【完结】暮光之城之一《暮色》_派派后花园

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[Novel] 【完结】暮光之城之一《暮色》

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八爷°

ZxID：13286336

1247314鲜花 70鸡蛋

等级: 内阁元老
配偶: 四和七
离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
举报 只看楼主 使用道具 楼主   发表于: 2012-08-13 0
— (左。微希) 连载贴有更新的话，请点击举报，注明更新楼层，以便版主加分。O(∩_∩)O (2012-08-13 23:08) —
暮光之城1--暮色  作者：斯蒂芬妮·梅尔

第一章：序幕、初见
我从未多想我将如何死去，虽然在过去的几个月我有足够的理由去思考这个问题，但是即使我有想过，也从未想到死亡将如此地降临。

　　我屏息静气地望着房间的另一头，远远地凝视着猎人那深邃的眼眸，而他则以愉快的目光回应我。

　　这无疑是一个不错的死法，死在别人——我钟爱的人的家里。甚至可以说轰轰烈烈。这应该算是死得其所。

　　我知道如果我没有来福克斯的话，此刻也就不必面对死亡。但是，尽管我害怕，也不会后悔当初的决定。当生活给了你一个远远超过你期望的美梦，那么当这一切结束时也就没有理由再去伤心。

　　猎人带着友好的微笑，从容不迫地走向我——来了却我的生命。

　1．初见

　　妈妈开车送我去的机场，一路上车窗都敞开着。凤凰城当天的气温是75华氏度，蔚蓝的天空，万里无云。我穿着自己最喜欢的那件无袖网眼白色蕾丝衬衣；我之所以穿这件衬衫，是用它来跟凤凰城作别的。手上还拎着一件派克式外套 。

　　华盛顿州西北的奥林匹克半岛上，有一座名叫福克斯的小镇，那里几乎常年笼罩着乌云。这个微不足道的小镇上的雨水比美利坚的任何地方都要多。妈妈就是从这个小镇那阴郁而又无处躲藏的阴影之下，带着我逃出来的，当时我才几个月。就是这个小镇，我每年夏天都不得不去袋上一个月，直到我满十四岁。就是在那一年，我终于拿定主意说不肯去；结果最近三个夏天，爸爸查理没办法只好带我去加利福尼亚度假，在那里过上两个星期。

　　我这次自我流放的目的地就是福克斯——采取这次行动令我恐惧不已。 我憎恶福克斯。

　　我喜爱凤凰城。我喜爱阳光，喜爱酷热。我喜欢这座活力四射、杂乱无章、不断扩张的大城市。

　　"贝拉，"上飞机之前，妈妈对我说，这话她已经说了九百九十九遍了，"你没有必要这样做。"

　　我长得像我妈妈，但她头发较短，而且脸上带有笑纹。看着她那双天真烂漫的大眼睛，我涌起一阵心痛。我怎么可以撇下我可爱、古怪、率性的母亲，让她独自一人去生活呢？当然，眼下她有菲尔，账单会有人去付，冰箱里会有吃的，汽车没油了有人去加，迷了路也有人可求，但还是……

　　"我真的想去，"我撒了个谎。我一直都不太会说谎话，不过这个谎话最近一直在说，最后连自己都深信不疑了。

　　"代我向查理问好。"

　　"我会的。"

　　"我很快就会来看你的，"她坚持道，"你想回家的话，随时都可以回——你说一声需要我，我马上就回来。"

　　不过，从她眼中我能看出这样的诺言会让她做出怎样的牺牲。

　　"别为我操心，"我劝她，"一切都会很好的。我爱你，妈妈。"

　　她紧紧地搂了我一会儿，然后等我登上了飞机，她才离开。

　　从凤凰城到西雅图要飞四个小时，然后在西雅图换乘小飞机往北飞一个小时到天使港，再南下开一个小的车就到福克斯了。坐飞机我倒不怕；不过，跟查理在车上相处的那一个小时却令我有些担心。

　　查理对这件事情的态度从头到尾都非常不错。我第一次来跟他一起生活，即使还有些许做秀的成分，但他似乎真的很高兴。他已经为我在高中注册了，还打算帮我弄辆车。

　　但是跟查理在一起肯定会很别扭。我们都不是那种在谁看来都很啰嗦的人，何况，我也不知道有什么好说的。我明白，他被我的决定弄得摸不着头脑了——就像我妈妈在我面前那样，我不喜欢福克斯，这一点我从来都没有掩饰过。

　　飞机在天使港着陆时，天空正在下着雨。我没有把它看作是某种征兆——下雨在福克斯是不可避免的。我已经跟太阳说过再见了。

　　查理开着巡逻车来接我，这也是我预料之中的事。查理·斯旺是福克斯善良人民的斯旺警长。我尽管手头不宽裕，但还是想买辆车，主要就是因为我不想让一辆顶上有红蓝灯的警车拉着我满街跑。交通不畅，警察的功劳谁都望尘莫及。

　　我晃晃悠悠地下了飞机以后，查理笨拙地用单手拥抱了我一下。

　"见到你很高兴，贝尔，"他不假思索地伸手稳住了我，笑着说，"你变化不大嘛。蕾妮好吗？"

　　"妈妈还好。见到你我也很高兴，爸爸。"他们不让我当着他的面直呼其名，叫他查理。

　　我只有几个袋子。我在亚利桑那州穿的衣服，对于华盛顿州来说大都太不挡雨了。我和妈妈已经把我们的钱凑起来，给我新添了冬天穿的衣服了，但还是没多少。巡逻车的后备箱轻轻松松就全装下了。

　　"我弄到了一辆适合你开的好车，真的很便宜，"我们系好安全带后，他说。

　　"什么样的车？"他放着简简单单的"好车"不说，偏说"适合你开的好车"，这让我起了疑心。

　　"噢，实际上是一辆卡车，一辆雪佛兰。"

　　"在哪儿弄的？"

　　"你记不记得住在拉普什 的比利·布莱克？"拉普什是太平洋岸边的一个很小的印第安人保留区。

　　"不记得了。"

　　"以前夏天他常常跟我们一块儿去钓鱼，"查理提示道。

　　难怪我不记得了。不让痛苦、多余的东西进入我的记忆，是我的拿手好戏。

　　"现在他坐轮椅了，"见我没反应，查理继续说道，"所以开不了车了，他主动提出来要便宜卖给我。"

　　"哪年的车？"从他脸上表情的变化，我看得出这是个他不希望我问的问题。

　　"哦，比利已经在发动机上下了大力气了——才几年的车，真的。"

　　我希望他别太小瞧我了，以为我这么轻易就可以打发："他什么时候买的？"

　　"1984年买的，我想是。"

　　"他是买的新车吗？"

　　"哦，不是新车。我想是65年以前的新车——最早也是55年以后的，"他不好意思地承认道。

　　"查——爸爸，车我可真是一窍不通哟。要是出了什么毛病，我自己可不会修，请人修吧，我又请不起。……"

　　"真的，贝拉，那家伙棒着呢。现在再也没人能生产这样的车了。"

　　那家伙，我思忖道 ……可能有好几种意思——最起码，也是个绰号。

　　"多便宜算便宜啊？"说到底，这才是我不能妥协的地方。

　　"噢，宝贝，可以说我已经给你买下了。作为欢迎你回家的礼物。"查理满怀希望地从眼角偷偷瞥了我一眼。

　　哈,免费.

　　"您不必这样破费的，爸爸。我本打算自己买一辆的。"

　　"我不介意。我想让你在这儿过得高兴。"说这话的时候，他两眼盯着前面的路。查理不习惯大声表达自己的感情。在这点上，我完全继承了他。所以我回话的时候，也是两眼盯着正前方。

　"那样真的太好了，爸爸。谢谢啦。我真的很感激。"没有必要再来一句：我在福克斯会感到高兴那是不可能的事情。他不必跟我一起遭罪。再说，馈赠之马莫看牙——我这白捡的卡车又哪能嫌它的发动机差呢？

　　"好啦，不必客气了，"他喃喃道，他让我谢得不好意思了。

　　我们聊了聊潮湿的天气，这可不是什么可以让人聊个没完的话题。接着，我们默默地看着窗外。

　　风景当然很漂亮，这一点我不能否认。放眼望去，满眼皆绿：树是绿色的，树干上的苔藓是绿色的，树枝上浓密的树叶是绿色的，地上的蕨类植物也是绿色的。就连从树叶之间滤下的空气，也都染上了一层绿意。

　　太绿了——简直是另外一个星球。

　　终于，我们到了查理的家。他还住在那套两居的小房子里，是他跟我妈妈在结婚之初买下来的。他们的婚姻也就仅有那么一段日子——新婚燕尔的那几天。在他那一切如昨的房子前面，停着我的新卡车，对了，应该说是对我而言的新卡车。褪了色的红色，圆圆大大的挡泥板，还有一个灯泡形状的驾驶室。大出我意料的是，我竟然很喜欢它。我不知道它开不开得走，但我能从它的身上看到我自己的影子。而且，它是那种结结实实，永远也坏不了的铁疙瘩，就是你在车祸现场看到的那种结实玩意儿：自己身上漆都没蹭掉一点儿，而周围却一片狼藉，全是毁在它手下的外国汽车的碎块儿。

　　"哇，谢谢爸爸，我非常喜欢它！"现在看来，我明天面临的恐怖会大大地减轻了，用不着在冒雨徒步走两英里去上学和同意搭警长的巡逻车这两者中做选择了。

　　"我很高兴你那么喜欢它。"查理生硬地说道，又不好意思了。

　　只用一趟，我所有的东西就全搬到楼上去了。我住西边面向前院的那间卧室，这间屋子我很熟悉；我一生下来它就归了我。现代化的地板，深红色的墙壁，尖顶型的天花板，镶黑边的窗帘，这些都是我童年的一部分。查理惟一变了变的，就是随着我慢慢长大，把婴儿床换成了一般的床，添了一张写字台。现在这张写字台上有了一台二手电脑，外带一根连着调制解调器的电话线，电话线是顺着地板走的，另一头插在离得最近的电话插孔里。这是妈妈提出来的一个要求，这样，我们联系起来就比较容易了。我儿时的那把摇椅还放在那个角落里。

　　只有楼梯顶上惟一一个小浴室，我只好跟查理共用了。我尽量别让自己老惦记着这事。

　查理最大的优点之一就是爽快。他让我自己整理行李，这要是换了我母亲，是万万不可能的事情。一个人袋着真好，不必面露微笑让自己看起来很愉快；沮丧地凝视着窗外如注的大雨，掉几滴眼泪是一种解脱。我没有痛痛快快大哭一场的心境，我会把它留到睡觉的时候，因为那个时候，我将不得不想一想来日的早上。

　　福克斯高中部总共仅有357个——当然，现在是358个学生，这实在令人吃惊；而我家那里仅初中部就超过700人，这里所有的孩子都是一起长大的——他们的爷爷奶奶在蹒跚学步的时候就在一起。我将成为从大城市新来的女孩，一个稀奇罕见、行为怪异的另类。

　　或许，要是我有一副凤凰城女孩子应有的模样，我可以将它变成我的优势。可身体不争气，我到哪儿都不适应。按说我应该是晒得黑黑的，像运动员，比方说，排球运动员啦，啦啦队长什么的，或许应该具有与住在阳光之谷的人相称的所有特点。

　　恰恰相反，我看上去皮肤苍白,甚至不是因为蓝眼睛或红头发之类的反衬，尽管天天在晒太阳。我虽然一直很苗条，但不知怎么搞的，老是松松垮垮的，一看就不是运动员；我手眼的协调性很差，做运动时很难不出洋相，不伤到自己和站得离自己太近的人。

　　把衣服放进了我那口破旧的松木穿衣柜后，我拿起我的那袋浴室用品，去了那间公共浴室，洗去了这一天旅行下来的风尘。梳理那头缠结在一起的湿漉漉的头发时，我照了照镜子。也许是因为光线的缘故，我看上去已经越发发灰发黄、有点不健康了。我的皮肤本来可以很漂亮的——非常亮，几乎透明——只可惜它的颜色发暗了。我到了这里变得黯然无色了。

　　面对镜子里苍白的自己，我不得不承认是在欺骗自己。我到哪儿都不适应的，不单单是身体方面。如果我在3000人的学校里都找不到一个容身之所，那么在这里又能有什么机会呢？

　　我跟自己的同龄人相处不好。或许，事实是我跟谁都相处不好，就这么回事。就连我妈妈，这个世界上比谁都亲的人，都没有跟我融洽过一回，从来都没有意见完全一致过。有时候，我在想我眼里所看到的和世上所有其他人眼里看到的是不是同样的东西。也许，我脑袋里哪里短路。

　　不过原因并不重要，重要的是结果。明天不过是刚刚开始。

　　那天晚上我没睡好，就连哭完之后也没睡好。房顶上扫过的风雨声，嗖嗖地一阵紧似一阵，根本就没有减弱成背景音的意思。我把褪了色的旧棉被拽上来蒙住了脑袋，后来又在上面加了个枕头。可我还是直到后半夜，等雨好不容易减弱成了毛毛小雨时才入睡。

　早上醒来，睁眼一看，窗外除了浓雾还是浓雾，我能感觉到幽闭恐怖症正在向我慢慢袭来。在这里，你根本就看不到天空；就像一个笼子一样。

　　与查理共进早餐是一件静静悄悄的事。他祝我上学好运，我谢了他，知道他祝了也是徒劳。好运总是会躲着我。查理先出了门，去了警察局，那里才像是他的家。等他走了之后，我在破旧的橡木方桌边上坐下，坐在三把不配套的椅子中的一把上，端详起查理的小厨房来：墙上嵌着深色的护墙板，有几个鲜黄色的橱柜，地上铺着白色的油毡。什么都没有变。橱柜上的漆是我母亲18年前刷的，她想给房子里面引点儿阳光进来。隔壁巴掌大的家庭娱乐室的壁炉上方挂着一排照片，第一张是查理和我妈妈在拉斯维加斯的结婚照，然后一张是我出生后我们一家三口在医院的合影，是一个乐于助人的护士帮忙照的，接着的一连串全都是我在学校里的照片了，最晚的一张是去年才照的。这些照片可寒碜了——我得想想办法，看怎么能够让查理把它们挪到别的地方去，起码我住在这里的时候不能挂着。

　　在这栋房子里，谁都不可能看不出查理从来都没有真正把我妈妈忘掉过。这令我很不自在。

　　我不想太早去上学，可我没办法在这个房子里多袋了。我穿上了外套——给人的感觉有点儿防毒服的味道——一头冲进了雨里。

　　仅仅是还在下着一点儿毛毛小雨，我取下钥匙再把门锁上这么短时间，是淋不透我的。房子的钥匙一直藏在门边的屋檐下面。我的新防水靴溅起的泥水很恼人，听不见一般情形下脚底砾石发出的嘎吱嘎吱声。我不能像心里希望的那样，停下来欣赏欣赏我的卡车。我着急着呢，恨不能赶紧从这盘绕在我脑袋周围，缠住帽兜下面的头发不放的雾霭中摆脱出来。

　　卡车里面倒是很干爽。显然，不是比利，就是查理，已经把车清洁过了，不过装了软垫的皮座椅还是能闻到些许的烟草、汽油和薄荷油的味道。令我感到安慰的是，发动机一打就着，不过声音很大，刚发动时突突作响，空转时更是达到了最大音量。嗨，这么老的一辆车肯定有一两处缺陷的。嘿，那老掉牙的收音机还响呢，这可是一笔意外收获呀。

　　找到学校没费什么事，虽然我以前从未去过。学校和许多其他建筑一样，就在公路边上。它不太看得出来是所学校；幸好看见了那块上面写着福克斯中学的牌子，我才停下来。它看上去就像一溜用栗色砖修建的配套用房。这里有许多树和灌木，一开始我没能看清学校的规模。这哪里有什么教育机构的感觉?我感觉倒是很怀旧。铁丝网栅栏在哪儿？还有金属探测器呢？

　我把车停在了第一栋楼前，楼上挂着一块小牌子，上面写有"行政办公室"字样。不见有别人把车停在这里，所以我断定这里肯定是不让停车的，不过我还是决定去问问路，而不要像个白痴似地在雨中绕圈子。我不情愿地从舒适温暖的驾驶室出来，上了一条有深色栅栏的小石路。开门之前，我深吸了一口气。

　　里面灯火通明，而且比我想象得要暖和。办公室很小；有一个小小的接待区，放置着一些带衬垫的可折叠椅子，地上铺着橘色斑点的商务地毯，布告和奖彰混乱地贴在墙上，一个大立钟发出清晰而响亮的滴答声，在大塑料罐子里的盆景生长得异常茂盛，好像这里户外缺乏植被似的所以它们才在这里长得到处都是。这个房间被一个长柜台分割成两部分，柜台前凌乱地放着装满了纸张的金属网篓，台子的前面板上用胶带胡乱地贴着色彩明亮的广告传单。台子后面有三张办公桌，其中一张被一个大个子的，红发戴眼镜的女性所占据。她穿着一件紫色的体恤衫），这件体恤衫让我立刻觉得自己穿得太多了。

　　她抬头看着我："你有事吗？"

　　"我是伊萨贝拉·斯旺，"我通报了姓名，看见她的眼中立即闪过明白了的眼神，我料想,无疑我已经成为了这个小镇上闲聊时的话题，警长轻浮的前妻的闺女，终于回家来了。

　　"当然，"她说道，她在自己办公桌上一堆早就有所准备的文件中翻了半天，才翻到了要找的那几份，"我这就把你的课程表给你，还有一张校园的地图。"她把好几张纸拿到台子上给我看。

　　她帮我仔细检查了一下我的课程，在校园地图上把上每一节课的最佳路线都一一标了出来，然后给了我一张纸片让每个老师签字，要我在放学前再把签过字的纸片交回来。就像查理一样，她冲我笑了笑并希望我喜欢福克斯。我也冲她笑了笑，而且尽了最大的努力，让她相信我的微笑不是装出来的。

　　我出来朝车边走去时，别的学生开始到校了。我开车沿交通线绕学校转了一圈。我高兴地看到大多数的车都跟我的车一样破，一点儿不浮华。在凤凰城，我住在为数不多的几个低收入的居民区中的一个居民区里，而这些居民区都隶属于天堂谷行政区管辖。在学生停车区，看见一辆新梅塞德斯或者保时捷是很寻常的事情。这里最好的车是一辆亮闪闪的沃尔沃，鹤立鸡群。不过，一到停车位我还是马上就把火熄了，省得它那雷鸣般的声音把注意力吸引到我身上来。

　我在车里看了看校园地图，想当时在车上就能把它记住；这样的话，就有希望不需要一天到晚走到哪里，都得把它贴在鼻子前面了。我把所有的东西塞进了书包，将书包带子挎在了肩上，吸了一大口气。我可以搞定，我底气不足地对自己撒了个谎，没有人会把我吃了。最后，我深呼一口气从车里走了出来。

　　我往人行道那边走去的时候，脸一直缩在帽兜里面。人行道上挤满了十几岁的孩子。我朴素的黑夹克并不显眼,降低了我受到关注的可能。

　　一到自助餐厅，3号楼一眼就可以看到了。东边的角上有一个白色的方块，方块上用黑漆写着偌大的一个"3"字。快到门口时，我觉得自己的呼吸渐渐有点急促了。我跟在两个穿着男女皆宜的雨披的学生后面走进教室时)，我尽力屏住了呼吸。

