Chapter 3 Phenomenon

Truly, I was not thirsty, but I decided to hunt again that night. A small ounce ofprevention, inadequate though I knew it to be.

　　Carlisle came with me; we hadn’t been alone together since I’d returned fromDenali. As we ran through the black forest, I heard him thinking about that hastygoodbye last week.

　　In his memory, I saw the way my features had been twisted in fierce despair. Ifelt his surprise and sudden worry.

　　“Edward?”

　　“I have to go, Carlisle. I have to go now.”

　　“What’s happened?”

　　“Nothing. Yet. But it will, if I stay.”

　　He’d reached for my arm. I felt how it had hurt him when I’d cringed away fromhis hand.

　　“I don’t understand.”

　　“Have you ever…has there ever been a time…”

　　I watched myself take a deep breath, saw the wild light in my eyes through thefilter of his deep concern.

　　“Has any one person ever smelled better to you than the rest of them? Muchbetter?”

　　“Oh.”

　　When I’d known that he understood, my face had fallen with shame. He’dreached out to touch me, ignoring it when I’d recoiled again, and left his hand on myshoulder.

　　“Do what you must to resist, son. I will miss you. Here, take my car. It’sfaster.”

　　He was wondering now if he’d done the right thing then, sending me away.

　　Wondering if he hadn’t hurt me with his lack of trust.

　　 “No,” I whispered as I ran. “That was what I needed. I might so easily havebetrayed that trust, if you’d told me to stay.”

　　“I’m sorry you’re suffering, Edward. But you should do what you can to keep theSwan child alive. Even if it means that you must leave us again.”

　　“I know, I know.”

　　“Why did you come back? You know how happy I am to have you here, but ifthis is too difficult…”

　　“I didn’t like feeling a coward,” I admitted.

　　We’d slowed—we were barely jogging through the darkness now.

　　“Better that than to put her in danger. She’ll be gone in a year or two.”

　　“You’re right, I know that.” Contrarily, though, his words only made me moreanxious to stay. The girl would be gone in a year or two…Carlisle stopped running and I stopped with him; he turned to examine myexpression.

　　But you’re not going to run, are you?

　　I hung my head.

　　Is it pride, Edward? There’s no shame in—“No, it isn’t pride that keeps me here. Not now.”

　　Nowhere to go?

　　I laughed shortly. “No. That wouldn’t stop me, if I could make myself leave.”

　　“We’ll come with you, of course, if that’s what you need. You only have to ask.

　　You’ve moved on without complaint for the rest of them. They won’t begrudge youthis.”

　　I raised one eyebrow.

　　He laughed. “Yes, Rosalie might, but she owes you. Anyway, it’s much betterfor us to leave now, no damage done, than for us to leave later, after a life has beenended.” All humor was gone by the end.

　　I flinched at his words.

　　“Yes,” I agreed. My voice sounded hoarse.

　　But you’re not leaving?

　　I sighed. “I should.”

　　 “What holds you here, Edward? I’m failing to see…”

　　“I don’t know if I can explain.” Even to myself, it made no sense.

　　He measured my expression for a long moment.

　　No, I do not see. But I will respect your privacy, if you prefer.

　　“Thank you. It’s generous of you, seeing as how I give privacy to no one.” Withone exception. And I was doing what I could to deprive her of that, wasn’t I?

　　We all have our quirks. He laughed again. Shall we?

　　He’d just caught the scent of a small herd of deer. It was hard to rally muchenthusiasm for what was, even under the best of circumstances, a less thanmouthwatering aroma. Right now, with the memory of the girl’s blood fresh in my mind,the smell actually turned my stomach.

　　I sighed. “Let’s,” I agreed, though I knew that forcing more blood down mythroat would help so little.

　　We both shifted into a hunting crouch and let the unappealing scent pull ussilently forward.

　　It was colder when we returned home. The melted snow had refrozen; it was as if a thinsheet of glass covered everything—each pine needle, each fern frond, each blade of grasswas iced over.

　　While Carlisle went to dress for his early shift at the hospital, I stayed by theriver, waiting for the sun to rise. I felt almost swollen from the amount of blood I’dconsumed, but I knew the lack of actual thirst would mean little when I sat beside the girlagain.

