked toward me, quite close, and then passed me to put the remote
down next to the VCR. I turned carefully to watch him.
"Sorry about that, Bella, but isn't it better that your mother didn't
really have to be involved in all this?" His voice was courteous, kind.
And suddenly it hit me. My mother was safe. She was still in Florida.
She'd never gotten my message. She'd never been terrified by the dark red
eyes in the abnormally pale face before me. She was safe.
"Yes," I answered, my voice saturated with relief.
"You don't sound angry that I tricked you."
"I'm not." My sudden high made me brave. What did it matter now? It would
soon be over. Charlie and Mom would never be harmed, would never have to
fear. I felt almost giddy. Some analytical part of my mind warned me that
I was dangerously close to snapping from the stress.
"How odd. You really mean it." His dark eyes assessed me with interest.
The irises were nearly black, just a hint of ruby around the edges.
Thirsty. "I will give your strange coven this much, you humans can be
quite interesting. I guess I can see the draw of observing you. It's
amazing — some of you seem to have no sense of your own self-interest at
all."
He was standing a few feet away from me, arms folded, looking at me
curiously. There was no menace in his face or stance. He was so very
average-looking, nothing remarkable about his face or body at all. Just
the white skin, the circled eyes I'd grown so used to. He wore a pale
blue, long-sleeved shirt and faded blue jeans.
"I suppose you're going to tell me that your boyfriend will avenge you?"
he asked, hopefully it seemed to me.
"No, I don't think so. At least, I asked him not to."
"And what was his reply to that?"
"I don't know." It was strangely easy to converse with this genteel
hunter. "I left him a letter."
"How romantic, a last letter. And do you think he will honor it?" His
voice was just a little harder now, a hint of sarcasm marring his polite
tone.
"I hope so."
"Hmmm. Well, our hopes differ then. You see, this was all just a little
too easy, too quick. To be quite honest, I'm disappointed. I expected a
much greater challenge. And, after all, I only needed a little luck."
I waited in silence.
"When Victoria couldn't get to your father, I had her find out more about
you. There was no sense in running all over the planet chasing you down
when I could comfortably wait for you in a place of my choosing. So,
after I talked to Victoria, I decided to come to Phoenix to pay your
mother a visit. I'd heard you say you were going home. At first, I never
dreamed you meant it. But then I wondered. Humans can be very
predictable; they like to be somewhere familiar, somewhere safe. And
wouldn't it be the perfect ploy, to go to the last place you should be
when you're hiding — the place that you said you'd be.
"But of course I wasn't sure, it was just a hunch. I usually get a
feeling about the prey that I'm hunting, a sixth sense, if you will. I
listened to your message when I got to your mother's house, but of course
I couldn't be sure where you'd called from. It was very useful to have
your number, but you could have been in Antarctica for all I knew, and
the game wouldn't work unless you were close by.
"Then your boyfriend got on a plane to Phoenix. Victoria was monitoring
them for me, naturally; in a game with this many players, I couldn't be
working alone. And so they told me what I'd hoped, that you were here
after all. I was prepared; I'd already been through your charming home
movies. And then it was simply a matter of the bluff.
"Very easy, you know, not really up to my standards. So, you see, I'm
hoping you're wrong about your boyfriend. Edward, isn't it?"
I didn't answer. The bravado was wearing off. I sensed that he was coming
to the end of his gloat. It wasn't meant for me anyway. There was no
glory in beating me, a weak human.
"Would you mind, very much, if I left a little letter of my own for your
Edward?"
He took a step back and touched a palm-sized digital video camera
balanced carefully on top of the stereo. A small red light indicated that
it was already running. He adjusted it a few times, widened the frame. I
stared at him in horror.
"I'm sorry, but I just don't think he'll be able to resist hunting me
after he watches this. And I wouldn't want him to miss anything. It was
all for him, of course. You're simply a human, who unfortunately was in
the wrong place, at the wrong time, and indisputably running with the
wrong crowd, I might add."
He stepped toward me, smiling. "Before we begin…"
I felt a curl of nausea in the pit of my stomach as he spoke. This was
something I had not anticipated.
"I would just like to rub it in, just a little bit. The answer was there
all along, and I was so afraid Edward would see that and ruin my fun. It
happened once, oh, ages ago. The one and only time my prey escaped me.
"You see, the vampire who was so stupidly fond of this little victim made
the choice that your Edward was too weak to make. When the old one knew I
was after his little friend, he stole her from the asylum where he worked
— I never will understand the obsession some vampires seem to form with
you humans — and as soon as he freed her he made her safe. She didn't
even seem to notice the pain, poor little creature. She'd been stuck in
that black hole of a cell for so long. A hundred years earlier and she
would have been burned at the stake for her visions. In the
nineteen-twenties it was the asylum and the shock treatments. When she
opened her eyes, strong with her fresh youth, it was like she'd never
seen the sun before. The old vampire made her a strong new vampire, and
there was no reason for me to touch her then." He sighed. "I destroyed
the old one in vengeance."
"Alice," I breathed, astonished.
"Yes, your little friend. I was surprised to see her in the clearing. So
I guess her coven ought to be able to derive some comfort from this
experience. I get you, but they get her. The one victim who escaped me,
quite an honor, actually.
"And she did smell so delicious. I still regret that I never got to
taste… She smelled even better than you do. Sorry — I don't mean to be
offensive. You have a very nice smell. Floral, somehow…"
He took another step toward me, till he was just inches away. He lifted a
lock of my hair and sniffed at it delicately. Then he gently patted the
strand back into place, and I felt his cool fingertips against my throat.
He reached up to stroke my cheek once quickly with his thumb, his face
curious. I wanted so badly to run, but I was frozen. I couldn't even
flinch away.
"No," he murmured to himself as he dropped his hand, "I don't
understand." He sighed. "Well, I suppose we should get on with it. And
then I can call your friends and tell them where to find you, and my
little message."
I was definitely sick now. There was pain coming, I could see it in his
eyes. It wouldn't be enough for him to win, to feed and go. There would
be no quick end like I'd been counting on. My knees began to shake, and I
was afraid I was going to fall.
He stepped back, and began to circle, casually, as if he were trying to
get a better view of a statue in a museum. His face was still open and
friendly as he decided where to start.
Then he slumped forward, into a crouch I recognized, and his pleasant
smile slowly widened, grew, till it wasn't a smile at all but a
contortion of teeth, exposed and glistening.
I couldn't help myself— I tried to run. As useless as I knew it would be,