　　教室不大。我前面的那两个人一跨过门就停了下来，把雨衣挂在了一长排钩子上。我也跟着她们那样做了。那是两个女孩子，一个是棕红皮肤、金发碧眼，另一个皮肤也很苍白，一头闪亮的褐发。起码，我的皮肤不会很显眼了。

　　我把纸片拿上去交给了老师，一个高个子、秃顶的男老师，他在讲台上放了一张名牌，写明自己是梅森先生。看到我的名字后，他呆呆地看着我——不是什么鼓励的反应——我自然刷地一下子红了脸，红得跟番茄似的。不过至少，他没有把我介绍给全班同学，直接把我打发到后面的一张空着的课桌上去了。坐在后面，增大了我的这班新同学盯着我看的难度， 但是无论如何他们还是做到了。我一直低着头，看着老师发给我的阅读书目清单，都是相当基础的：勃朗特、莎士比亚、乔叟、福克纳。我全都读过了。这很令我欣慰……同时又让我觉得厌烦无聊。我不知道我妈妈会不会把我原来写的那一夹子论文给我寄过来，或者说不知道她会不会认为那是作弊。老师嗡嗡嗡地讲他的课时，我在脑子里跟我妈妈进行了各种各样的争论。

　　下课铃响了——发出一阵刺耳的嗡嗡声，一个瘦长瘦长有皮肤病、头发黑得跟抹了发油似的男生从过道的另一边倾过身来对我说。

　　"你是伊萨贝拉·斯旺，对吧？"他看上去像那种过分热情、像那种典型的象棋俱乐部的人。

　　"贝拉，"我纠正道。距我只有三张课桌之遥的同学，全都扭头看了我一眼。

　　"你下一节课在哪儿上？"他问。

　　我不得不在书包里查对了一下："嗯，政府课，有关杰弗逊政府的，在6号楼。"

　往哪个方向看，都避不开好奇的眼神。

　　"我去4号楼，可以告诉你怎么走。……"确实是过分热情，"我是埃里克，"他补充道。

　　我很勉强地笑了笑："谢谢。"

　　我们取了上衣，出来走进了雨中，外面早就又下起来了。我可以肯定，我们后面有好几个人跟得非常近，可以偷听到我们说的话。我希望自己不是在犯多疑症。

　　"这么说，这儿跟凤凰城很不一样喽？"他问。

　　"非常不一样。"

　　"那儿不怎么下雨，是不是？"

　　"一年三四次。"

　　"哇塞，那会是个什么样子？"他感到很惊讶。

　　"阳光灿烂，"我告诉他。

　　"可你晒得也不怎么黑呀？"

　　"我母亲是半个白化病患者。"

　　他担心地审视了下我的脸，我叹了一口气。乌云跟幽默感似乎不相溶。几个月下来，我已经不会说挖苦话了。

　　我们绕着自助餐厅往回走，去往南边体育馆边上的教学楼。埃里克把我一直送到门口，尽管楼号标得清清楚楚。

　　"好了，祝你好运，"我拉把手的时候他说，"说不定我们还会一起上别的课。"他说得满怀期待。

　　我给了他一个生硬的微笑，进了楼门。

　　这天上午余下的时间，基本上都是这样过去的。教我们三角的老师是瓦纳先生，不说别的，就因为他教的这门课，我无论如何都会很讨厌他的，他也是唯一一个要我站到全班面前做自我介绍的老师。我说话结结巴巴的，脸也红了，而且回到座位上去的时候还让自己的靴子给绊了一下。

　　两节课下来，每个班上我都已经认得好几张面孔了。总有某个胆子比其他同学都大一点的同学，会向我做自我介绍，问我喜不喜欢福克斯。我试图回答得很圆滑，但绝大多数时候我不过是说了一大堆谎话。起码，我从来就没需要过那张校园地图。

　　有一个女同学上三角和西班牙语这两门课都坐在我的旁边，她还和我一起去自助餐厅吃午饭。她个头很小，比我五英尺四的个头儿要矮好几英寸，但她那一头乱蓬蓬的鬈发把我们在身高上的差距缩小了不少。我记不住她的名字，所以她唧唧喳喳地谈论老师和同学时，我都会微笑和点头。我并不想听下去。

　　我们和她的几个朋友坐在一起，我和她坐在桌子的一头，她把这几个朋友都介绍给了我。他们的名字，她说完了我也就全忘了。他们似乎很钦佩她跟我说话的勇气。英语课上的那个男同学埃里克，在餐厅的另一头冲我挥了挥手。

　就是在那里，我坐在餐厅吃午饭，试图跟七个好奇的不认识的同学聊天的时候，我第一次见到了他们。

　　他们坐在自助餐厅的一个角落里，在这间长长的屋子里距我坐的位置最远的地方。他们一共5个人。他们没有说话，也没有吃东西，不过他们每人面前都有一盘没有动过的饭菜。他们没有呆呆地看着我，不像绝大多数别的同学那样，所以，盯着他们看很安全，无须担心和那些非常好奇的眼神接触。但吸引了我注意的并不是这些，我开始留意他们。

　　他们丝毫没有相似之处。三个男孩子中，有一个块头很大，肌肉看上去像一个结结实实的举重运动员，一头黑色的鬈发。另外一个高一些，瘦一些，但也很强壮，一头绝妙的金发。最后一个瘦长瘦长的，块头小一些，一头不整洁的古铜色头发。他的男孩子气比另两个更重一些，而另两个看上去像大学生，甚至像这里的老师而不是学生。

　　两个女孩子截然相反。个头高的那一个体型犹如雕像般的匀称。她身材优美，就像《体育画报》泳装专刊封面上的那种，就像每个女孩子只要跟她袋在同一间屋子里自尊心就会备受打击的那种。她有一头金色的齐腰长发，飘逸地披在背后。矮个子女孩则像个小精灵，奇瘦，五官很小。她留着一头深黑色修剪得参差不齐的短发，指着每一个方向。

　　可是，他们又都有完全相似之处。他们每个人的皮肤都有一种近似病态的苍白，天底下所有的学生中最苍白的都生活在这个没有阳光的小镇。比我这个白化病患者还要苍白。尽管他们头发的色阶范围不一,可他们都有如同黑曜石般的眼眸,并且在他们的眼睛下都有深暗的阴影——瘀伤那样的紫色，好像都失眠了一宿似的，或者好像鼻子尚未痊愈似的。尽管他们的鼻子，也是他们的共同特征之一，全都是直直的无可挑剔的尖鼻子。

　　但所有这一切都不是我不能把目光移开的原因。

　　我之所以盯着他们瞧，是因为他们如此不同、又如此相似的脸都美极了，美到了人间不觅的程度。这是一些或许只有在时装杂志的喷绘页上才有希望看到的脸。或者说是技术娴熟的画家描绘出的天使的脸。很难说谁最美——也许是那个无可挑剔的金发女孩儿，或者是那个古铜色头发的男孩子。

　　他们全都望着一边——没有看着对方，没有看着其他的同学，也没有看着我所知道的任何某样特别的东西。我注意到，小个子女孩端着盘子站起来了——苏打水原封未动，苹果一口没咬——用一种轻灵而优雅的，仅属于T型台走秀的步伐，大步走开了。我吃惊地看着她那柔软灵活的舞步，直到她把自己的盘子倒掉，然后悄悄地从后门溜了出去，速度快得超出了我的想象。我把目光迅速移回到了其余的几个身上，他们仍坐在那里，没有丝毫改变。

　"他们是谁？"我问西班牙语课上的那个女孩儿，她的名字我记不起来了。

　　她抬起头来，想看看我所说的他们是谁——尽管可能早就从我的语气中听出来了——突然那个瘦一点儿的，孩子气重点儿的，可能也是他们中最小的那一个男孩转过来看着她。但他的视线只在她身上停留了不到一秒(奇.书.网--整.理.提.供)，然后他的黑眼睛就闪向了我。

　　他迅速把视线移开了，比我还要快，虽然我窘得立即低下了头。那匆匆的一瞥，他脸上没有任何感兴趣的表情——就仿佛她叫了他的名字，他本能地抬了一下头，心里早就决定了不理睬一样。

　　我旁边的女孩不好意思得咯咯直笑，和我一样看着桌子。

　　"那是爱德华·卡伦和埃美特·卡伦兄弟俩跟罗莎莉·黑尔和贾斯帕·黑尔姐弟俩。走了的那个是爱丽丝·卡伦；他们全都跟卡伦大夫夫妇住在一起。"她低声地说到。

　　我用眼角匆匆瞥了那个漂亮的男孩子一眼，只见他正看着盘子，用他白皙而修长的手指把面包圈撕成小块扔进嘴里。他的嘴动得非常快，两片完美的嘴唇之间仅仅露着一条缝。其余的三个依然望着一边，不过我感觉到他在悄悄地跟他们说着什么。

　　古怪的，少见的名字，我寻思着。爷爷奶奶们才用这种名字呀。不过，也许是这儿时兴呢——小镇上的名字？我终于想起来了，我旁边的女孩叫杰西卡，一个非常普通的名字。我家那边，历史课班上就有两个叫杰西卡的女孩。

　　"他们……长得很好看呢。"我努力用明显轻描淡写的语气掩饰自己心中的惊叹。

　　"对！"杰西卡又咯咯地笑起来表示认同，"只是，他们全都在一起——我是指，埃美特和罗莎莉，还有贾斯帕和爱丽丝。而且，他们还住在一起。"我苛刻地想，她的语调包含了小镇上所有人对此表示震惊和指责的心声。不过实话实说，我不得不承认，这样的事，就是放到凤凰城，也会引起风言风语的。

　　"哪几个是卡伦家的孩子？"我问，"他们看上去不像有血缘关系……"

　　"噢，他们不是卡伦家的孩子。卡伦大夫其实很年轻，才二十几岁或者三十出头。他们都是收养的。姓黑尔的两个是姐弟俩，双胞胎——金发的那两个——他们是领养的孩子。"

　　"作为领养的孩子，他们年龄偏大了一点吧。"

　　"他俩现在，贾斯帕和罗莎莉都是十八，可他俩八岁就跟卡伦太太在一起了。她是他俩的姑姑之类的。"

　"他们真是心地善良的好人，这么年轻，就照看这么多的孩子。"

　　"我想也是，"杰西卡的回答有些勉强，而且我得出了这么个印象，觉得她出于某种原因，不太喜欢那个大夫和他妻子。从她看他们收养的那些孩子的眼神中，我推测这个原因就是嫉妒。"不过，我认为卡伦太太生不了孩子。"她补了一句，仿佛这样可以让他们的善良打点儿折扣似的。

　　整个交谈过程中，我不止一次地把目光移向那素昧平生的一家人坐的那张桌子。他们依然望着四壁，没有吃东西。

　　"他们一直住在福克斯吗？"我问。无疑当我在这里度过某个夏天的时候，我就应该注意到他们了。

　　"不，"她说，听她的语气，好像含有一种即使对我这样初来乍到的人来说，答案也是明摆着的意思，"他们是两年前才从阿拉斯加的某个地方搬来的。"

　　我顿时涌起了一阵同情，也感到了一丝慰藉。同情，是因为尽管他们貌若天仙，却是外地来的，显然没有为当地人接纳。慰藉，是因为我不是这儿惟一新来的，而且无论按什么标准，我无疑也不是最令人关注的对象。

　　我打量他们的时候，最小的那个，卡伦兄妹中的一个，抬头和我的目光不期而遇，这一次，他的表情里充满了明显的好奇。我赶紧把目光移开了，在我看来，他的眼神里似乎有着某种未能得到满足的期待。

　　"红褐色头发的那个男孩子是谁？"我问。我拿眼角的余光瞟了他一眼，他还在盯着我看，但不是像今天其余的同学那样呆呆地看——他带着一丝灰心的表情。我再次低下了头。

　　"他是爱德华。当然啦他绝对英俊潇洒，不过你可别浪费自己的时间。他不会跟人约会的。显然，这里的女孩子没有一个漂亮得能配得上他的。"她轻蔑地说道，明摆着是吃不到葡萄说葡萄酸。我想知道他是什么时候拒绝了她的。

　　我咬住嘴唇，藏起了微笑。然后，我又瞥了他一眼。他已经转过了脸，不过我觉得他的面颊好像上扬了一些，好象他也在微笑。

　　又过了几分钟，他们四个一起离开了桌子。他们个个都是那样风度翩翩，引人瞩目——就连那个块头很大、肌肉发达的也不例外。看一看就令人心神不宁。那个叫爱德华的再也没有看我一眼。

　　我跟杰西卡和她的那些朋友在饭桌上坐了很久，我一个人是坐不了这么久的。我开始担心别在我来学校的第一天就上课迟到。一个我新认识的同学，这个同学很体贴周到，怕我没记住，又告诉了我一遍她叫安吉拉，接下来的一节生物学（2）跟我同班。我们一起走着去上课，路上没有说话。她也很腼腆。

　进了教室后，安吉拉坐到了一张黑漆桌面的实验桌上，实验桌和我以前坐过的那些一模一样。她旁边已经有人了。实际上，所有的桌子都座无虚席了，就剩一张还有个空儿，紧挨着中间的过道，我认出了坐在那惟一的空座边上的是爱德华·卡伦，因为他的头发与众不同。

　　顺着过道去跟老师做自我介绍并让老师在我的纸片上签名的时候，我一直在偷偷地注视着他。就在我从他身边经过时，他突然僵硬在那里一动不动。他又盯了我一眼，与我的眼神碰到一起时，露出我所见过最古怪的表情——敌意加狂暴。我将目光迅速移开了，心里非常震惊，脸又一下子红了。我让走道上的一本书给绊了一下，害得我挂在了一张桌子的边上。坐在那张桌上的女生咯咯直笑。

　　我注意到他的眼睛很黑——煤炭一般的黑。

　　班纳先生在我的纸片上签了名，给我发了一本书，没说介绍之类的废话。我可以断定我们会合得来的。当然了，他别无选择，只能让我坐到教室中间的那个空座上去。我坐到他旁边去的时候，始终都垂着眼睛，他刚才那充满敌意的凝视让我很不知所措。

　　把书放到桌上然后就座的时候，我没有抬眼，但我眼角的余光还是看到了他姿势的变化。他倾向远离我的那一侧，坐到了椅子的最边缘，脸也扭到了另一边。好像闻到了什么难闻的气味。我偷偷地闻了闻自己的头发。我的头发散发着草莓般的味道，是我最喜欢的香波的气味。完全不像是什么难闻的味道呀。我让头发自右肩垂下，在我俩之间形成了一挂黑色的帘子，然后试图注意听老师讲课。

　　不幸的是，课讲的是细胞解剖，我已经学过的东西。不管怎样，我还是认真地做了笔记，始终低着头。

　　我忍不住偶尔透过那层我用头发做的帘子，偷看我旁边那个奇怪的男孩子一眼。那堂课自始至终，他那僵硬的姿势一刻都没有松弛下来过，坐在椅子边上，能离我多远就坐多远。我可以看到他左腿上的那只手紧紧地攥成了拳头，他的肌腱绷在苍白的皮肤下清晰可见，他一直保持着肌肉紧绷的状态，从未放松下来。他把白衬衫长长的袖子卷到了胳膊肘，他手臂的皮肤光洁细腻，肌肉却惊人的结实强健。他远非坐在他高大结实的哥哥旁边时看上去那样的瘦弱。

　　这节课好像比别的课拖的时间都长。是因为这一天终于快熬出头了的缘故呢，还是因为我在等他那紧攥的拳头放松下来的缘故呢？他的拳头始终没放松下来；他依旧静静地坐着，静得好像他根本没有呼吸似的。他是不是有什么地方不对劲啦？他平时都是这样吗？我对自己今天吃午饭时杰西卡的那番刻薄话的判断产生了怀疑。说不定她不像我想象的那样喜欢怨恨别人。

　这和我不可能有任何关系呀。之前他根本就不认识我。

　　我又抬头偷看了他一眼，马上就后悔了。没想到他又在瞪着我，两只黑色的眼睛里都充满了厌恶。我迅速把目光从他身上移开，吓得我胆怯地靠在椅背上。这时，我脑子里突然掠过了要是目光能杀人这句话。

　　正在这时，铃声大作，把我吓得跳了起来，爱德华·卡伦已经离开了椅子。他优美自然地站了起来——个头比我想象的要高很多——背对着我，别人都还没离座，他已经走出了门。

　　我僵坐在自己的座位上，茫然地目送着他的背影。他这个人也太讨厌了。这不公平。我开始慢慢地收拾自己的东西，竭力抑制着满腔的怒火，怕自己的眼睛泛起泪花。不知什么原因，我的情绪跟泪腺之间有固定的电子线路连接。我生气时通常都会哭，这是一个很丢人的秉性。

　　"你是伊萨贝拉·斯旺吧？"一个男声问道。

　　我抬眼一看，只见一张可爱的娃娃脸，正友好地冲着我微笑，他浅黄色的头发用发胶整整齐齐地定成了一簇一簇的。他显然不认为我难闻。

　　"贝拉，"我微笑着纠正了他的说法。

　　"我是迈克。"

　　"你好，迈克。"

　　"你下一节课在哪儿上？需要我帮忙吗？"

　　"事实上，我要去体育馆。我想我能找到。"

　　"那也是我的下一节课。"他似乎很激动，尽管在这么小的一所学校里，这并不是什么大的巧合。

　　我们一起向上课的地方走去；他是个话匣子——主要是他讲我听，这让我感到很轻松。他十岁以前住在加利福尼亚，所以他能理解我对阳光的感受。后来才知道，他跟我英语课也是同班。他是我今天遇到的最好的人了。

　　不过，我们进体育馆的时候，他问了一句："那你有没有用铅笔什么的刺了爱德华·卡伦一下？我从来没有见过他那样。"

　　我愣住了。这么说来，我不是惟一注意到了的人。而且，显然爱德华·卡伦平时也不是这样。我决定装傻充愣。

　　"你是说生物学课坐我旁边的那个男生吗？"我问得很不艺术。

　　"对，"他说，"他看上去好像很苦恼或者有什么难言之隐似的。"

　　"我不知道，"我回答说，"我没跟他说过话。"

　　"他是个不可思议的家伙。"迈克在我边上耗着，迟迟不去更衣室，"要是我当时有幸坐在你旁边的话，我肯定就跟你说过话了。"

　　我冲他笑了笑，进了女更衣室。他很友好而且明显对我有好感。但这还不足以平息我的愤怒。

　体育老师克拉普教练给我找了一件校服，但并没让我穿着上今天这节课。在家那边，只要求上两年的体育课，而在这里，体育整个四年都是必修课。福克斯对我而言，简直就是一座人间地狱。

　　我观看了同时进行的四场排球赛。想起我曾经受过多少伤，遭受过多少痛苦，我就有点儿恶心。

　　最后的一遍铃声终于响了。我慢慢地到行政办公室去交还我的纸片。雨已经飘到别的地方去了，但风很大，而且更冷了。我抱紧双臂，缩成了一团。

　　走进那暖和的办公室后，我差点儿转身就出来了。

　　爱德华·卡伦站在我面前的办公桌边，我又认出了那一头蓬乱的古铜色头发。他似乎没有注意到我进来的响声。我贴着后墙站着，等着负责接待的老师闲下来。

　　他正在用很有吸引力的声音低声同她理论，我很快就抓住了他们争论的要点。他想要将第六节生物课调到别的时间——任何别的时间都行。

　　我怎么也不能相信这事和我有关。肯定是因为什么别的事情，发生在我进那间生物学教室之前的事情。他脸上的表情肯定百分之百和另外一件恼火的事情有关。他跟我素昧平生，绝对不可能突如其来地对我产生如此强烈的厌恶之情。

　　门又开了，冷风突然灌了进来，把桌上的报纸刮得沙沙作响，吹散了我的头发，纷乱地贴在我的脸上。进来的女生只不过是走到桌边，往铁筐里放了一张纸条就又出去了。可爱德华·卡伦的背都僵直了，接着他慢慢地扭过头来瞪了我一眼——他的脸漂亮得不可思议——锐利的目光里充满了仇恨。刹那间，我感到了一阵真正的恐惧，胳膊上的汗毛都竖起来了。他只瞪了我一秒钟，可这一瞪比刚才那阵刺骨的寒风，还要令我感到寒冷。他把头又扭回去，面向接待员了。

　　"那么，没关系，"他用天鹅绒般柔和的声音匆匆说道，"我看得出来那是不可能的了。多谢您帮忙。"说完，他转身就走，没有再看我一眼，然后就消失在门外了。

　　我懦弱地来到了桌前，这一次脸不是变红了而是变白了，把签了名的纸片儿交给了她。

　　"你第一天过得怎样啊，宝贝？"接待老师如慈母般地问道。

　　"挺好的，"我撒了个谎，声音有些发虚。她好像并不太相信。

　　我来到停车场的时候，几乎就剩下我的那辆车了。车似乎像一个避难所，已经是我在这个潮湿的绿洞里所拥有的最接近家那边的东西了。我在里边坐了一会儿，一脸茫然地盯着挡风玻璃外边，仅此而已。可是，很快我就被冻得需要打开空调，于是我钥匙一转，引擎咆哮着发动起来了。我驶上了回查理家的路，一路上都在竭力不让泪水掉下来。

PREFACE




I'd never given much thought to how I would die — though I'd had reason
enough in the last few months — but even if I had, I would not have
imagined it like this.