　　Cool and motionless as the stone I sat on, I stared at the dark water running besidethe icy bank, stared right through it.

　　Carlisle was right. I should leave Forks. They could spread some story to explainmy absence. Boarding school in Europe. Visiting distant relatives. Teenage runaway.

　　The story didn’t matter. No one would question too intensely.

　　 It was just a year or two, and then the girl would disappear. She would go on withher life—she would have a life to go on with. She’d go to college somewhere, get older,start a career, perhaps marry someone. I could picture that—I could see the girl dressedall in white and walking at a measured pace, her arm through her father’s.

　　It was odd, the pain that image caused me. I couldn’t understand it. Was Ijealous, because she had a future that I could never have? That made no sense. Everyone of the humans around me had that same potential ahead of them—a life—and I rarelystopped to envy them.

　　I should leave her to her future. Stop risking her life. That was the right thing todo. Carlisle always chose the right way. I should listen to him now.

　　The sun rose behind the clouds, and the faint light glistened off all the frozenglass.

　　One more day, I decided. I would see her one more time. I could handle that.

　　Perhaps I would mention my pending disappearance, set the story up.

　　This was going to be difficult; I could feel that in the heavy reluctance that wasalready making me think of excuses to stay—to extend the deadline to two days, three,four… But I would do the right thing. I knew I could trust Carlisle’s advice. And I alsoknew that I was too conflicted to make the right decision alone.

　　Much too conflicted. How much of this reluctance came from my obsessivecuriosity, and how much came from my unsatisfied appetite?

　　I went inside to change into fresh clothes for school.

　　Alice was waiting for me, sitting on the top step at the edge of the third floor.

　　You’re leaving again, she accused me.

　　I sighed and nodded.

　　I can’t see where you’re going this time.

　　“I don’t know where I’m going yet,” I whispered.

　　I want you to stay.

　　I shook my head.

　　Maybe Jazz and I could come with you?

　　“They’ll need you all the more, if I’m not here to watch out for them. And thinkof Esme. Would you take half her family away in one blow?”

　　 You’re going to make her so sad.

　　“I know. That’s why you have to stay.”

　　That’s not the same as having you here, and you know it.

　　“Yes. But I have to do what’s right.”

　　There are many right ways, and many wrong ways, though, aren’t there?

　　For a brief moment she was swept away into one of her strange visions; I watchedalong with her as the indistinct images flickered and whirled. I saw myself mixed in withstrange shadows that I couldn’t make out—hazy, imprecise forms. And then, suddenly,my skin was glittering in the bright sunlight of a small open meadow. This was a place Iknew. There was a figure in the meadow with me, but, again, it was indistinct, not thereenough to recognize. The images shivered and disappeared as a million tiny choicesrearranged the future again.

　　“I didn’t catch much of that,” I told her when the vision went dark.

　　Me either. Your future is shifting around so much I can’t keep up with any of it. Ithink, though…She stopped, and she flipped through a vast collection of other recent visions forme. They were all the same—blurry and vague.

　　“I think something is changing, though,” she said out loud. “Your life seems to beat a crossroads.”

　　I laughed grimly. “You do realize that you sound like a bogus gypsy at a carnivalnow, right?”

　　She stuck her tiny tongue out at me.

　　“Today is all right, though, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice abruptly apprehensive.

　　“I don’t see you killing anyone today,” she assured me.

　　“Thanks, Alice.”

　　“Go get dressed. I won’t say anything—I’ll let you tell the others when you’reready.”

　　She stood and darted back down the stairs, her shoulders hunched slightly. Missyou. Really.

　　Yes, I would really miss her, too.

　　 It was a quiet ride to school. Jasper could tell that Alice was upset aboutsomething, but he knew that if she wanted to talk about it she would have done soalready. Emmett and Rosalie were oblivious, having another of their moments, gazinginto each others’ eyes with wonder—it was rather disgusting to watch from the outside.

　　We were all quite aware how desperately in love they were. Or maybe I was just beingbitter because I was the only one alone. Some days it was harder than others to live withthree sets of perfectly matched lovers. This was one of them.

　　Maybe they would all be happier without me hanging around, ill-tempered andbelligerent as the old man I should be by now.

　　Of course, the first thing I did when we reached the school was to look for thegirl. Just preparing myself again.

　　Right.

　　It was embarrassing how my world suddenly seemed to be empty of everythingbut her—my whole existence centered around the girl, rather than around myselfanymore.

　　It was easy enough to understand, though, really; after eighty years of the samething every day and every night, any change became a point of absorption.

　　She had not yet arrived, but could I hear the thunderous chugging of her truck’sengine in the distance. I leaned against the side of the car to wait. Alice stayed with me,while the others went straight to class. They were bored with my fixation—it wasincomprehensible to them how any human could hold my interest for so long, no matterhow delicious she smelled.

　　The girl drove slowly into view, her eyes intent on the road and her hands tight onthe wheel. She seemed anxious about something. It took me a second to figure out whatthat something was, to realize that every human wore the same expression today. Ah, theroad was slick with ice, and they were all trying to drive more carefully. I could see shewas taking the added risk seriously.

　　That seemed in line with what little I had learned of her character. I added this tomy small list: she was a serious person, a responsible person.

　　She parked not too far from me, but she hadn’t noticed me standing here yet,staring at her. I wondered what she would do when she did? Blush and walk away?

　　 That was my first guess. But maybe she would stare back. Maybe she would come totalk to me.

　　I took a deep breath, filling my lungs hopefully, just in case.

　　She got out of the truck with care, testing the slick ground before she put herweight on it. She didn’t look up, and that frustrated me. Maybe I would go talk to her…No, that would be wrong.

　　Instead of turning toward the school, she made her way to the rear of her truck,clinging to the side of the truck bed in a droll way, not trusting her footing. It made mesmile, and I felt Alice’s eyes on my face. I didn’t listen to whatever this made herthink—I was having too much fun watching the girl check her snow chains. She actuallylooked in some danger of falling, the way her feet were sliding around. No one else washaving trouble—had she parked in the worst of the ice?

　　She paused there, staring down with a strange expression on her face. Itwas…tender? As if something about the tire was making her…emotional?

　　Again, the curiosity ached like a thirst. It was as if I had to know what she wasthinking—as if nothing else mattered.

　　I would go talk to her. She looked like she could use a hand anyway, at least untilshe was off the slick pavement. Of course, I couldn’t offer her that, could I? I hesitated,torn. As adverse as she seemed to be to snow, she would hardly welcome the touch ofmy cold white hand. I should have worn gloves—“NO!” Alice gasped aloud.

　　Instantly, I scanned her thoughts, guessing at first that I had made a poor choiceand she saw me doing something inexcusable. But it had nothing to do with me at all.

　　Tyler Crowley had chosen to take the turn into the parking lot at an injudiciousspeed. This choice would send him skidding across a patch of ice…The vision came just half a second before the reality. Tyler’s van rounded thecorner as I was still watching the conclusion that had pulled the horrified gasp throughAlice’s lips.

　　No, this vision had nothing to do with me, and yet it had everything to do withme, because Tyler’s van—the tires right now hitting the ice at the worst possible angle— was going to spin across the lot and crush the girl who had become the uninvited focalpoint of my world.

　　Even without Alice’s foresight it would have been simple enough to read thetrajectory of the vehicle, flying out of Tyler’s control.

　　The girl, standing in the exactly wrong place at the back of her truck, looked up,bewildered by the sound of the screeching tires. She looked straight into my horror-struck eyes, and then turned to watch her approaching death.

　　Not her! The words shouted in my head as if they belonged to someone else.

　　Still locked into Alice’s thoughts, I saw the vision suddenly shift, but I had notime to see what the outcome would be.

　　I launched myself across the lot, throwing myself between the skidding van andthe frozen girl. I moved so fast that everything was a streaky blur except for the object ofmy focus. She didn’t see me—no human eyes could have followed my flight—stillstaring at the hulking shape that was about to grind her body into the metal frame of hertruck.