I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of
the hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me.

Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I
loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something.

I knew that if I'd never gone to Forks, I wouldn't be facing death now.
But, terrified as I was, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision.
When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's
not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.

The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me.

===========================================================================


1. FIRST SIGHT

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was
seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was
wearing my favorite shirt — sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing
it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town
named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on
this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States
of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that
my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in
this town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I
was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past
three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two
weeks instead.

It was to Forks that I now exiled myself— an action that I took with
great horror. I detested Forks.

I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the
vigorous, sprawling city.

"Bella," my mom said to me — the last of a thousand times — before I got
on the plane. "You don't have to do this."

My mom looks like me, except with short hair and laugh lines. I felt a
spasm of panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave
my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself? Of course she
had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food
in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got
lost, but still…

"I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been saying
this lie so frequently lately that it sounded almost convincing now.

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"I will."

"I'll see you soon," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want —
I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

But I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise.

"Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great. I love you, Mom."

She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I got on the plane, and she
was gone.

It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small
plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks.
Flying doesn't bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I was
a little worried about.

Charlie had really been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed
genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time
with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten me registered for high
school and was going to help me get a car.

But it was sure to be awkward with Charlie. Neither of us was what anyone
would call verbose, and I didn't know what there was to say regardless. I
knew he was more than a little confused by my decision — like my mother
before me, I hadn't made a secret of my distaste for Forks.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen
— just unavoidable. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun.

Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser. This I was expecting, too.
Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. My primary
motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of my funds, was
that I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights
on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the
plane.

"It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he automatically
caught and steadied me. "You haven't changed much. How's Renée?"

"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." I wasn't allowed to call
him Charlie to his face.

I had only a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were too permeable for
Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter
wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of
the cruiser.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we were
strapped in.

"What kind of car?" I was suspicious of the way he said "good car for
you" as opposed to just "good car."

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."

"Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian
reservation on the coast.

"No."

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted.

That would explain why I didn't remember him. I do a good job of blocking
painful, unnecessary things from my memory.

"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued when I didn't respond, "so
he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."

"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that this
was the question he was hoping I wouldn't ask.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine — it's only a few years
old, really."

I hoped he didn't think so little of me as to believe I would give up
that easily. "When did he buy it?"

"He bought it in 1984, I think."

"Did he buy it new?"

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties — or late fifties at
the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.

"Ch — Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to
fix it if anything went wrong, and I couldn't afford a mechanic…"

"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that
anymore."

The thing, I thought to myself… it had possibilities — as a nickname, at
the very least.

"How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part I couldn't compromise
on.

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift."
Charlie peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression.

Wow. Free.

"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car."

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the
road when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his
emotions out loud. I inherited that from him. So I was looking straight
ahead as I responded.

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it." No need to add
that my being happy in Forks is an impossibility. He didn't need to
suffer along with me. And I never looked a free truck in the mouth — or
engine.

"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks.

We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that
was pretty much it for Conversation. We stared out the windows in silence.

It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green:
the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a
canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down
greenly through the leaves.

It was too green — an alien planet.

Eventually we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the small,
two-bedroom house that he'd bought with my mother in the early days of
their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had — the
early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never
changed, was my new — well, new to me — truck. It was a faded red color,
with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, I
loved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could see myself in it.
Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged —
the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched,
surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed.

"Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" Now my horrific day tomorrow would be just
that much less dreadful. I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either
walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the
Chief's cruiser.

"I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again.

It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west
bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had
been belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue
walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around the window —
these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever
made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The
desk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modem
stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation
from my mother, so that we could stay in touch easily. The rocking chair
from my baby days was still in the corner.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would
have to share with Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that
fact.

One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover. He left me
alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether
impossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile
and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the
sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape. I wasn't in the mood to go
on a real crying jag. I would save that for bedtime, when I would have to
think about the coming morning.

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and
fifty-seven — now fifty-eight — students; there were more than seven
hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here
had grown up together — their grandparents had been toddlers together.

I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak.

Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to

my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan,
sporty, blond — a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps — all the
things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red
hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender, but soft
somehow, obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye
coordination to play sports without humiliating myself — and harming both
myself and anyone else who stood too close.

When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag
of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself
up after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror as I
brushed through my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but
already I looked sallower, unhealthy. My skin could be pretty — it was
very clear, almost translucent-looking — but it all depended on color. I
had no color here.

Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I
was lying to myself. It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in. And
if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what
were my chances here?

I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't
relate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than
anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with me, never on exactly
the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things
through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs.
Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. But the cause didn't matter. All
that mattered was the effect. And tomorrow would be just the beginning.



I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The
constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade
into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later
added the pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight,
when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle.

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could
feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky
here; it was like a cage.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at
school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to
avoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife
and family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of
the three unmatching chairs and examined his small kitchen, with its dark
paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing
was changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an
attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace
in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures.
First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of
the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful
nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last
year's. Those were embarrassing to look at — I would have to see what I
could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was
living here.

It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had
never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house
anymore. I donned my jacket — which had the feel of a biohazard suit —
and headed out into the rain.

It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as
I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the
door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was
unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't
pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out
of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under

my hood.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had
obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled
faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly,
to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume.
Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio
worked, a plus that I hadn't expected.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before.
The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not
obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the
Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching
houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and
shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of the
institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences,
the metal detectors?

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the
door reading front office. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it
was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of
circling around in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of
the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark
hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door.

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was
small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked
commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock
ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there
wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long
counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored
flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one
of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was
wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed.

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Isabella Swan," I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness
light her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Daughter of
the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last.

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of
documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I
have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She brought
several sheets to the counter to show roe.

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each
on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to
bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like
Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as
convincingly as I could.

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive.
I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to
see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home
I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included
in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new
Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny
Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a
spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me.

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I
wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I
stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and
sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one
was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk,
crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed
with relief.

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large

black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my
breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the
door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats
through the door.

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside
the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them.
They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale,
with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a
nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my
name — not an encouraging response — and of course I flushed tomato red.
But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing
me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in
the back, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading
list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare,
Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That was comforting… and
boring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if
she would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments
with her in my head while the teacher droned on.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin
problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk
to me.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful,
chess club type.

"Bella," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look
at me.

"Where's your next class?" he asked.

I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building
six."

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes.

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Definitely
over-helpful. "I'm Eric," he added.

I smiled tentatively. "Thanks."

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I
could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to
eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn't getting paranoid.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.

"Very."

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"Three or four times a year."

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.

"Sunny," I told him.

"You don't look very tan."

"My mother is part albino."

He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds
and a sense of humor didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how
to use sarcasm.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym.
Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have

some other classes together." He sounded hopeful.

I smiled at him vaguely and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry
teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the
subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the
class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own
boots on the way to my seat.

After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each
class. There was always someone braver than the others who would
introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I
tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never
needed the map.

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me
to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my
five feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of
the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name, so I
smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. I didn't
try to keep up.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she
introduced to me. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them.
They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from
English, Eric, waved at me from across the room.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with
seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where
I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren't
talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of
untouched food in front of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most
of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of
meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these
things that caught, and held, my attention.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big — muscled
like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller,
leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less
bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the
others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here
rather than students.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a
beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated
swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on
her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden,
gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixielike,
thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black,
cropped short and pointing in every direction.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale,
the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than
me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair
tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes — purplish, bruiselike
shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost
done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their
features, were straight, perfect, angular.

But all this is not why I couldn't look away.

I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all
devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to
see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or
painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide
who was the most beautiful — maybe the perfect blond girl, or the
bronze-haired boy.

They were all looking away — away from each other, away from the other

students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I
watched, the small girl rose with her tray — unopened soda, unbitten
apple — and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a
runway. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer's step, till she dumped her
tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought
possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging.

"Who are they?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'd
forgotten.

As she looked up to see who I meant — though already knowing, probably,
from my tone — suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the boyish
one, the youngest, perhaps. He looked at my neighbor for just a fraction
of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine.

He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of
embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance,
his face held nothing of interest — it was as if she had called his name,
and he'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to
answer.

My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did.

"That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one
who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his
wife." She said this under her breath.

I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now,
picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. His mouth was moving
very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other three still
looked away, and yet I felt he was speaking quietly to them.

Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had.
But maybe that was in vogue here — small town names? I finally remembered
that my neighbor was called Jessica, a perfectly common name. There were
two girls named Jessica in my History class back home.

"They are… very nice-looking." I struggled with the conspicuous
understatement.

"Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. "They're all together though —
Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live
together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small
town, I thought critically. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit
that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't look related…"

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early
thirties. They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins —
the blondes — and they're foster children."

"They look a little old for foster children."

"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been
with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something
like that."

"That's really kind of nice — for them to take care of all those kids
like that, when they're so young and everything."

"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that
she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances
she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason
was jealousy. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though," she
added, as if that lessened their kindness.

Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to
the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the
walls and not eat.

"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely I would have noticed

them on one of my summers here.

"No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a
new arrival like me. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere
in Alaska."

I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they
were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the
only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any
standard.

As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up and met
my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked
swiftly away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet
expectation.

"Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?" I asked. I peeked at
him from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not
gawking like the other students had today — he had a slightly frustrated
expression. I looked down again.

"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He
doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough
for him." She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when he'd
turned her down.

I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was
turned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were
smiling, too.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They
all were noticeably graceful — even the big, brawny one. It was
unsettling to watch. The one named Edward didn't look at me again.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have
if I'd been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my
first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me
that her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked
to class together in silence. She was shy, too.

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab
table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In
fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I
recognized Edward Cullen by his unusual hair, sitting next to that single
open seat.

As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my
slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he
suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes
with the strangest expression on his face — it was hostile, furious. I
looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in
the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl
sitting there giggled.

I'd noticed that his eyes were black — coal black.

Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about
introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had
no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room.
I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by him, bewildered by the
antagonistic stare he'd given me.

I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I
saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away
from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face
like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It
smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemed an
innocent enough odor. I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a
dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher.

Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already
studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down.

I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the screen of my
hair at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never
relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from
me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a
fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never
relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his
elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his
light skin. He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next to his burly
brother.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the
day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight
fist to loosen? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like
he wasn't breathing. What was wrong with him? Was this his normal
behavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness at lunch
today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought.

It couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't know me from Eve.

I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down
at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from
him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly
ran through my mind.

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen
was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose — he was much taller than I'd
thought — his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was
out of their seat.

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It
wasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the
anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason, my
temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry,
a humiliating tendency.

"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a male voice asked.

I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully
gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously
didn't think I smelled bad.

"Bella," I corrected him, with a smile.

"I'm Mike."

"Hi, Mike."

"Do you need any help finding your next class?"

"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it."

"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that
big of a coincidence in a school this small.

We walked to class together; he was a chatterer — he supplied most of the
conversation, which made it easy for me. He'd lived in California till he
was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my
English class also. He was the nicest person I'd met today.

But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Edward
Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that."

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently,
that wasn't Edward Cullen's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.

"Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?" I asked artlessly.

"Yes," he said. "He looked like he was in pain or something."

"I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to him."

"He's a weird guy." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the
dressing room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked
to you."

I smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He
was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my
irritation.

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress
down for today's class. At home, only two years of RE. were required.
Here, P.E. was mandatory all four years. Forks was literally my personal
hell on Earth.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how
many injuries I had sustained — and inflicted — playing volleyball, I
felt faintly nauseated.

The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my
paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and
colder. I wrapped my arms around myself.

When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked
back out.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized again that
tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance.
I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be
free.

He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up
the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology
to another time — any other time.

I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something
else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look
on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was
impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike
to me.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the
room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face.
The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the
wire basket, and walked out again. But Edward Cullen's back stiffened,
and he turned slowly to glare at me — his face was absurdly handsome —
with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of
genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second,
but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the
receptionist.

"Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see
that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on
his heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.

I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and
handed her the signed slip.

"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.

"Fine," I lied, my voice weak. She didn't look convinced.

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed
like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green
hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly.
But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and
the engine roared to life. I headed back to Charlie's house, fighting
tears the whole way there.
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暮色英文版完结

24. AN IMPASSE

24. AN IMPASSE

My eyes opened to a bright, white light. I was in an unfamiliar room, a
white room. The wall beside me was covered in long vertical blinds; over
my head, the glaring lights blinded me. I was propped up on a hard,
uneven bed — a bed with rails. The pillows were flat and lumpy. There was
an annoying beeping sound somewhere close by. I hoped that meant I was
still alive. Death shouldn't be this uncomfortable.

My hands were all twisted up with clear tubes, and something was taped

across my face, under my nose. I lifted my hand to rip it off.

"No, you don't." And cool fingers caught my hand.

"Edward?" I turned my head slightly, and his exquisite face was just
inches from mine, his chin resting on the edge of my pillow. I realized
again that I was alive, this time with gratitude and elation. "Oh,
Edward, I'm so sorry!"

"Shhhh," he shushed me. "Everything's all right now."

"What happened?" I couldn't remember clearly, and my mind rebelled
against me as I tried to recall.

"I was almost too late. I could have been too late," he whispered, his
voice tormented.

"I was so stupid, Edward. I thought he had my mom."

"He tricked us all."

"I need to call Charlie and my mom," I realized through the haze.

"Alice called them. Renée is here — well, here in the hospital. She's
getting something to eat right now."

"She's here?" I tried to sit up, but the spinning in my head accelerated,
and his hand pushed me gently down onto the pillows.

"She'll be back soon," he promised. "And you need to stay still."

"But what did you tell her?" I panicked. I had no interest in being
soothed. My mom was here and I was recovering from a vampire attack. "Why
did you tell her I'm here?"

"You fell down two flights of stairs and through a window." He paused.
"You have to admit, it could happen."

I sighed, and it hurt. I stared down at my body under the sheet, the huge
lump that was my leg.

"How bad am I?" I asked.

"You have a broken leg, four broken ribs, some cracks in your skull,
bruises covering every inch of your skin, and you've lost a lot of blood.
They gave you a few transfusions. I didn't like it — it made you smell
all wrong for a while."

"That must have been a nice change for you."

"No, I like how you smell."

"How did you do it?" I asked quietly. He knew what I meant at once.

"I'm not sure." He looked away from my wondering eyes, lifting my
gauze-wrapped hand from the bed and holding it gently in his, careful not
to disrupt the wire connecting me to one of the monitors.

I waited patiently for the rest.

He sighed without returning my gaze. "It was impossible… to stop," he
whispered. "Impossible. But I did." He looked up finally, with half a
smile. "I must love you."

"Don't I taste as good as I smell?" I smiled in response. That hurt my
face.

"Even better — better than I'd imagined."

"I'm sorry," I apologized.

He raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Of all the things to apologize for."

"What should I apologize for?"

"For very nearly taking yourself away from me forever."

"I'm sorry," I apologized again.

"I know why you did it." His voice was comforting. "It was still
irrational, of course. You should have waited for me, you should have
told me."

"You wouldn't have let me go."

"No," he agreed in a grim tone, "I wouldn't."

Some very unpleasant memories were beginning to come back to me. I
shuddered, and then winced.

He was instantly anxious. "Bella, what's wrong?"

"What happened to James?"

"After I pulled him off you, Emmett and Jasper took care of him." There
was a fierce note of regret in his voice.

This confused me. "I didn't see Emmett and Jasper there."

"They had to leave the room… there was a lot of blood."

"But you stayed."

"Yes, I stayed."

"And Alice, and Carlisle…" I said in wonder.

"They love you, too, you know."

A flash of painful images from the last time I'd seen Alice reminded me
of something. "Did Alice see the tape?" I asked anxiously.

"Yes." A new sound darkened his voice, a tone of sheer hatred.

"She was always in the dark, that's why she didn't remember."

"I know. She understands now." His voice was even, but his face was black
with fury.

I tried to reach his face with my free hand, but something stopped me. I
glanced down to see the IV pulling at my hand.

"Ugh." I winced.

"What is it?" he asked anxiously — distracted, but not enough. The
bleakness did not entirely leave his eyes.

"Needles," I explained, looking away from the one in my hand. I
concentrated on a warped ceiling tile and tried to breathe deeply despite
the ache in my ribs.

"Afraid of a needle," he muttered to himself under his breath, shaking
his head. "Oh, a sadistic vampire, intent on torturing her to death,
sure, no problem, she runs off to meet him. An IV, on the other hand…"

I rolled my eyes. I was pleased to discover that this reaction, at least,
was pain-free. I decided to change the subject.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

He stared at me, first confusion and then hurt touching his eyes. His
brows pulled together as he frowned. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" I protested, horrified by the thought. "No, I meant, why does my

mother think you're here? I need to have my story straight before she
gets back."

"Oh," he said, and his forehead smoothed back into marble. "I came to
Phoenix to talk some sense into you, to convince you to come back to
Forks." His wide eyes were so earnest and sincere, I almost believed him
myself. "You agreed to see me, and you drove out to the hotel where I was
staying with Carlisle and Alice — of course I was here with parental
supervision," he inserted virtuously, "but you tripped on the stairs on
the way to my room and… well, you know the rest. You don't need to
remember any details, though; you have a good excuse to be a little
muddled about the finer points."

I thought about it for a moment. "There are a few flaws with that story.
Like no broken windows."

"Not really," he said. "Alice had a little bit too much fun fabricating
evidence. It's all been taken care of very convincingly — you could
probably sue the hotel if you wanted to. You have nothing to worry
about," he promised, stroking my cheek with the lightest of touches.
"Your only job now is to heal."

I wasn't so lost to the soreness or the fog of medication that I didn't
respond to his touch. The beeping of the monitor jumped around
erratically — now he wasn't the only one who could hear my heart
misbehave.

"That's going to be embarrassing," I muttered to myself.

He chuckled, and a speculative look came into his eye. "Hmm, I wonder…"

He leaned in slowly; the beeping noise accelerated wildly before his lips
even touched me. But when they did, though with the most gentle of
pressure, the beeping stopped altogether.

He pulled back abruptly, his anxious expression turning to relief as the
monitor reported the restarting of my heart.

"It seems that I'm going to have to be even more careful with you than
usual." He frowned.

"I was not finished kissing you," I complained. "Don't make me come over
there."

He grinned, and bent to press his lips lightly to mine. The monitor went
wild.

But then his lips were taut. He pulled away.

"I think I hear your mother," he said, grinning again.

"Don't leave me," I cried, an irrational surge of panic flooding through
me. I couldn't let him go — he might disappear from me again.

He read the terror in my eyes for a short second. "I won't," he promised
solemnly, and then he smiled. "I'll take a nap."

He moved from the hard plastic chair by my side to the turquoise
faux-leather recliner at the foot of my bed, leaning it all the way back,
and closing his eyes. He was perfectly still.

"Don't forget to breathe," I whispered sarcastically. He took a deep
breath, his eyes still closed.

I could hear my mother now. She was talking to someone, maybe a nurse,
and she sounded tired and upset. I wanted to jump out of the bed and run
to her, to calm her, promise that everything was fine. But I wasn't in
any sort of shape for jumping, so I waited impatiently.

The door opened a crack, and she peeked through.

"Mom!" I whispered, my voice full of love and relief.

She took in Edward's still form on the recliner, and tiptoed to my
bedside.

"He never leaves, does he?" she mumbled to herself.

"Mom, I'm so glad to see you!"

She bent down to hug me gently, and I felt warm tears falling on my
cheeks.

"Bella, I was so upset!"

"I'm sorry, Mom. But everything's fine now, it's okay," I comforted her.

"I'm just glad to finally see your eyes open." She sat on the edge of my
bed.

I suddenly realized I didn't have any idea when it was. "How long have
they been closed?"

"It's Friday, hon, you've been out for a while."

"Friday?" I was shocked. I tried to remember what day it had been when…
but I didn't want to think about that.

"They had to keep you sedated for a while, honey — you've got a lot of
injuries."

"I know." I could feel them.

"You're lucky Dr. Cullen was there. He's such a nice man… very young,
though. And he looks more like a model than a doctor…"

"You met Carlisle?"

"And Edward's sister Alice. She's a lovely girl."

"She is," I agreed wholeheartedly.

She glanced over her shoulder at Edward, lying with his eyes closed in
the chair. "You didn't tell me you had such good friends in Forks."

I cringed, and then moaned.

"What hurts?" she demanded anxiously, turning back to me. Edward's eyes
flashed to my face.

"It's fine," I assured them. "I just have to remember not to move." He
lapsed back into his phony slumber.

I took advantage of my mother's momentary distraction to keep the subject
from returning to my less-than-candid behavior. "Where's Phil?" I asked
quickly.

"Florida — oh, Bella! You'll never guess! Just when we were about to
leave, the best news!"

"Phil got signed?" I guessed.

"Yes! How did you guess! The Suns, can you believe it?"

"That's great, Mom," I said as enthusiastically as I could manage, though
I had little idea what that meant.

"And you'll like Jacksonville so much," she gushed while I stared at her
vacantly. "I was a little bit worried when Phil started talking about
Akron, what with the snow and everything, because you know how I hate the
cold, but now Jacksonville! It's always sunny, and the humidity really
isn't that bad. We found the cutest house, yellow, with white trim, and a
porch just like in an old movie, and this huge oak tree, and it's just a
few minutes from the ocean, and you'll have your own bathroom —"

"Wait, Mom!" I interrupted. Edward still had his eyes closed, but he
looked too tense to pass as asleep. "What are you talking about? I'm not
going to Florida. I live in Forks."

"But you don't have to anymore, silly," she laughed. "Phil will be able
to be around so much more now… we've talked about it a lot, and what I'm
going to do is trade off on the away games, half the time with you, half
the time with him."

"Mom." I hesitated, wondering how best to be diplomatic about this. "I
want to live in Forks. I'm already settled in at school, and I have a
couple of girlfriends" — she glanced toward Edward again when I reminded
her of friends, so I tried another direction — "and Charlie needs me.
He's just all alone up there, and he can't cook at all."

"You want to stay in Forks?" she asked, bewildered. The idea was
inconceivable to her. And then her eyes flickered back toward Edward.
"Why?"

"I told you — school, Charlie — ouch!" I'd shrugged. Not a good idea.

Her hands fluttered helplessly over me, trying to find a safe place to
pat. She made do with my forehead; it was unbandaged.

"Bella, honey, you hate Forks," she reminded me.

"It's not so bad."

She frowned and looked back and forth between Edward and me, this time
very deliberately.

"Is it this boy?" she whispered.

I opened my mouth to lie, but her eyes were scrutinizing my face, and I
knew she would see through that.

"He's part of it," I admitted. No need to confess how big a part. "So,
have you had a chance to talk with Edward?" I asked.

"Yes." She hesitated, looking at his perfectly still form. "And I want to
talk to you about that."

Uh-oh. "What about?" I asked.

"I think that boy is in love with you," she accused, keeping her voice
low.

"I think so, too," I confided.

"And how do you feel about him?" She only poorly concealed the raging
curiosity in her voice.

I sighed, looking away. As much as I loved my mom, this was not a
conversation I wanted to have with her. "I'm pretty crazy about him."
There — that sounded like something a teenager with her first boyfriend
might say.

"Well, he seems very nice, and, my goodness, he's incredibly
good-looking, but you're so young, Bella…" Her voice was unsure; as far
as I could remember, this was the first time since I was eight that she'd
come close to trying to sound like a parental authority. I recognized the
reasonable-but-firm tone of voice from talks I'd had with her about men.

"I know that, Mom. Don't worry about it. It's just a crush," I soothed
her.

"That's right," she agreed, easily pleased.

Then she sighed and glanced guiltily over her shoulder at the big, round
clock on the wall.

"Do you need to go?"

She bit her lip. "Phil's supposed to call in a little while… I didn't
know you were going to wake up…"

"No problem, Mom." I tried to tone down the relief so she wouldn't get
her feelings hurt. "I won't be alone."

"I'll be back soon. I've been sleeping here, you know," she announced,
proud of herself.

"Oh, Mom, you don't have to do that! You can sleep at home — I'll never
notice." The swirl of painkillers in my brain was making it hard to
concentrate even now, though, apparently, I'd been sleeping for days.

"I was too nervous," she admitted sheepishly. "There's been some crime in
the neighborhood, and I don't like being there alone."

"Crime?" I asked in alarm.

"Someone broke into that dance studio around the corner from the house
and burned it to the ground — there's nothing left at all! And they left
a stolen car right out front. Do you remember when you used to dance
there, honey?"

"I remember." I shivered, and winced.

"I can stay, baby, if you need me."

"No, Mom, I'll be fine. Edward will be with me."

She looked like that might be why she wanted to stay. "I'll be back
tonight." It sounded as much like a warning as it sounded like a promise,
and she glanced at Edward again as she said it.

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, Bella. Try to be more careful when you walk, honey, I
don't want to lose you."

Edward's eyes stayed closed, but a wide grin flashed across his face.

A nurse came bustling in then to check all my tubes and wires. My mother
kissed my forehead, patted my gauze-wrapped hand, and left.

The nurse was checking the paper readout on my heart monitor.

"Are you feeling anxious, honey? Your heart rate got a little high there."

"I'm fine," I assured her.

"I'll tell your RN that you're awake. She'll be in to see you in a
minute."

As soon as she closed the door, Edward was at my side.

"You stole a car?" I raised my eyebrows.

He smiled, unrepentant. "It was a good car, very fast."

"How was your nap?" I asked.

"Interesting." His eyes narrowed.

"What?"

He looked down while he answered. "I'm surprised. I thought Florida… and
your mother… well, I thought that's what you would want."

I stared at him uncomprehendingly. "But you'd be stuck inside all day in
Florida. You'd only be able to come out at night, just like a real
vampire."

He almost smiled, but not quite. And then his face was grave. "I would
stay in Forks, Bella. Or somewhere like it," he explained. "Someplace
where I couldn't hurt you anymore."

It didn't sink in at first. I continued to stare at him blankly as the
words one by one clicked into place in my head like a ghastly puzzle. I
was barely conscious of the sound of my heart accelerating, though, as my
breathing became hyperventilation, I was aware of the sharp aching in my
protesting ribs.

He didn't say anything; he watched my face warily as the pain that had
nothing to do with broken bones, pain that was infinitely worse,
threatened to crush me.

And then another nurse walked purposefully into the room. Edward sat
still as stone as she took in my expression with a practiced eye before
turning to the monitors.

"Time for more pain meds, sweetheart?" she asked kindly, tapping the IV
feed.

"No, no," I mumbled, trying to keep the agony out of my voice. "I don't
need anything." I couldn't afford to close my eyes now.

"No need to be brave, honey. It's better if you don't get too stressed
out; you need to rest." She waited, but I just shook my head.

"Okay," she sighed. "Hit the call button when you're ready."

She gave Edward a stern look, and threw one more anxious glance at the
machinery, before leaving.

His cool hands were on my face; I stared at him with wild eyes.

"Shhh, Bella, calm down."

"Don't leave me," I begged in a broken voice.

"I won't," he promised. "Now relax before I call the nurse back to sedate
you."

But my heart couldn't slow.

"Bella." He stroked my face anxiously. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be
right here as long as you need me."

"Do you swear you won't leave me?" I whispered. I tried to control the
gasping, at least. My ribs were throbbing.

He put his hands on either side of my face and brought his face close to
mine. His eyes were wide and serious. "I swear."

The smell of his breath was soothing. It seemed to ease the ache of my
breathing. He continued to hold my gaze while my body slowly relaxed and
the beeping returned to a normal pace. His eyes were dark, closer to
black than gold today.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yes," I said cautiously.

He shook his head and muttered something unintelligible. I thought I
picked out the word "overreaction."

"Why did you say that?" I whispered, trying to keep my voice from
shaking. "Are you tired of having to save me all the time? Do you want me
to go away?"

"No, I don't want to be without you, Bella, of course not. Be rational.
And I have no problem with saving you, either — if it weren't for the
fact that I was the one putting you in danger… that I'm the reason that

you're here."

"Yes, you are the reason." I frowned. "The reason I'm here — alive."

"Barely." His voice was just a whisper. "Covered in gauze and plaster and
hardly able to move."

"I wasn't referring to my most recent near-death experience," I said,
growing irritated. "I was thinking of the others — you can take your
pick. If it weren't for you, I would be rotting away in the Forks
cemetery."

He winced at my words, but the haunted look didn't leave his eyes.

"That's not the worst part, though," he continued to whisper. He acted as
if I hadn't spoken. "Not seeing you there on the floor… crumpled and
broken." His voice was choked. "Not thinking I was too late. Not even
hearing you scream in pain — all those unbearable memories that I'll
carry with me for the rest of eternity. No, the very worst was feeling…
knowing that I couldn't stop. Believing that I was going to kill you
myself."

"But you didn't."

"I could have. So easily."

I knew I needed to stay calm… but he was trying to talk himself into
leaving me, and the panic fluttered in my lungs, trying to get out.

"Promise me," I whispered.

"What?"

"You know what." I was starting to get angry now. He was so stubbornly
determined to dwell on the negative.

He heard the change in my tone. His eyes tightened. "I don't seem to be
strong enough to stay away from you, so I suppose that you'll get your
way… whether it kills you or not," he added roughly.

"Good." He hadn't promised, though — a fact that I had not missed. The
panic was only barely contained; I had no strength left to control the
anger. "You told me how you stopped… now I want to know why," I demanded.

"Why?" he repeated warily.

"Why you did it. Why didn't you just let the venom spread? By now I would
be just like you."

Edward's eyes seemed to turn flat black, and I remembered that this was
something he'd never intended me to know. Alice must have been
preoccupied by the things she'd learned about herself… or she'd been very
careful with her thoughts around him — clearly, he'd had no idea that
she'd filled me in on the mechanics of vampire conversions. He was
surprised, and infuriated. His nostrils flared, his mouth looked as if it
was chiseled from stone.

He wasn't going to answer, that much was clear.

"I'll be the first to admit that I have no experience with
relationships," I said. "But it just seems logical… a man and woman have
to be somewhat equal… as in, one of them can't always be swooping in and
saving the other one. They have to save each other equally."

He folded his arms on the side of my bed and rested his chin on his arms.
His expression was smooth, the anger reined in. Evidently he'd decided he
wasn't angry with me. I hoped I'd get a chance to warn Alice before he
caught up with her.

"You have saved me," he said quietly.

"I can't always be Lois Lane," I insisted. "I want to be Superman, too."

"You don't know what you're asking." His voice was soft; he stared
intently at the edge of the pillowcase.

"I think I do."

"Bella, you don't know. I've had almost ninety years to think about this,
and I'm still not sure."

"Do you wish that Carlisle hadn't saved you?"

"No, I don't wish that." He paused before continuing. "But my life was
over. I wasn't giving anything up."

"You are my life. You're the only thing it would hurt me to lose." I was
getting better at this. It was easy to admit how much I needed him.

He was very calm, though. Decided.

"I can't do it, Bella. I won't do that to you."

"Why not?" My throat rasped and the words weren't as loud as I'd meant
them to be. "Don't tell me it's too hard! After today, or I guess it was
a few days ago… anyway, after that, it should be nothing."

He glared at me.

"And the pain?" he asked.

I blanched. I couldn't help it. But I tried to keep my expression from
showing how clearly I remembered the feeling… the fire in my veins.

"That's my problem," I said. "I can handle it."

"It's possible to take bravery to the point where it becomes insanity."

"It's not an issue. Three days. Big deal."

Edward grimaced again as my words reminded him that I was more informed
than he had ever intended me to be. I watched him repress the anger,
watched as his eyes grew speculative.

"Charlie?" he asked curtly. "Renée?"

Minutes passed in silence as I struggled to answer his question. I opened
my mouth, but no sound came out. I closed it again. He waited, and his
expression became triumphant because he knew I had no true answer.

"Look, that's not an issue either," I finally muttered; my voice was as
unconvincing as it always was when I lied. "Renée has always made the
choices that work for her — she'd want me to do the same. And Charlie's
resilient, he's used to being on his own. I can't take care of them
forever. I have my own life to live."

"Exactly," he snapped. "And I won't end it for you."

"If you're waiting for me to be on my deathbed, I've got news for you! I
was just there!"

"You're going to recover," he reminded me.

I took a deep breath to calm myself, ignoring the spasm of pain it
triggered. I stared at him, and he stared back. There was no compromise
in his face.

"No," I said slowly. "I'm not."

His forehead creased. "Of course you are. You may have a scar or two…"

"You're wrong," I insisted. "I'm going to die."

"Really, Bella." He was anxious now. "You'll be out of here in a few

days. Two week at most."

I glared at him. "I may not die now… but I'm going to die sometime. Every
minute of the day, I get closer. And I'm going to get old."

He frowned as what I was saying sunk in, pressing his long fingers to his
temples and closing his eyes. "That's how it's supposed to happen. How it
should happen. How it would have happened if I didn't exist — and I
shouldn't exist."

I snorted. He opened his eyes in surprise. "That's stupid. That's like
going to someone who's just won the lottery, taking their money, and
saying, 'Look, let's just go back to how things should be. It's better
that way.' And I'm not buying it."

"I'm hardly a lottery prize," he growled.

"That's right. You're much better."

He rolled his eyes and set his lips. "Bella, we're not having this
discussion anymore. I refuse to damn you to an eternity of night and
that's the end of it."

"If you think that's the end, then you don't know me very well," I warned
him. "You're not the only vampire I know."

His eyes went black again. "Alice wouldn't dare."

And for a moment he looked so frightening that I couldn't help but
believe it — I couldn't imagine someone brave enough to cross him.

"Alice already saw it, didn't she?" I guessed. "That's why the things she
says upset you. She knows I'm going to be like you… someday."

"She's wrong. She also saw you dead, but that didn't happen, either."

"You'll never catch me betting against Alice."

We stared at each other for a very long time. It was quiet except for the
whirring of the machines, the beeping, the dripping, the ticking of the
big clock on the wall. Finally, his expression softened.

"So where does that leave us?" I wondered.

He chuckled humorlessly. "I believe it's called an impasse."

I sighed. "Ouch," I muttered.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, eyeing the button for the nurse.

"I'm fine," I lied.

"I don't believe you," he said gently.

"I'm not going back to sleep."

"You need rest. All this arguing isn't good for you."

"So give in," I hinted.

"Nice try." He reached for the button.

"No!"

He ignored me.

"Yes?" the speaker on the wall squawked.

"I think we're ready for more pain medication," he said calmly, ignoring
my furious expression.

"I'll send in the nurse." The voice sounded very bored.

"I won't take it," I promised.

He looked toward the sack of fluids hanging beside my bed. "I don't think
they're going to ask you to swallow anything."

My heart rate started to climb. He read the fear in my eyes, and sighed
in frustration.

"Bella, you're in pain. You need to relax so you can heal. Why are you
being so difficult? They're not going to put any more needles in you now."

"I'm not afraid of the needles," I mumbled. "I'm afraid to close my eyes."

Then he smiled his crooked smile, and took my face between his hands. "I
told you I'm not going anywhere. Don't be afraid. As long as it makes you
happy, I'll be here."

I smiled back, ignoring the ache in my cheeks. "You're talking about
forever, you know."

"Oh, you'll get over it — it's just a crush."

I shook my head in disbelief— it made me dizzy. "I was shocked when Renée
swallowed that one. I know you know better."

"That's the beautiful thing about being human," he told me. "Things
change."

My eyes narrowed. "Don't hold your breath."

He was laughing when the nurse came in, brandishing a syringe.

"Excuse me," she said brusquely to Edward.

He got up and crossed to the end of the small room, leaning against the
wall. He folded his arms and waited. I kept my eyes on him, still
apprehensive. He met my gaze calmly.