　　I caught her around the waist, moving with too much urgency to be as gentle asshe would need me to be. In the hundredth of a second between the time that I yankedher slight form out of the path of death and the time that I crashed into to the ground withher in my arms, I was vividly aware of her fragile, breakable body.

　　When I heard her head crack against the ice, it felt like I had turned to ice, too.

　　But I didn’t even have a full second to ascertain her condition. I heard the vanbehind us, grating and squealing as it twisted around the sturdy iron body of the girl’struck. It was changing course, arcing, coming for her again—like she was a magnet,pulling it toward us.

　　A word I’d never said before in the presence of a lady slid between my clenchedteeth.

　　I had already done too much. As I’d nearly flown through the air to push her outof the way, I’d been fully aware of the mistake I was making. Knowing that it was amistake did not stop me, but I was not oblivious to the risk I was taking—taking, not justfor myself, but for my entire family.

　　Exposure.

　　 And this certainly wasn’t going to help, but there was no way I was going toallow the van to succeed in its second attempt to take her life.

　　I dropped her and threw my hands out, catching the van before it could touch thegirl. The force of it hurled me back into the car parked beside her truck, and I could feelits frame buckle behind my shoulders. The van shuddered and shivered against theunyielding obstacle of my arms, and then swayed, balancing unstably on the two far tires.

　　If I moved my hands, the back tire of the van was going fall onto her legs.

　　Oh, for the love of all that was holy, would the catastrophes never end? Was thereanything else that could go wrong? I could hardly sit here, holding the van in the air, andwait for rescue. Nor could I throw the van away—there was the driver to consider, histhoughts incoherent with panic.

　　With an internal groan, I shoved the van so that it rocked away from us for aninstant. As it fell back toward me, I caught it under the frame with my right hand while Iwrapped my left arm around the girl’s waist again and drug her out from under the van,pulling her tight up against my side. Her body moved limply as I swung her around sothat her legs would be in the clear—was she conscious? How much damage had I doneto her in my impromptu rescue attempt?

　　I let the van drop, now that it could not hurt her. It crashed to the pavement, allthe windows shattering in unison.

　　I knew that I was in the middle of a crisis. How much had she seen? Had anyother witnesses watched me materialize at her side and then juggle the van while I tried tokeep her out from under it? These questions should be my biggest concern.

　　But I was too anxious to really care about the threat of exposure as much as Ishould. Too panic-stricken that I might have injured her myself in my effort to protecther. Too frightened to have her this close to me, knowing what I would smell if I allowedmyself to inhale. Too aware of the heat of her soft body, pressed against mine—eventhrough the double obstacle of our jackets, I could feel that heat…The first fear was the greatest fear. As the screaming of the witnesses eruptedaround us, I leaned down to examine her face, to see if she was conscious—hopingfiercely that she was not bleeding anywhere.

　　Her eyes were open, staring in shock.

　　 “Bella?” I asked urgently. “Are you all right?”

　　“I’m fine.” She said the words automatically in a dazed voice.

　　Relief, so exquisite it was nearly pain, washed through me at the sound of hervoice. I sucked in a breath through my teeth, and did not mind the accompanying burn inmy throat. I almost welcomed it.

　　She struggled to sit up, but I was not ready to release her. It feltsomehow…safer? Better, at least, having her tucked into my side.

　　“Be careful,” I warned her. “I think you hit your head pretty hard.”

　　There had been no smell of fresh blood—a mercy, that—but this did not rule outinternal damage. I was abruptly anxious to get her to Carlisle and a full compliment ofradiology equipment.

　　“Ow,” she said, her tone comically shocked as she realized I was right about herhead.

　　“That’s what I thought.” Relief made it funny to me, made me almost giddy.

　　“How in the…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyelids fluttered. “How did youget over here so fast?”

　　The relief turned sour, the humor vanished. She had noticed too much.

　　Now that it appeared that the girl was in decent shape, the anxiety for my familybecame severe.

　　“I was standing right next to you, Bella.” I knew from experience that if I wasvery confident as I lied, it made any questioner less sure of the truth.