"Here you go, honey." The nurse smiled as she injected the medicine into
my tube. "You'll feel better now."

"Thanks," I mumbled, unenthusiastic. It didn't take long. I could feel
the drowsiness trickling through my bloodstream almost immediately.

"That ought to do it," she muttered as my eyelids drooped.

She must have left the room, because something cold and smooth touched my
face.

"Stay." The word was slurred.

"I will," he promised. His voice was beautiful, like a lullaby. "Like I
said, as long as it makes you happy… as long as it's what's best for you."

I tried to shake my head, but it was too heavy. "'S not the same thing,"
I mumbled.

He laughed. "Don't worry about that now, Bella. You can argue with me
when you wake up."

I think I smiled. '"Kay."

I could feel his lips at my ear.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Me, too."

"I know," he laughed quietly.

I turned my head slightly… searching. He knew what I was after. His lips

touched mine gently.

"Thanks," I sighed.

"Anytime."

I wasn't really there at all anymore. But I fought against the stupor
weakly. There was just one more thing I wanted to tell him.

"Edward?" I struggled to pronounce his name clearly.

"Yes?"

"I'm betting on Alice," I mumbled.

And then the night closed over me.

===========================================================================


EPILOGUE:AN OCCASION




Edward helped me into his car, being very careful of the wisps of silk
and chiffon, the flowers he'd just pinned into my elaborately styled
curls, and my bulky walking cast. He ignored the angry set of my mouth.

When he had me settled, he got in the driver's seat and headed back out
the long, narrow drive.

"At what point exactly are you going to tell me what's going on?" I asked
grumpily. I really hated surprises. And he knew that.

"I'm shocked that you haven't figured it out yet." He threw a mocking
smile in my direction, and my breath caught in my throat. Would I ever
get used to his perfection?

"I did mention that you looked very nice, didn't I?" I verified.

"Yes." He grinned again. I'd never seen him dress in black before, and,
with the contrast against his pale skin, his beauty was absolutely
surreal. That much I couldn't deny, even if the fact that he was wearing
a tuxedo made me very nervous.

Not quite as nervous as the dress. Or the shoe. Only one shoe, as my
other foot was still securely encased in plaster. But the stiletto heel,
held on only by satin ribbons, certainly wasn't going to help me as I
tried to hobble around.

"I'm not coming over anymore if Alice is going to treat me like Guinea
Pig Barbie when I do," I griped. I'd spent the better part of the day in
Alice's staggeringly vast bathroom, a helpless victim as she played
hairdresser and cosmetician. Whenever I fidgeted or complained, she
reminded me that she didn't have any memories of being human, and asked
me not to ruin her vicarious fun. Then she'd dressed me in the most
ridiculous dress — deep blue, frilly and off the shoulders, with French
tags I couldn't read — a dress more suitable for a runway than Forks.
Nothing good could come of our formal attire, of that I was sure. Unless…
but I was afraid to put my suspicions into words, even in my own head.

I was distracted then by the sound of a phone ringing. Edward pulled his
cell phone from a pocket inside his jacket, looking briefly at the caller
ID before answering.

"Hello, Charlie," he said warily.

"Charlie?" I frowned.

Charlie had been… difficult since my return to Forks. He had

compartmentalized my bad experience into two defined reactions. Toward
Carlisle he was almost worshipfully grateful. On the other hand, he was
stubbornly convinced that Edward was at fault — because, if not for him,
I wouldn't have left home in the first place. And Edward was far from
disagreeing with him. These days I had rules that hadn't existed before:
curfews… visiting hours.

Something Charlie was saying made Edward's eyes widen in disbelief, and
then a grin spread across his face.

"You're kidding!" He laughed.

"What is it?" I demanded.

He ignored me. "Why don't you let me talk to him?" Edward suggested with
evident pleasure. He waited for a few seconds.

"Hello, Tyler, this is Edward Cullen." His voice was very friendly, on
the surface. I knew it well enough to catch the soft edge of menace. What
was Tyler doing at my house? The awful truth began to dawn on me. I
looked again at the inappropriate dress Alice had forced me into.

"I'm sorry if there's been some kind of miscommunication, but Bella is
unavailable tonight." Edward's tone changed, and the threat in his voice
was suddenly much more evident as he continued. "To be perfectly honest,
she'll be unavailable every night, as far as anyone besides myself is
concerned. No offense. And I'm sorry about your evening." He didn't sound
sorry at all. And then he snapped the phone shut, a huge smirk on his
face.

My face and neck flushed crimson with anger. I could feel the
rage-induced tears starting to fill my eyes.

He looked at me in surprise. "Was that last part a bit too much? I didn't
mean to offend you."

I ignored that.

"You're taking me to the prom!" I yelled.

It was embarrassingly obvious now. If I'd been paying any attention at
all, I'm sure I would have noticed the date on the posters that decorated
the school buildings. But I'd never dreamed he was thinking of subjecting
me to this. Didn't he know me at all?

He wasn't expecting the force of my reaction, that was clear. He pressed
his lips together and his eyes narrowed. "Don't be difficult, Bella."

My eyes flashed to the window; we were halfway to the school already.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I demanded in horror.

He gestured to his tuxedo. "Honestly, Bella, what did you think we were
doing?"

I was mortified. First, because I'd missed the obvious. And also because
the vague suspicions — expectations, really — that I'd been forming all
day, as Alice tried to transform me into a beauty queen, were so far wide
of the mark. My half-fearful hopes seemed very silly now.

I'd guessed there was some kind of occasion brewing. But prom! That was
the furthest thing from my mind.

The angry tears rolled over my cheeks. I remembered with dismay that I
was very uncharacteristically wearing mascara. I wiped quickly under my
eyes to prevent any smudges. My hand was unblackened when I pulled it
away; maybe Alice had known I would need waterproof makeup.

"This is completely ridiculous. Why are you crying?" he demanded in
frustration.

"Because I'm mad!"

"Bella." He turned the full force of his scorching golden eyes on me.

"What?" I muttered, distracted.

"Humor me," he insisted.

His eyes were melting all my fury. It was impossible to fight with him
when he cheated like that. I gave in with poor grace.

"Fine," I pouted, unable to glare as effectively as I would have liked.
"I'll go quietly. But you'll see. I'm way overdue for more bad luck. I'll
probably break my other leg. Look at this shoe! It's a death trap!" I
held out my good leg as evidence.

"Hmmm." He stared at my leg longer than was necessary. "Remind me to
thank Alice for that tonight."

"Alice is going to be there?" That comforted me slightly.

"With Jasper, and Emmett… and Rosalie," he admitted.

The feeling of comfort disappeared. There had been no progress with
Rosalie, though I was on quite good terms with her sometimes-husband.
Emmett enjoyed having me around — he thought my bizarre human reactions
were hilarious… or maybe it was just the fact that I fell down a lot that
he found so funny. Rosalie acted as if I didn't exist. While I shook my
head to dispel the direction my thoughts had taken, I thought of
something else.

"Is Charlie in on this?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Of course." He grinned, and then chuckled. "Apparently Tyler wasn't,
though."

I gritted my teeth. How Tyler could be so delusional, I couldn't imagine.
At school, where Charlie couldn't interfere, Edward and I were
inseparable — except for those rare sunny days.

We were at the school now; Rosalie's red convertible was conspicuous in
the parking lot. The clouds were thin today, a few streaks of sunlight
escaping through far away in the west.

He got out and walked around the car to open my door. He held out his
hand.

I sat stubbornly in my seat, arms folded, feeling a secret twinge of
smugness. The lot was crowded with people in formal dress: witnesses. He
couldn't remove me forcibly from the car as he might have if we'd been
alone.

He sighed. "When someone wants to kill you, you're brave as a lion — and
then when someone mentions dancing…" He shook his head.

I gulped. Dancing.

"Bella, I won't let anything hurt you — not even yourself. I won't let go
of you once, I promise."

I thought about that and suddenly felt much better. He could see that in
my face.

"There, now," he said gently, "it won't be so bad." He leaned down and
wrapped one arm around my waist. I took his other hand and let him lift
me from the car.

He kept his arm tightly around me, supporting me as I limped toward the
school.

In Phoenix, they held proms in hotel ballrooms. This dance was in the
gym, of course. It was probably the only room in town big enough for a
dance. When we got inside, I giggled. There were actual balloon arches

and twisted garlands of pastel crepe paper festooning the walls.

"This looks like a horror movie waiting to happen," I snickered.

"Well," he muttered as we slowly approached the ticket table — he was
carrying most of my weight, but I still had to shuffle and wobble my feet
forward — "there are more than enough vampires present."

I looked at the dance floor; a wide gap had formed in the center of the
floor, where two couples whirled gracefully. The other dancers pressed to
the sides of the room to give them space — no one wanted to stand in
contrast with such radiance. Emmett and Jasper were intimidating and
flawless in classic tuxedos. Alice was striking in a black satin dress
with geometric cutouts that bared large triangles of her snowy white
skin. And Rosalie was… well, Rosalie. She was beyond belief. Her vivid
scarlet dress was backless, tight to her calves where it flared into a
wide ruffled train, with a neckline that plunged to her waist. I pitied
every girl in the room, myself included.

"Do you want me to bolt the doors so you can massacre the unsuspecting
townsfolk?" I whispered conspiratorially.

"And where do you fit into that scheme?" He glared.

"Oh, I'm with the vampires, of course."

He smiled reluctantly. "Anything to get out of dancing."

"Anything."

He bought our tickets, then turned me toward the dance floor. I cringed
against his arm and dragged my feet.

"I've got all night," he warned.

Eventually he towed me out to where his family was twirling elegantly —
if in a style totally unsuitable to the present time and music. I watched
in horror.

"Edward." My throat was so dry I could only manage a whisper. "I honestly
can't dance!" I could feel the panic bubbling up inside my chest.

"Don't worry, silly," he whispered back. "I can." He put my arms around
his neck and lifted me to slide his feet under mine.

And then we were whirling, too.

"I feel like I'm five years old," I laughed after a few minutes of
effortless waltzing.

"You don't look five," he murmured, pulling me closer for a second, so
that my feet were briefly a foot from the ground.

Alice caught my eye on a turn and smiled in encouragement — I smiled
back. I was surprised to realize that I was actually enjoying myself… a
little.

"Okay, this isn't half bad," I admitted.

But Edward was staring toward the doors, and his face was angry.

"What is it?" I wondered aloud. I followed his gaze, disoriented by the
spinning, but finally I could see what was bothering him. Jacob Black,
not in a tux, but in a long-sleeved white shirt and tie, his hair
smoothed back into his usual ponytail, was crossing the floor toward us.

After the first shock of recognition, I couldn't help but feel bad for
Jacob. He was clearly uncomfortable — excruciatingly so. His face was
apologetic as his eyes met mine.

Edward snarled very quietly.

"Behave!" I hissed.

Edward's voice was scathing. "He wants to chat with you."

Jacob reached us then, the embarrassment and apology even more evident on
his face.

"Hey, Bella, I was hoping you would be here." Jacob sounded like he'd
been hoping the exact opposite. But his smile was just as warm as ever.

"Hi, Jacob." I smiled back. "What's up?"

"Can I cut in?" he asked tentatively, glancing at Edward for the first
time. I was shocked to notice that Jacob didn't have to look up. He must
have grown half a foot since the first time I'd seen him.

Edward's face was composed, his expression blank. His only answer was to
set me carefully on my feet, and take a step back.

"Thanks," Jacob said amiably.

Edward just nodded, looking at me intently before he turned to walk away.

Jacob put his hands on my waist, and I reached up to put my hands on his
shoulders.

"Wow, Jake, how tall are you now?"

He was smug. "Six-two."

We weren't really dancing — my leg made that impossible. Instead we
swayed awkwardly from side to side without moving our feet. It was just
as well; the recent growth spurt had left him looking gangly and
uncoordinated, he was probably no better a dancer than I was.

"So, how did you end up here tonight?" I asked without true curiosity.
Considering Edward's reaction, I could guess.

"Can you believe my dad paid me twenty bucks to come to your prom?" he
admitted, slightly ashamed.

"Yes, I can," I muttered. "Well, I hope you're enjoying yourself, at
least. Seen anything you like?" I teased, nodding toward a group of girls
lined up against the wall like pastel confections.

"Yeah," he sighed. "But she's taken."

He glanced down to meet my curious gaze for just a second — then we both
looked away, embarrassed.

"You look really pretty, by the way," he added shyly.

"Um, thanks. So why did Billy pay you to come here?" I asked quickly,
though I knew the answer.

Jacob didn't seem grateful for the subject change; he looked away,
uncomfortable again. "He said it was a 'safe' place to talk to you. I
swear the old man is losing his mind."

I joined in his laughter weakly.

"Anyway, he said that if I told you something, he would get me that
master cylinder I need," he confessed with a sheepish grin.

"Tell me, then. I want you to get your car finished." I grinned back. At
least Jacob didn't believe any of this. It made the situation a bit
easier. Against the wall, Edward was watching my face, his own face
expressionless. I saw a sophomore in a pink dress eyeing him with timid
speculation, but he didn't seem to be aware of her.

Jacob looked away again, ashamed. "Don't get mad, okay?"

"There's no way I'll be mad at you, Jacob," I assured him. "I won't even
be mad at Billy. Just say what you have to."

"Well — this is so stupid, I'm sorry, Bella — he wants you to break up
with your boyfriend. He asked me to tell you 'please.'" He shook his head
in disgust.

"He's still superstitious, eh?"

"Yeah. He was… kind of over the top when you got hurt down in Phoenix. He
didn't believe…"Jacob trailed off self-consciously.

My eyes narrowed. "I fell."

"I know that," Jacob said quickly.

"He thinks Edward had something to do with me getting hurt." It wasn't a
question, and despite my promise, I was angry.

Jacob wouldn't meet my eyes. We weren't even bothering to sway to the
music, though his hands were still on my waist, and mine around his neck.

"Look, Jacob, I know Billy probably won't believe this, but just so you
know" — he looked at me now, responding to the new earnestness in my
voice — "Edward really did save my life. If it weren't for Edward and his
father, I'd be dead."

"I know," he claimed, but he sounded like my sincere words had affected
him some. Maybe he'd be able to convince Billy of this much, at least.

"Hey, I'm sorry you had to come do this, Jacob," I apologized. "At any
rate, you get your parts, right?"

"Yeah," he muttered. He was still looking awkward… upset.

"There's more?" I asked in disbelief.

"Forget it," he mumbled, "I'll get a job and save the money myself."

I glared at him until he met my gaze. "Just spit it out, Jacob."

"It's so bad."

"I don't care. Tell me," I insisted.

"Okay… but, geez, this sounds bad." He shook his head. "He said to tell
you, no, to warn you, that — and this is his plural, not mine" — he
lifted one hand from my waist and made little quotations marks in the air
— '"We'll be watching.'" He watched warily for my reaction.

It sounded like something from a mafia movie. I laughed out loud.

"Sorry you had to do this, Jake," I snickered.

"I don't mind that much." He grinned in relief. His eyes were appraising
as they raked quickly over my dress. "So, should I tell him you said to
butt the hell out?" he asked hopefully.

"No," I sighed. "Tell him I said thanks. I know he means well."

The song ended, and I dropped my arms.

His hands hesitated at my waist, and he glanced at my bum leg. "Do you
want to dance again? Or can I help you get somewhere?"

Edward answered for me. "That's all right, Jacob. I'll take it from here."

Jacob flinched, and stared wide-eyed at Edward, who stood just beside us.

"Hey, I didn't see you there," he mumbled. "I guess I'll see you around,
Bella." He stepped back, waving halfheartedly.

I smiled. "Yeah, I'll see you later."

"Sorry," he said again before he turned for the door.

Edward's arms wound around me as the next song started. It was a little
up-tempo for slow dancing, but that didn't seem to concern him. I leaned
my head against his chest, content.

"Feeling better?" I teased.

"Not really," he said tersely.

"Don't be mad at Billy," I sighed. "He just worries about me for
Charlie's sake. It's nothing personal."

"I'm not mad at Billy," he corrected in a clipped voice. "But his son is
irritating me."

I pulled back to look at him. His face was very serious.

"Why?"

"First of all, he made me break my promise."

I stared at him in confusion.

He half-smiled. "I promised I wouldn't let go of you tonight," he
explained.

"Oh. Well, I forgive you."

"Thanks. But there's something else." Edward frowned.

I waited patiently.

"He called you pretty," he finally continued, his frown deepening.
"That's practically an insult, the way you look right now. You're much
more than beautiful."

I laughed. "You might be a little biased."

"I don't think that's it. Besides, I have excellent eyesight."

We were twirling again, my feet on his as he held me close.

"So are you going to explain the reason for all of this?" I wondered.

He looked down at me, confused, and I glared meaningfully at the crepe
paper.

He considered for a moment, and then changed direction, spinning me
through the crowd to the back door of the gym. I caught a glimpse of
Jessica and Mike dancing, staring at me curiously. Jessica waved, and I
smiled back quickly. Angela was there, too, looking blissfully happy in
the arms of little Ben Cheney; she didn't look up from his eyes, a head
lower than hers. Lee and Samantha, Lauren, glaring toward us, with
Conner; I could name every face that spiraled past me. And then we were
outdoors, in the cool, dim light of a fading sunset.

As soon as we were alone, he swung me up into his arms, and carried me
across the dark grounds till he reached the bench beneath the shadow of
the madrone trees. He sat there, keeping me cradled against his chest.
The moon was already up, visible through the gauzy clouds, and his face
glowed pale in the white light. His mouth was hard, his eyes troubled.

"The point?" I prompted softly.

He ignored me, staring up at the moon.

"Twilight, again," he murmured. "Another ending. No matter how perfect
the day is, it always has to end."

"Some things don't have to end," I muttered through my teeth, instantly
tense.

He sighed.

"I brought you to the prom," he said slowly, finally answering my
question, "because I don't want you to miss anything. I don't want my
presence to take anything away from you, if I can help it. I want you to
be human. I want your life to continue as it would have if I'd died in
nineteen-eighteen like I should have."

I shuddered at his words, and then shook my head angrily. "In what
strange parallel dimension would I ever have gone to prom of my own free
will? If you weren't a thousand times stronger than me, I would never
have let you get away with this."

He smiled briefly, but it didn't touch his eyes. "It wasn't so bad, you
said so yourself."

"That's because I was with you."

We were quiet for a minute; he stared at the moon and I stared at him. I
wished there was some way to explain how very uninterested I was in a
normal human life.

"Will you tell me something?" he asked, glancing down at me with a slight
smile.

"Don't I always?"

"Just promise you'll tell me," he insisted, grinning.

I knew I was going to regret this almost instantly. "Fine."

"You seemed honestly surprised when you figured out that I was taking you
here," he began.

"I was," I interjected.

"Exactly," he agreed. "But you must have had some other theory… I'm
curious — what did you think I was dressing you up for?"

Yes, instant regret. I pursed my lips, hesitating. "I don't want to tell
you."

"You promised," he objected.

"I know."

"What's the problem?"

I knew he thought it was mere embarrassment holding me back. "I think it
will make you mad — or sad."

His brows pulled together over his eyes as he thought that through. "I
still want to know. Please?"

I sighed. He waited.

"Well… I assumed it was some kind of… occasion. But I didn't think it
would be some trite human thing… prom!" I scoffed.

"Human?" he asked flatly. He'd picked up on the key word.

I looked down at my dress, fidgeting with a stray piece of chiffon. He
waited in silence.

"Okay," I confessed in a rush. "So I was hoping that you might have
changed your mind… that you were going to change me, after all."

A dozen emotions played across his face. Some I recognized: anger… pain…
and then he seemed to collect himself and his expression became amused.

"You thought that would be a black tie occasion, did you?" he teased,
touching the lapel of his tuxedo jacket.

I scowled to hide my embarrassment. "I don't know how these things work.
To me, at least, it seems more rational than prom does." He was still
grinning. "It's not funny," I said.

"No, you're right, it's not," he agreed, his smile fading. "I'd rather
treat it like a joke, though, than believe you're serious."

"But I am serious."

He sighed deeply. "I know. And you're really that willing?"

The pain was back in his eyes. I bit my lip and nodded.

"So ready for this to be the end," he murmured, almost to himself, "for
this to be the twilight of your life, though your life has barely
started. You're ready to give up everything."

"It's not the end, it's the beginning," I disagreed under my breath.

"I'm not worth it," he said sadly.

"Do you remember when you told me that I didn't see myself very clearly?"
I asked, raising my eyebrows. "You obviously have the same blindness."

"I know what I am."

I sighed.

But his mercurial mood shifted on me. He pursed his lips, and his eyes
were probing. He examined my face for a long moment.

"You're ready now, then?" he asked.

"Um." I gulped. "Yes?"

He smiled, and inclined his head slowly until his cold lips brushed
against the skin just under the corner of my jaw.

"Right now?" he whispered, his breath blowing cool on my neck. I shivered
involuntarily.

"Yes," I whispered, so my voice wouldn't have a chance to break. If he
thought I was bluffing, he was going to be disappointed. I'd already made
this decision, and I was sure. It didn't matter that my body was rigid as
a plank, my hands balled into fists, my breathing erratic…

He chuckled darkly, and leaned away. His face did look disappointed.

"You can't really believe that I would give in so easily," he said with a
sour edge to his mocking tone.

"A girl can dream."

His eyebrows rose. "Is that what you dream about? Being a monster?"

"Not exactly," I said, frowning at his word choice. Monster, indeed.
"Mostly I dream about being with you forever."

His expression changed, softened and saddened by the subtle ache in my
voice.

"Bella." His fingers lightly traced the shape of my lips. "I will stay
with you — isn't that enough?"

I smiled under his fingertips. "Enough for now."

He frowned at my tenacity. No one was going to surrender tonight. He
exhaled, and the sound was practically a growl.

I touched his face. "Look," I said. "I love you more than everything else
in the world combined. Isn't that enough?"

"Yes, it is enough," he answered, smiling. "Enough for forever."

And he leaned down to press his cold lips once more to my throat.
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离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
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第二十四章 僵局
第二十四章 僵局

我睁开眼睛，对上了一盏明亮的白色的灯。我在一间陌生的房间里，一间全白的房间。我身边的墙上覆满了长长的垂直百叶窗。在我的头顶上，耀眼的灯光让我的视线模糊起来。我躺在一张硬邦邦的，很不平坦的床上，床边还装着栏杆。枕头很扁，凹凸不平。附近的某处传来了一阵恼人的蜂鸣声。我希望这意味着我还活着。死亡不应该这么不舒服。

我的手上插满了透明的软管，一根管子一样的东西缠在我的脸上，就在我的鼻子下方。我抬起手，想把它拿开。

“不，你不能。”冰冷的手指抓住了我的手。

“爱德华？”我稍稍转过头去，他的脸离我的脸只有数英寸远，他的下巴靠在了我的枕头的边缘。我再次意识到自己还活着，这一次还带着感激和兴高采烈的情绪。“哦，爱德华，我非常抱歉！”

“嘘，”他嘘声示意我安静下来。“现在一切都没事了。”

“发生了什么事？”我记不太清了，当我试图回想的时候，我的脑子抗拒着我。

“我来得太迟了。我本来很有可能赶不上的。”他耳语着，声音里充满了痛苦。

“我太蠢了，爱德华。我以为他抓住了我妈妈。”

“他欺骗了我们所有人。”

“我得打电话给查理和我妈妈。”我模模糊糊地意识到这一点。

“爱丽丝打过电话了。蕾妮就在这里——嗯，在这间医院里。她现在去吃点东西了。”

“她在这里？”我试图坐起来，但我的脑子晕得更厉害了，他的手温柔地把我推回枕头上去。

“她很快就会回来的，”他保证道。“而且你得一动不动得待在这里。”

“可你是怎么告诉她的？”我惊慌失措地说道。我对被安抚丝毫不感兴趣。我妈妈在这里，而我正从一次吸血鬼的袭击下康复过来。“为什么你要告诉她我在这里呢？”

“你从两截楼梯上掉了下来，撞破了窗子。”他顿了顿。“你得承认，这是有可能发生的。”

我叹了口气，这个动作让我隐隐作痛。我低下头，看着被单下的自己，那一团巨大的隆起是我的腿。

“我的情况有多糟？”我问道。

“你折断了一条腿，四根肋骨。你的头盖骨上有一些裂缝，你皮肤上每一英寸都伤痕累累。你还流了很多血。他们给你输了许多血。我不喜欢这样——这让你有一阵子闻起来都很不对劲。”

“这对你来说一定是个不错的变化。”

“不，我喜欢你的味道。”

“你做了什么？”我安静地问道。他立刻明白了我的意思。

“我不能肯定。”他看向别处，避开了我怀疑的眼睛。他从床上拿起我裹着纱布的手，温柔地握在自己手里，小心翼翼地避免扯断那根把我连到其中一台监视器上的电线。

我耐心地等着他没说完的话。

他叹了口气，依然拒绝对上我的目光。“我根本没办法……停下来。”他低声说道。“根本不可能。但我做到了。”他最终抬起头，几乎微笑起来。“我一定很爱你。”  
“我尝起来跟闻起来一样好吗？”我报以一笑。笑容扯痛了我的脸。

“还要更好些——甚至比我想象过的还有好。”

“对不起。”我道歉道。

他翻着眼睛，看着天花板。“在所有应该道歉的事情中（，你却选了这个）。”

“那我应该为什么而道歉？”

“为你差一点就让自己永远地离开我。”

“对不起。”我再次道歉。

“我知道你为什么要这样做。”他的声音有着安抚的味道。“当然，这样做还是很不理智。你应该等着我的，你应该告诉我的。”

“你不会让我走的。”

“是的，”他用冷酷的语气赞同道。“我不会这样做的。”

某些很不愉快的回忆开始闯入我的脑海。我颤抖着，然后畏缩起来。

他立刻焦急起来。“贝拉，怎么了？”

“詹姆斯怎么了？”

“在我把他从你身上拖开以后，艾美特和贾斯帕料理了他。”他的语气里有着一种尖锐的后悔。

这话让我困惑起来。“我没看见艾美特和贾斯帕在那里。”

“他们不得不离开那间屋子……到处都是血。”

“可你留下来了。”

“是的，我留下来了。”

“还有爱丽丝和卡莱尔……”我惊奇地说道。

“他们也爱你，你知道的。”

痛苦的画面（在我脑海里）一闪而过，我最后一次看见爱丽丝时的情景提醒了我某件事。“爱丽丝看了那卷带子没？”我焦急地问道。

“是的。”一丝新的声响使他的声音阴沉起来。那是一种全然的憎恨的语气。

“她几乎一直待在黑暗里，这就是为什么她什么都不记得了。”

“我知道。她现在全明白了。”他的声音很平坦，但他的脸阴沉着，写满了狂怒。

我试图用我空着的手去够他的脸，但某样东西阻止了我。我低下头，看见静脉注射管正扯着我的手。

“呃。”我退缩了。

“怎么了？”他担心地问道。他被分了神，但还不够。他眼里的阴郁依然没有完全褪去。

“针头。”我解释着，看向别处，不敢再看我手上的针头。我把注意力集中在一块扭曲的天花板砖上，试图不去理会肋骨传来的疼痛，深呼吸着。

“害怕针头。”他低声对自己说着，摇了摇头。“哦，一只暴虐成性的吸血鬼，想要把她折磨致死，当然，没问题，她逃出去去见他。另一方面，一根静脉注射针……”

我转了转眼睛。我很高兴地发现，至少，这个回应动作不会让我疼痛。我决定改变话题。

“你为什么会在这里？”我问道。

他起先困惑地盯着我，然后，痛苦浸染了他的眼神。他皱起眉，他的额头皱了起来。“你想要我离开吗？”

“不！”我断然否认，被这个想法吓坏了。“不，我是说，我妈妈会怎么看待你在这里这件事？在她回来以前，我得把这个故事给理顺了。”

“哦，”他说道，他的前额又变得像大理石般光滑平整了。“我来凤凰城是为了把我的感受告诉你，好说服你回到福克斯。”他睁大的眼睛显得那么诚恳和真挚，连我自己都差点要相信他了。“你同意和我见面，于是开车来我和卡莱尔还有爱丽丝住的宾馆——当然，我是在家长的监管下来这里的。”他一本正经地加上这句话。“但在来我房间的路上，你失足从楼梯上摔了下来……当然，剩下的部分你都知道了。不过，你不需要记住所有的细节。你已经有了一个很好的借口，那些更详尽的细节你可以装作有点糊涂蒙混过去。”

我思考了片刻。“这个故事还有很多漏洞。比方说，根本没有窗子被撞碎。”

“当然有。”他说道。“爱丽丝对伪造证据兴趣浓得有些过头。所有证据都被处理得相当有说服力——如果你愿意的话，你甚至可以起诉那家宾馆。你不需要担心这个。”他保证着，用最轻柔的力度抚摩着我的脸颊。“你现在唯一的任务就是养好身体（康复）。”

我对他的抚摩毫无反应，但这既不是因为我依然沉浸在痛苦之中，也不是因为药物带来的麻木。监视器的蜂鸣声忽然毫无规律地上下跃动起来——现在他不再是唯一一个能听到我的心丢脸地砰然乱跳（心跳失律）的人了。  

“这会很令人尴尬的。”我低声自言自语道。

他轻笑起来，然后一丝好奇的（若有所思的/揣测的）神情在他的眼里一闪而过。“嗯，我想知道……”

他慢慢得俯下身来，那阵嘈杂的蜂鸣声疯狂地加速着，甚至是在他的唇吻上我之前。但是，在他的唇用最温柔的力度压下来时，蜂鸣声停住了。

他立刻退回去，一脸的担忧，直到监视器表明我的心脏已经重新启动，他焦虑的神情才转为放心。

“看样子，我得比平常更小心得跟你相处才行。”他皱起眉。

“我还没结束和你的这个吻呢，”我抱怨着。“不要逼我在这里扑过去。”

他咧嘴一笑，然后弯下身子轻轻地把他的唇压上我的唇。监视器抓狂了（暴走了）。

但随后，他的唇紧绷起来。他退了回去。

“我想我听到了你妈妈（的动静）。”他说着，又咧嘴笑了起来。

“别离开我。”我喊出声来，一阵蛮不讲理的汹涌的恐惧席卷了我。我不能让他走——他会再度从我身旁消失不见的。

只是短短的一秒钟，他就读懂了我的眼里的恐惧。“我不会的。”他严肃地保证道。然后，他笑了起来。“我会打个盹。”

他离开我床边的那张硬邦邦的塑料椅子，坐到我床脚的那张青绿色人造革躺椅上去。他完全躺了下去，闭上了眼睛。他真的一动不动。

“别忘了呼吸。”我讽刺地低声说道。他深吸了一口气，依然闭着眼睛。  

现在连我都能听见我妈妈的声音了。她正和某人说着话，也许是个护士。她听起来既疲倦又担心。我真想从床上跳起来跑到她那里，安慰她冷静下来，向她保证一切都很好。但我现在的状态根本不可能做任何形式的跳跃动作，所以我只能安静地等着。

门被猛地退开了，她从门外偷看着。

“妈妈！”我低声说着，我的声音里充满了热爱（深情）和宽慰。

爱德华依旧维持着一动不动地睡在躺椅上的姿势，她看在眼里，踮着脚走的我的床边。

“他一直待在这里（他一直不肯离开），不是吗？”她低声自言自语着。

“妈妈，我真高兴看到你！”

她俯下身子，温柔地拥抱着我，我感觉到热泪正从我脸上留下来。

“贝拉，我真担心！”

“对不起，妈妈。但现在没事了，已经没事了。”我安慰着她。

“我真高兴，我最终看到你睁开眼睛了。”她在我的床沿上坐了下来。

我忽然意识到我还不知道现在是什么时候。“我的眼睛是从什么时候起闭上的？”（我睡了多久？）

“今晚是星期五，亲爱的，你睡了很长一段时间。”

“星期五？”我吃了一惊。我试图记起那件事是哪天发生的……但我不愿意去想它。

“他们不得不一直给你使用镇静剂，用了好长一段时间，甜心——你弄出了很多伤口。”

“我知道。”我能感觉到这些伤口的存在。

“你真幸运，卡伦医生就在那里。他真是个好人……不过，太年轻了点。他看上去更像一个模特，而非医生……”

“你见到卡莱尔了？”

“还有爱德华的妹妹爱丽丝。她是个可爱的女孩。”

“她确实是。”我完全赞成。

她越过自己的肩膀，瞥了一眼爱德华，后者依然躺在那张椅子上，紧紧地闭着双眼。“你还没告诉过我，你在福克斯交了个这么好的朋友。”

我畏缩了一下，然后呻吟起来。

“有哪里疼吗？”她担忧地问道，回过头来。爱德华的眼睛飞快地瞥了一下我的脸。

“我很好。”我向她保证道。“我只是刚刚想起来不能乱动。”他又回到他那个伪装的睡眠里去了。

我充分利用了我妈妈那一瞬间的分神，努力不让话题回到我那绝对称不上诚实的举动上。“菲尔在哪里？”我迅速问道。

“佛罗里达——哦，贝拉！你根本猜不到！就在我们要离开的时候，最好的消息来了！”

“菲尔拿到了合约？”我猜测着。

“是的！你是怎么猜到的！太阳队，你能相信吗？”

“太棒了，妈妈。”我竭尽全力，尽可能说得更热情些，尽管我根本不知道那意味着什么。

“你会喜欢杰克逊维尔的。”我茫然地盯着她，她滔滔不绝地说着。“当菲尔开始跟亚克朗市队沟通的时候，我还有些担心，因为那里到处都是冰雪，你知道我有多讨厌寒冷。但现在，杰克逊维尔！那里总是阳光灿烂，潮湿也没那么糟糕。我们找到了一所最可爱的房子，黄色的，装饰着白边，还有一个像老电影里那样的门廊，还有那棵巨大的橡树。而且那里离海边只有几分钟路程，你还能有你自己的浴室……”  

“等等，妈妈？”我打断了她的话。爱德华依然闭着眼睛，但他的样子太紧张了，根本不像是在睡觉。“你在说什么？我不打算去佛罗里达。我住在福克斯。”

“可你不必这样做了，笨蛋。”她大笑起来。“现在菲尔能有更多的时间在附近了……我们已经就这个问题谈过很多次了，我打算作出让步，在他客场比赛的日子里，有一半时间陪着你，一半时间陪他。”

“妈妈。”我迟疑着，想知道怎样才能最圆滑得处理这件事。“我想要住在福克斯。我已经融入了那里的学校，我也有一两个闺蜜了”——我提醒了她关于朋友的事，她又瞥了一眼爱德华，所以我试着换了个方向——“还有，查理需要我。他在那里老是一个人，而且他完全不会烹饪。”

“你想要留在福克斯？”她不知所措地问道。这个想法对她来说太不可思议了。然后她的眼睛飞快地看向了爱德华。“为什么？”

“我告诉过你——学校，查理——”我耸了耸肩。这不是个好主意。

她的双手无助地在我身上徘徊着，试图找出一块安全的地方拍一下我。她最终拍了拍我的额头，只有那里没有包着绷带。

“贝拉，甜心，你讨厌福克斯。”她提醒我。

“那里没那么糟。”

她皱起眉，来来回回地看着爱德华和我，这次她看得不慌不忙，显然是故意的。

“是因为这个男孩吗？”她耳语道。

我张开嘴想要撒谎，但她的眼睛正仔细地审视着我的脸，我知道她会从我脸上看出来的。

“他是其中一部分原因。”我承认道。没有必要坦白交代这部分有多大。“所以，你找机会跟爱德华交谈过了？”我问道。

“是的。”她迟疑着，看着他优雅的安静的姿势。“我想要和你谈谈这件事。”

啊—噢。“什么事？”我问道。

“我觉得这个男孩爱上你了。”她指责道，依然把声音压得很低。
“我也这样觉得。”我向她吐露道。

“那么，你对他有什么感觉？”她只能勉强掩饰住自己语气里汹涌的好奇。  

我叹了口气，看向别处。尽管我是那么的爱着我的妈妈，这依然不是一个我能和她交流的话题。“我对他简直着了迷。”瞧——这听起来像是一个十几岁的小孩在谈到她的初恋男友时会说的话。

“嗯，他似乎很不错，还有，我的天，他帅得简直让人难以置信，但你太年轻了，贝拉……”她的声音很没自信。就我所记得的情况而言，这是自我八岁时起，她头一次这么接近于竭力使自己听起来具有家长的威信。我认出了我和她谈男人时，那种通情达理但坚定不移的口气。
“我知道，妈妈。别担心这个。这只是一见倾心的狂热。”我安抚着她。

“没错。”她赞同着，很容易就开心起来了。

然后她叹了口气，满怀歉意地越过自己的肩膀看向墙上的那个大圆钟。

“你要离开了吗？”

她咬住唇。“菲尔过会儿会打电话来……我不知道你醒了。”

“没关系，妈妈。”我试图让自己的如释重负不那么明显，这样她就不会觉得受伤了。“我不会孤单的。”

“我很快回来。我要睡在这里，你知道的。”她宣布道，显然很为自己感到自豪。

“哦，妈妈，你不必这样做！你可以睡在家里——我根本没注意到这样做的差别（我不介意的）。”止痛药在我脑子里带来的眩晕现在让我更难集中注意力了，尽管，很显然，我已经睡了好几天了。
“我只是很不安。”她怯懦得承认道。“附近的街区发生了一些犯罪行为，我不想要独自待在家里。”

“犯罪？”我警惕地问道。

“有些人闯进了我们家拐角处的那间舞蹈教室，把它烧成了白地——什么都没留下来！然后他们还留了一辆偷来的车在门口。你还记得吗，你以前曾经去过那里上舞蹈课呢，甜心？”

“我记得。”我颤抖着，然后畏缩起来。

“我可以留下来，宝贝，只要你需要我。”

“不，妈妈，我很好。爱德华会陪着我的。”

她脸上的表情写着这就是她想留下来的原因。“今晚我会回来的。”与其说是一个保证，这听起来更像是一个警告。当她说话的时候，她又瞥了一眼爱德华。

“我爱你，妈妈。”

“我也爱你，贝拉。你走路的时候请更当心点，甜心，我不想失去你。”

爱德华的眼睛依然闭着，但一个大大的咧嘴一笑在他脸上一闪而过。

一个护士匆匆忙忙地走进来，检查了我身上所有的软管和电线。我妈妈亲吻了我的前额，轻拍了一下裹着纱布的手，然后离开了。

那个护士正在检查我的心电监护仪所打印出来的纸条。

“你感觉很不安吗，甜心？你的心率在这个点上有点儿高。”

“我很好。”我向她保证道。

“我会告诉你的注册护士（护理师）你醒了。她会在一分钟之内过来看你的。”

一等她关上门，爱德华立刻出现在了我床边。  

“你偷了一辆车？”我扬起眉毛。

他微笑着，没有半点悔改的意思。“那是辆好车，非常快。”

“你的小睡怎么样？”我问道。

“非常有趣。”他眯起眼睛。

“什么？”

他垂下头去，答道：“我很惊讶。我以为佛罗里达……还有你妈妈……好吧，我以为那正是你想要的。”

我无法理解地盯着他。“可你在佛罗里达得终日困住屋里。你只能在夜里外号粗，就像一个真正的吸血鬼一样。”

他几乎要微笑起来了，但最终没有笑。然后他的脸黯淡下来。“我会待在福克斯，贝拉。或者某个类似于福克斯的地方。”他解释道。“某个我不会再伤害到你的地方。”

起初，我没有立刻领会他的话。我继续茫然地盯着他，那些话一个字一个字地输入我的脑海里，就像是一个可怕的谜团一样。我只能勉强注意到我的心跳加速的声音。不过，当我的呼吸变得紊乱起来的时候，我才意识到我的肋骨传来的表示抗议的剧痛。

他什么也没说，他警惕地看着我的脸。那种与破碎的骨头无关的疼痛，那种更加糟糕，糟糕到好无止境的疼痛，威胁着要把我碾碎。

然后，另一个护士目的明确地走进了房间。爱德华又一动不动地像块石头一样，她训练有素的眼睛把我的神情看在眼里，然后转向那些监视器。

“是时候再吃点止痛药了，甜心？”她友好地问道，轻叩了一下那个静脉注射器的瓶子。

“不，不用。”我喃喃低语着，试图去掉自己声音里的痛苦。“我什么也不要。”我无法承受在这个时候闭上眼睛。

“没有必要这样逞强，甜心。如果你不那么强迫自己忍耐（不憋着那么多压力），情况会更好些。你需要休息。”她等待着，但我只是摇了摇头。

“好吧。”她叹了口气。“等你准备好的时候，请按呼唤铃。”

她严厉地看了一眼爱德华，然后又瞥了一眼那台机器，眼里更多的是不安，最终离开了。

他冰冷的双手落在我的脸上。我睁得大大的眼睛盯着他。

“嘘，贝拉，冷静下来。”

“不要离开我。”我用破碎的声音恳求道。

“我不会的。”他保证道。“现在放松下来，等会儿我再把护士叫进来给你打镇静剂。”

但我的心跳依然没有慢下来。

“贝拉。”他焦急地轻拍着我的脸。“我哪里也不去。只要你需要我，我会一直待在这里。”

“你发誓，你不会离开我？”我低声说道。至少，我在竭力控制自己的喘息。我的肋骨在颤抖着。

他把手放在我的脸两侧，然后把脸侧向我的脸。他的眼睛睁大，显得很严肃。“我发誓。”

他呼出的气息是那么的慰藉人心。这似乎让我呼吸的疼痛减轻下来。他继续看着我的眼睛，直到我的身体慢慢放松下来，那阵蜂鸣声恢复到一种正常的节奏。他的眼睛很黑，今天他的眸色更接近于黑色而非金色。

“好些了？”他问道。

“是的。”我谨慎地说道。

他摇了摇头，然后喃喃低语着某些我无法理解的句子。我想我听到了“过度反应”这个词。

“你为什么要说这些。”我耳语着，竭力不让自己的声音发颤。“你厌倦了不得不全天候地救援我吗？你想要我离开你吗？”

“不，我不能没有你，贝拉，当然不能。讲道理一点。我对拯救你也毫无意见——如果不是因为事实上我正是那个让身陷险境的人的话……我正是让你现在待在这里的原因。”

“是的，你正是原因所在。”我皱起眉。“让我待在这里……活着的原因。”

“仅仅是活着。”他的声音几近耳语。“包裹在绷带和石膏里，几乎没法动弹。”  

“我不是在说我最近一次濒于死亡的经历。”我说着，有些生气起来。“我在想别的事情——你可以选择的。如果不是因为你，我会在福克斯的公墓里腐烂掉。”

他因为我的话而畏缩了一下，但那种饱受折磨的神情依然没有离开他的眼底。

“不过，这还不是最糟糕部分。”他继续耳语着，表现得就好像我什么也没说一样。“不是看到你躺在地板上……扭曲着，伤痕累累。”他的声音有些梗咽。“不是以为我已经来得太迟。甚至不是听到了你痛苦的尖叫——这一切令人难以忍受的记忆都将会在我无尽的余生中纠缠着我。不，最糟糕的是那种感觉……我知道我没法停下来。我确信我会亲手杀了你的。”

“可你没有。”

“我会的。只差一点（这太容易了）。”

我知道我必须保持冷静……但他正在试图说服自己离开我，恐惧在我的肺部里挣扎着，想要冲出来。

“向我保证。”我耳语着。

“什么？”

“你知道的。”现在我开始生气了。他太固执地决心要详细描述那些消极的事情。

他听出了我语气的变化。他的眼神紧绷起来。“我不够坚强，没法让自己离开你，所以我猜你得用你自己的方式离开……不管这会不会杀了你。”他粗鲁地补充道。

“很好。”尽管，他没有做出保证——这是我无法回避的事实。恐惧只能勉强维持着。我再也没有气力控制自己的愤怒了。“你告诉过我你是怎么停下来的……现在我要知道为什么。”我诘问道。

“为什么？”他警惕地重复道。

“为什么你要这样做。为什么你不让毒液继续传播下去？那样现在我就像你一样了。”  

爱德华的眼睛变成了全然的黑色，我想起来了，这是他永远也不想让我知道的事。爱丽丝一定在一心一意地想着自己的事情……或者当他在附近的时候，她一定对自己的想法很小心——很显然，他完全不知道她已经向我灌输了吸血鬼转变的技术性细节。他很惊讶，也生气了。他的鼻孔张大了，他的嘴巴看上去就像是用石头凿出来的一样。

他不打算回答，这很明白。

“首先，我得承认我对亲密关系没什么亲身体会。”我说道。“但这更合乎逻辑……男人和女人应当稍微平等些……就像是，不能老是他们中的一个突然出现然后拯救另一个。他们应该平等的，互相援助。”

他把手臂交叠在我的床边，然后把下巴放在自己的手臂上。他的表情平静下来，他的愤怒遏制住了。很显然他已经决定了不对我发火了。我希望我有机会在他抓到爱丽丝以前警告她。

“你确实救了我。”他安静地说着。

“我不能总当露易丝.莱恩。”我坚持着。“我也想当超人。”
“你不知道你自己在要求着什么。”他的声音很温柔，他紧张地盯着枕头套的边缘。

“我想我知道。”

“贝拉，你不知道。我花了将近九十年的时间去思考这件事，而我还是不能确定。”

“你希望卡莱尔没有救你吗？”

“不，我不希望那样。”他停顿了片刻，然后继续说道。“但我的生命已经结束了。我不必放弃任何东西。”

“你就是我的生命。失去你是唯一能伤害我的事。”我能更好地说出这话了。承认我有多么需要他变得容易了。

可是，他非常地冷静。他做出了决定。

“我不能这样做，贝拉。我不能让那样的事发生在你身上。”

“为什么不能？”我的喉头沙哑着，我大声地说出了那句话，尽管我本意并不想这样大声说的。“别告诉我这太艰难了！在今天以后，或者我猜那已经是很多天以前的事了……无论如何，在那之后，这就不算什么。”

他瞪着我。

“那疼痛呢？”他问道。

我脸色发白。我没法控制住自己。但我试图不让自己的神情表现得太明白。我记起来那种感觉……火焰在我的血管里燃烧着。

“这是我的问题。”我说道。“我能把握住。”

“在情况失控的时候，勇气也许会很有帮助的。”

“这不是问题。就三天。有什么大不了的。”

爱德华又扮了个鬼脸。我的话提醒了他，我比他所希望的知道得更多。我看着他强抑住自己的愤怒，看着他的眼神变得揣度起来。

“查理？”他简要地问道。“蕾妮？”

时间在沉默中一分一秒地过去，我挣扎着想要回答他的问题。我张开嘴巴，但发不出声音。我又闭上了嘴巴。他等待着，然后露出了胜利的神情。因为他知道我没法如实回答。  

“看，这也不是问题。”我最终喃喃低语道。当我撒谎的时候，我的声音总是没法让人信服。“蕾妮总会为自己做出选择——她也想要我这样做。而查理能恢复过来，他过去一直是一个人。我不能永远为他们操心。我有我自己的人生要过。”

“确实如此。”他猛地说道。“而我不能结束你的人生。”

“如果你在等我奄奄一息的时候，那我有好消息要告诉你！我就在这里！（我已经奄奄一息了！）”

“你会好起来的。”他提醒我。

我深吸了一口气，让自己冷静下来，不去理会这个动作带来的一阵痉挛的疼痛。我瞪着他，他瞪了回来，脸上没有半点让步。

“不，”我慢慢地说道。“我不会的。”

他的前额皱了起来。“当然你会的。你只会留下一两个伤疤……”

“你错了。”我坚持说道。“我会死的。”

“真的，贝拉。”现在他焦急起来了。“你只需在这里待上几天就能出院了。最多两周。”

我瞪着他。“我也许不会在现在死去……但我终有一日会死去的。每一天，每一分钟，我都在离死亡更近。而且我会变老的。”

他听着我说的话，皱起了眉头，把他长长的手指压在鬓角，然后闭上了眼睛。“这正是应该发生的事情。这是本来应该发生的事情。如果我没有出现的话，这早该发生了——而我根本不应该出现。”

我哼了一声。他惊讶地睁开眼睛。“这太愚蠢了。就像是某个人刚刚赢得了一张彩票，把钱都领走了，然后说‘看，让我们回到从前，事情应该是那样子的，那样会更好些。’我不会买账的。（我不会接受这种说法的）”

“我绝对不是一份彩票大奖。”他咆哮着。

“没错。你要好多了。”

他翻了翻眼睛，然后启唇说道：“贝拉，我们不会再继续讨论这个话题了。我拒绝诅咒你陷入无尽的黑夜。到此为止。”

“如果你认为这事就这样结束了，那你就太不了解我了。”我警告他。“你不是我认识的唯一一个吸血鬼。”  


他的眼睛又变暗了。“爱丽丝没这个胆量。”

然后有一瞬间，他看上去是那么可怕。我情不自禁地想要相信这一点——我想象不出有人能勇敢与他面对面。

“爱丽丝已经看到了，不是吗？”我猜测着。“这就是为什么她说这些会让你心烦。她知道我会成为像你们那样的人……终有一日会的。”

“她错了。她也看见过你的死亡，但这也没有发生。”

“你永远也逮不到我和爱丽丝打赌。”

我们都盯着对方，瞪了很久很久。屋里安静得只能听到机器的呼呼声，蜂鸣声，滴水声，还有墙上的钟的滴答声。最终，他的表情缓和下来了。

“所以，我们现在进行到哪儿了？”我想知道。

他毫无幽默地轻笑起来。“我相信，这叫僵局。”

我叹了口气。“哎唷。”我低声说道。

“你感觉怎么样？”他问道，眼睛盯着呼唤护士的那个按钮。

“我很好，”我撒了谎。

“我不会相信你的。”他温柔地说道。

“我不想睡过去。”

“你需要休息。这些争论对你没好处。”

“那么，投降吧。”我暗示着。

“不错的尝试。”他伸手去够那个按钮。

“不！”

他不理会我。

“怎么了？”墙上传来的说话声问道。

“我想我们已经准备好使用更多的止痛药了。”他冷静地说道，完全不顾我狂怒的神情。

“我会去叫护士。”那个声音听起来很厌烦。

“我不会服药的。”我保证道。

他看向挂在我床边的那个输液袋。“我不认为他们会要你吞药片的。”

我的心率开始加快了。他看懂了我眼里的害怕，然后挫败地叹了口气。

“贝拉，你很疼。你需要休息，这样你才能康复。为什么你要这么难相处呢？他们不会拿针扎你了。”

“我不怕针头。”我咕哝着说道。“我只是害怕闭上眼睛。”

于是，他弯弯坏笑，用双手捧起我的脸：“我告诉过你，我不会去任何地方的。别害怕。只要这能让你快乐，我会一直待在这里。”  

我报以一笑，不去理会脸颊上的隐隐作痛。“你在说永远，你知道的。”

“哦，你会克服的——这只是一见倾心的狂热。”

我难以置信地摇了摇头——这让我头晕眼花。“当蕾妮接受这个说法时我大吃一惊。我知道你了解得更清楚。”

“当人类实在是件美妙的事。”他告诉我。“事情会改变的。”

我的眼睛眯缝起来。“别屏住呼吸。”

他大笑起来，这时，护士走了进来，手里挥舞着一支注射器。

“打扰了。”她唐突地向爱德华说道。

他站了起来，穿过房间走到这间小屋子的另一头，倚在墙上。他把双臂交叠在胸前，等待着。我的目光一直停留在他身上，我依然惴惴不安着。他冷静地看着我的眼睛。

“你在这儿，甜心。”那个护士微笑着，把药物注射到我的软管里。“现在你会感觉好些的。”
“谢谢。”我毫无热情地低声说道。这没花多长时间。我能感觉到，睡意几乎是立刻就流淌在了我的血液之中。

“这是我应该做的。”当我的眼皮慢慢垂下来时，她低声说道。

她一定已经离开房间了，因为一个冰冷光滑的东西正触碰着我的脸。

“留下来。”这句话是那么的含糊。

“我会的。”他保证道。他的声音是那么的美妙，就像是催眠曲一样。“就像我说的，只要这能让你快乐……只要这对你来说是最好的。”

我试图摇头，但我的头太沉重了。“那不一样。”我喃喃低语着。
他笑出声来。“现在不用担心这个，贝拉。你可以等到你醒来的时候再跟我争论。”

我想我在微笑。

我能感觉到，他的唇落在了我的耳畔。

“我爱你，”他耳语着。

“我也是。”

“我知道。”他轻声笑了起来。

我稍稍转过头……搜寻着。他知道我在等着什么。他的唇温柔地吻上了我的唇。

“谢谢。”我叹了口气。

“不用谢。”

我真的要睡过去了。但我依然虚弱地和麻木感挣扎着。还有一件事我要告诉他。

“爱德华？”我挣扎着，清晰地拼出他的名字。

“嗯？”

“我和爱丽丝打赌了。”我喃喃低语着。

然后，黑夜淹没了我。  
尾声 一触即发

爱德华帮我坐进他的车里，非常小心地不去碰到那一束束的丝绸和薄纱，还有他刚刚插到我精心设计的卷发上的鲜花，以及我那庞大的行走纠正靴。他完全无视我唇上的怒色。

当他帮我坐好后，他坐上了驾驶座，然后把车倒出那条长长的狭窄的车道。

“要到哪一个特别的时刻你才会告诉我接下来要发生什么事？”我暴躁地问道。我真的讨厌惊喜。而他知道。

“让我震惊的是，你到现在还没想出来。”他冲我投来嘲弄的一笑，我的呼吸立刻卡在了喉咙里。我到底要到什么时候才能习惯他的完美呢？

“我没有提到你看上去很不错，对吧？”我求证道。

“是的。”他又是咧嘴一笑。我此前从没见过他穿黑色，这颜色与他苍白的肌肤形成了巨大的反差，他的美丽完全是超凡脱俗的。我没法否认这一点，即便是他穿着一套男式无尾晚礼服这个事实也已经让我很不安了。

不安不仅仅源于穿着。或是鞋子。我只穿着一只鞋子，因为我的另一只脚依然安全地包裹在石膏里。但那仅仅用彩色缎带缠绕起来的细细的鞋跟，显然是不会在我蹒跚而行时有任何帮助的。

“如果爱丽丝打算像刚才那样把我当芭比豚鼠一样打理的话，我就再也不会过来了。”我抱怨道。我把一天中最好的时光花在了爱丽丝那间大得惊人的浴室里，充当她扮演发型师和美容师时那个无助的受害者。每当我坐卧不安或是想要抱怨的时候，她都会提醒我她完全不记得她当人类时的事了，然后要求我不要毁掉她聊以代替的乐趣。然后她让我穿上了一条最荒谬的裙子——一件深蓝色的，镶满褶边的露肩礼服，上面标着我不认识的法国标签——一条更适合于T台走秀而非福克斯的裙子。我没法从我们的正式着装上猜出什么好事情来，这点我很肯定。除非……但我不敢把我的怀疑说出口，甚至不敢自己想一下。

当电话响起来的时候，我被分了神。爱德华把他的手机从他外套口袋里拿出去，简单地看了一眼来电显示，然后接通了电话。

“你好，查理。”他警惕地说道。
“查理？”我皱起眉。

在我回到福克斯以后，查理相当地……难过。对于我糟糕的经历，他有着两种泾渭分明的反应。一方面，他对卡莱尔充满了几近敬畏的感激。另一方面，他固执地坚信爱德华是罪魁祸首——因为，如果不是因为他，我最开始根本不会离开家。而爱德华对此再赞成不过了。这些日子以来，我被加以了一大堆此前从未出现过的规定：宵禁……访客时间。

查理说的某些事情让爱德华的眼睛因为难以置信而睁大了。然后他脸上露出了一个咧嘴一笑。

“你在开玩笑！”他大笑起来。

“怎么了？”我诘问道。

他不理我。“你为什么不让我跟他谈谈？”爱德华提议道，语气里充满了显而易见的愉快。他等待了几秒钟。

“你好，泰勒，我是爱德华.卡伦。”他的声音非常友好，表面上看是这样。我捕捉到了那一丝淡淡的威胁的痕迹，这足以让我很明白了。泰勒在我家做什么？我渐渐理解了这个恐怖的真相。我再次看向爱丽丝强迫我穿上的这件很不恰当的衣服。

“我很抱歉，这里大概有些误会，但贝拉今晚没空。”爱德华的语气变了，他声音里的威胁忽然变得明显起来，他继续说道。“我再诚恳不过地告诉你，她每天晚上都没空，对每个人都是这样，但我除外。我没有冒犯的意思。我为你今晚的事深感歉意。”他听起来没有半点歉意。然后他啪地一下关掉电话，脸上露出一个大大的咧嘴坏笑。
  
我的脸和脖子因为愤怒而变得绯红一片。我能感觉到盛怒带来的泪水正开始盈满我的眼眶。

他惊讶地看着我。“最后一段说得太过分了吗？我不是有意要冒犯你的。”

我不去理会他的话。

“你要带我去舞会！”我大叫起来。

现在这一切明显得令人难堪。如果我有稍微注意一下的话，我敢肯定我一点会留意到张贴在学校大楼上的海报的日期的。但我根本想象不到他在想着把我引向那里。他完全不认识我吗？

他完全没有预料的我的反应会如此强烈，这再明白不过了。他抿紧了唇，他的眼睛眯缝起来。“别自寻烦恼，贝拉。”

我的眼睛飞快地瞥向窗外，我们已经在去学校的半路上了。

“你为什么要让我做这？。”我震惊地诘问道。

他冲自己的晚礼服打了个手势。“老实说，贝拉，你认为我们在做什么？”

我被问住了。首先，因为我忽略了显而易见的事实。也因为那种模糊的疑虑——确切地说，是期待——我一整天都在盼望着，那时爱丽丝正试图把我变成一个漂亮的舞会皇后，这实在是个太明显的标志了。我半是害怕半是希望的想法现在显得很愚蠢。

我猜测过，这会是某种酝酿已久的场合。但舞会！这是我最不可能想到的事情。（这是离我的脑子最为遥远的事情。）

愤怒的泪水从我的脸颊上滚落下来。我惊慌地想起来，我正非同寻常地涂了睫毛膏。我飞快地在眼下擦拭着，避免留下任何污迹。当我把手拿开的时候，我的手并没有被染黑。也许爱丽丝知道我会需要防水的睫毛膏。  

“这实在是太荒谬了。你为什么要哭呢？”他沮丧地诘问道。

“因为我疯了！”

“贝拉。”他全神贯注地用那双灼热的金色眼睛看着我。

“什么？”我喃喃低语着，被分了神。

“就当是为了我。”他坚持着。

他的眼睛让我所有的愤怒都消融了。当他像这样作弊的时候，我根本不可能跟他对抗。我用仅存的优雅姿势做出了让步。

“好吧。”我撅起嘴，这让我的瞪视变得没那么有效了。“我会安静地走下去的。但你会看到，我还有很多坏运气正等着兑现呢。我很可能会摔断另一条腿的。看看着鞋子！这简直是个危险的圈套！”我抬起自己那条好腿作为证据。

“哼。”他久久地盯着我的腿，远远超出必要的时间。“这提醒了我，得为今晚的事好好谢谢爱丽丝。”

“爱丽丝要来这里？”这让我稍微感到安慰。

“和贾斯帕一起，还有艾美特……和罗莎莉。”他坦白道。

那种安慰的感觉消失了。我跟罗莎莉的关系依然毫无改善，尽管我和她偶尔为之的丈夫相处得很不错。艾美特喜欢我在他附近——他觉得我那些奇特的人类反应很逗趣……也有可能是因为我老是摔倒的事实让他找到了许多乐趣。罗莎莉表现得就好像我根本不存在一样。当我摇着头，想要把我的思绪飘向的方向摇出脑海的时候，我想到了别的事情。

“查理也参与了这件事”我问道，忽然起了疑心。

“当然。”他咧嘴一笑，然后轻笑起来。“不过，很显然，泰勒没有参与进来。”

我咬紧了牙。我想象不出来，泰勒怎么能这么爱妄想。在学校里，查理根本干涉不到，所以爱德华和我简直形影不离——除了那些罕见的阳光灿烂的日子。

现在我们到了学校。罗莎莉那辆火红的敞篷车在停车场里格外显眼。今天的云层很稀薄，几缕阳光从云层里溜出来，落在遥远的西边。

他下了车，绕过车子，替我开了门。他伸出了 。

我固执地坐在座位上，交叠着胳膊，感到一阵隐秘的装模作样的矜持带来的刺痛。停车场里挤满了穿着正装的人们，他们都是目击证人。他没法像我们独处时那样把我强行抱出车外。

他叹了口气。“当有人要杀你的时候，你勇敢得像头狮子——然后，当有人提到跳舞的时候……”他摇着头。

我吞咽了一下。跳舞。

“贝拉，我不会让任何东西伤害你的——哪怕是你自己。我一次都不会放开你的，我保证。”


我思考着这些，忽然感觉好些了。他能从我脸上看出来。

“你瞧，现在，”他温柔地说道。“这没那么糟。”他俯下身来，一只胳膊挽住我的腰。我抓住他另一只手，让他把我抱出车外。
他的胳膊紧紧地环绕着我，扶着我一瘸一拐地向学校走去。

在凤凰城的时候，他们都在酒店宴会厅里举行舞会。当然，这场舞会在体育馆里举行。这很有可能是镇上唯一一间大得能容纳一个舞会的房间。当我们走进去的时候，我吃吃地傻笑起来。这里有货真价实的气球拱门，还有用蜡光纸折成的花环装饰着墙面。

“看上去像一场惊悚电影正等着发生。”我窃笑着。

“好吧，”当我们慢慢地走向检票台时，他低声说道——他支撑着我大部分的体重，但我依然不得不拖着脚，摇摇晃晃地向前走着——“这里的吸血鬼多得足够了。”

我看着舞池：舞池正中形成了一条很宽的裂口，那里有两对情侣正在优雅地转着圈。另一对舞者正迫切地移向房间的另一侧，给他们留出空间——没有人想要站在这样耀眼的存在旁边，以免形成鲜明的对比。艾美特和贾斯帕都穿着经典款的晚礼服，看上去令人生畏，毫无瑕疵。爱丽丝穿着一条黑缎礼服，上面有着几何图形的镂空图案，露出大片的三角形的雪白的肌肤。然后罗莎莉……好吧，罗莎莉。她简直让人难以置信。她明艳的猩红色礼服是露背款式的，被她用一根闪亮的带褶边的小牛皮宽皮带紧紧地固定着，从脖子一直延伸到腰间。我怜悯地看着房间里的每一个女孩，包括我自己。

“你想要让我把门闩上，这样你们就能屠杀这些毫无戒心的镇民吗？”我阴险地低声说着。

“那你打算参与到这个计划的哪个部分？”他瞪着我。

“哦，我当然站在吸血鬼那边。”

他勉强笑了笑。“千方百计地想要逃离舞会。”

“千方百计。”

他买了我们两个的票，然后让我转向舞池。我缩进了他的怀抱，拖着脚走着。

“我有一整个晚上。”他警告道。

最终，他把我拖到了他的家人正优美地转着圈的地方——仿佛他们处在了一个与现在的时间和音乐完全不相符的时空中。我惊恐地看着。

“爱德华。”我的喉咙太干了，我只能用耳语说道。“我诚恳地说，我不会跳舞！”我能感觉到恐惧在我的胸膛里沸腾着。

“别担心，笨蛋。”他向我耳语道。“我会跳。”他把我的胳膊环绕在他的脖子上，然后把我抱起来，让我踩在他的脚上。

然后，我们一起旋转了起来。

“我感觉自己像是只有五岁。”在跳了几分钟毫不费力的华尔兹后，我大笑起来。

“你看上去不像五岁。”他低声说着，一度把我拉得更近些，这样我的脚离地面就有一英尺远了。

在一次转身时，爱丽丝捕捉到了我的目光，然后鼓励地笑了笑——我报以一笑。我惊讶地意识到自己真的很快乐……只是一点点。  

“好吧，这只有一般糟。”我坦白道。

但爱德华正盯着门，他脸上写满了愤怒。

“怎么了？”我大声询问道。我追随着他的视线，因为旋转而失去了方向感，但最终我看到了困扰着他的事情。雅克布•布莱克，他没有穿晚礼服，只穿着一件长袖白恤衫，打着领带，他的头发被整齐地梳到后面，扎成了一个不同寻常的马尾。他正穿过舞池向我们走来。

在认出他的震惊过后，我情不自禁地为雅克布感到遗憾。他显然很不舒服——看上去是那么的痛苦。当他的眼睛对上我的凝视时，他脸上写满了歉意。

爱德华用极低的声音咆哮着。

“表现好些！”我嘘声说道。

爱德华听起来很受伤。“他想要和你聊一聊。”

然后，雅克布走到了我们跟前，他脸上的窘迫和歉意更加明显了。

“嗨，贝拉，我正希望你会在这里。”雅克布听起来像是期待着相反的事情。但他的笑容依然温暖如昔。

“嗨，雅克布。”我报以一笑。“怎么了？”

“我能插队吗？”他试探地说着，第一次瞥了一眼爱德华。我震惊地发现雅克布根本不必抬头看。在我第一次见到他以后，他一定长高了半英尺。

爱德华的脸很沉着，他毫无表情。他唯一的回答是小心翼翼地把我放下来，然后退后一步。

“谢谢，”雅克布亲切地答道。

爱德华只是点了点头，紧张地看着我，然后才转身走开。

雅克布把手放到我的腰上，我伸出手放到他的肩上。

“哇噢，杰克，你现在有多高？”

他自鸣得意地说道。“六英尺两英寸。”

我们并不是在跳舞——我的腿让跳舞成为不可能。我们只是笨拙地摇来摇去，根本没挪动脚。这也还好。他最近猛长的个子让他看上去既瘦长又不协调，他也许是个跟我一样蹩脚的舞者。

“那么，你今晚是怎么跑到这里来的？”我问道，并不是真的好奇。考虑到爱德华的反应，我能猜到。

“你能相信我爸爸花了二十块钱让我来参加你们的舞会吗？”他坦白道，稍微脸红了。

“是的，我能相信。”我低声说道。“好吧，至少，我希望你过得愉快。有遇到你喜欢的人吗？”我揶揄着，冲着像用蜡笔画的甜点一样排着队站在墙边的那堆女孩子点了点头。

“有啊，”他叹了口气，“但她被别人捷足先登了。”

他低下头，对上了我困惑的双眼，只看了一秒钟——然后我们都困窘地移开了视线。  

“顺便说一句，你看上去很漂亮。”他羞涩地补充了一句。

“呃，谢谢。那么，比利为什么要花钱让你来这里呢？”我飞快地问道，尽管我知道答案。

雅克布看上去并不乐意改变话题。他看向别处，又开始不自在起来。“他说这是一个和你交谈的‘安全’的地方。我敢发誓那个老男人一定是昏了头了。”

我虚弱地加入他的大笑中。

“无论如何，他说如果我告诉你某件事，他就会帮我弄到我需要的那个主制动引擎。”他露出一个怯懦的咧嘴一笑，坦白交代道。

“那么，告诉我吧。我希望你能把你的车子攒完。”我也冲他咧嘴一笑。至少雅克布根本不相信这个。这让情形变得更容易些了。爱德华靠在墙上，一直看着我的脸，他自己脸上却毫无表情。我看到一个穿着粉红色裙子的二年级生用怯懦的侥幸的神情看着他，但他似乎根本没有注意到她。

雅克布又移开了视线，脸红了。“别抓狂，好吗？”

“我不会对你抓狂的，雅克布。”我向他保证道。“我甚至也不会对比利抓狂的。只要告诉我你要做的事就行。”

“嗯——这实在是太愚蠢了，对不起，贝拉——他想要你跟你男朋友分手。他要我告诉你，‘求你了。’”他厌恶地摇了摇头。

“他还是很迷信，嗯？”

“是的。他有点……当你在凤凰城受伤的时候，他有点反应过度了。他根本不相信……”雅克布自觉地吞掉了话尾。

我的眼睛眯缝起来。“我摔倒了。”

“我知道。”雅克布飞快地说道。

“他认为是爱德华做了什么，让你受了伤。”这不是个问句，而我也没有遵守自己的保证，我生气了。

雅克布不想对上我的视线。我们也不费事跟着音乐摇晃了。尽管他的手依然放在我的腰间，而我的手依然环绕着他的脖子。

“看，雅克布，我知道比利很可能根本不相信这个，但这正是你所知道的那样。”——现在他看着我，作为对我声音里的诚挚的回应——“爱德华真的救了我的性命。如果不是因为爱德华和他爸爸，我一定早就死了。”

“我知道。”他声明道，但他听起来像是被我诚挚的话语影响到了。至少，也许他能把比利说服到这种程度。

“嘿，我很抱歉，你得来做这种事情，雅克布。”我道歉道。“无论如何，你弄到你的零件里，对吧？”

“是啊，”他喃喃低语着。他看上去还是很尴尬……也很不安。

“还有吗？”我难以置信地问道。

“忘掉这件事吧。”他低声说道。“我会找份打工，然后自己存钱。”  

我瞪着他，直到他对上我的视线为止。“说出来，雅克布。”

“那太糟了。”

“我不在乎。告诉我。”我坚持着。

“好吧……但是，耶稣，这听上去太糟了。”他摇着头。“他要我告诉你，不，警告你，说——还有，那是他的复数，不是我的”——他从我腰上移开一只手，在空气里画了一个小小的引号——“‘我们会一直看着。’”他小心地等待着我的反应。

这听起来像是黑手党电影里的一句台词。我大声笑了起来。

“对不起，让你不得不做这种事，杰克。”我窃笑着。

“我不那么介意。”他如释重负地咧嘴一笑。他的目光掠过我的裙子，审视着。“那么，我应该告诉他你说让他见鬼去吗？”他满怀希望地问道。

“不，”我叹了口气。“告示他我说谢谢。我知道他是出于好意。”

音乐结束了，我把胳膊放下来。

他的手在我的腰上迟疑着，他瞥了一眼我报废的腿。“你想再跳一曲吗？或者我能带你到别的地方去？”

爱德华替我作了回答。“好了，雅克布。我会带她走的。”

雅克布畏缩了一下，然后睁大眼睛盯着爱德华，他就站在我们身旁。

“嘿，我没看见你在那里。”他含糊地说着。“我猜我们待会儿见，贝拉。”他向后退去，不太情愿地挥着手。

我笑了。“是的，回见。”

当另一首舞曲开始的时候，爱德华的胳膊环绕着我。这对慢舞来说节奏有点快，但这似乎并没有难倒他。我把头靠在他胸口，感到心满意足。

“感觉好些了？”我揶揄着。

“完全没有。”他简单地答道。

“别对比利抓狂。”我叹了口气。“他只是因为查理的缘故才担心我。这不是什么人身攻击。”

“我没对比利抓狂。”他用一种紧绷的声音更正到。“但他的儿子很让我恼怒。”

我退回去看着他。他的神情非常严肃。

“为什么？”

“首先，他让我打破了我的承诺。”

我困惑地盯着他。

他半笑不笑地说：“我保证过，我今晚不会放开你的。”他解释道。  

“哦。好吧，我原谅你。”

“谢谢。但还有别的一些事情。”爱德华皱起眉。

我耐心地等待着。

“他说你漂亮。”他最终继续说道，他的眉头皱得更深了。“对你现在的样子来说，这实在是一种侮辱。你远甚于美丽。”

我大笑起来。“你有偏见。”

“我不这样认为。另外，我有卓越的视力。”

我们又开始转圈了，我的脚踩上了他的脚，他把我抱得更紧了。

“那么，你打算解释这一切的原因了吗？”我问道。

他低下头，困惑地看着我，我意味深长地瞥了一眼那些卷绉纸。

他思考了片刻，然后改变了方向，带着我转着圈穿过人群，舞到体育馆的后门那里。我一眼看见了正在跳舞的杰西卡和迈克。他们都好奇地盯着我。杰西卡挥了挥手，我飞快地报以一笑。安吉拉也在那里，看上去一脸幸福地被小个子本.切尼抱在怀里。她的眼睛简直没法从他的目光里移开，他比她低了一个头。李和萨曼塔，劳伦，她正瞪着我，和科纳在一起。我能叫出旋转着从我面前经过的每一张脸。然后我们走出了门外，走到了正在消逝的日落的清冷的，黯淡的光线中。

一等到我们独处，他立刻把我抱在怀里，然后抱着我穿过黑暗的场地，一直走到笼罩在草莓树的阴影下的一张长凳处。他坐在那里。依然把我环抱在他胸前。月亮已经升起来了，透过薄纱般的云层隐约可见，他的脸在皎洁的月光下变得苍白起来。他的唇是那么坚硬，他的眼睛里写满了烦恼。

“重点是？”我柔和地催促着。

他不去理会我，抬起头盯着月亮。

“又是暮色。”他喃喃低语着。“又一次终结。不管这一天多么美好，它终究会结束的。”

“有些事不必结束。”我立刻紧张起来，咬紧牙关，喃喃低语着。

他叹了口气。

“我带你去参加舞会。”他慢慢地说道，最终回答了我的问题。“因为我不想要让你错过任何事情。我不想因为我的出现让你的生命有所缺憾，只要我能做到。我想要你当人类。我希望你的人生继续下去，如果我没有死在十九岁上，我的人生也会这样继续下去。”

我因为他的话而颤抖起来，然后愤怒地摇着头。“在怎样奇怪的平行空间里我才会出于自己的意愿跑去参加舞会呢？如果你不是一千倍地强于我，我永远都不会让你侥幸做到这一点的。”

他简单地笑了笑，但笑意并没有渗入他的眼底。“这没那么糟，你自己说的。”

“那是因为我和你在一起。”

我们安静了一分钟。他盯着月亮，而我盯着他。我希望我能找到办法来解释为什么我对正常人类的生命是那么的不感兴趣。  

“你想要告诉我什么吗？”他问道，低下头看着我，淡淡地笑着。

“我不总是这样做吗？”

“你只要保证你会告诉我。”他坚持着，咧嘴一笑。

我知道我会立刻后悔的。“很好。”

“当你想出来我要把你带到这里来的时候，你看上去毫不掩饰自己的惊讶。”他开始了。

“我确实是。”我插嘴道。

“确实。”他赞同道。“但你一定还有别的一些理论……我很好奇——你以为我让你穿上盛装是为了什么？”

是的，我立刻就后悔了。我撅起嘴，踌躇着。“我不想告诉你。”

“你保证过的。”他反对道。

“我知道。”

“这有什么问题吗？”

我知道，他认为是尴尬让我退缩的。“我猜这一定会让你发疯的——或者悲伤。”

当他思索着这个想法的时候，他的额头皱在了一起。“我还是想要知道。求你了？”

我叹了口气。他等待着。

“嗯……我假定这是某种……场合。但我不认为那是某种平庸的人类活动……舞会！”嘲弄道。

“人类？”他冷淡地问道。他抓住了关键词。

我低下头看着自己的裙子，烦躁不安地抓起一片迷路的薄纱。他沉默地等待着。

“好吧。”我一吐为快。“我希望你也许已经改变心意了……你终于打算转变我了。”

许多情绪在他脸上一闪而过。有些我能辨认出来：愤怒……痛苦……然后他似乎控制住了自己，然后他的表情变得有趣起来。

“你以为这是某种隆重的场合，对吗？”他揶揄着，抚摩着他晚礼服外套的衣领。

我绷起脸，想要掩饰住自己的窘迫。“我不知道这些事情是怎么发生的。至少，对我来说，这比舞会要合理得多。”他依然咧嘴笑着。“这一点儿也不有趣。”我说道。

“不，你是对的，这一点儿也不有趣。”他赞同道，他的笑容消失了。“不过，与其相信你是认真的，我更愿意把这当成一个笑话。”

“但我是认真的。”

他深深地叹息着。“我知道。你真的那么情愿吗？”  
痛苦的神情又回到了他的眼中。我咬住唇，点了点头。

“已经准备好结束了，”他喃喃低语着，几乎是在自言自语。“把这当成了你人生中的暮色，尽管你的人生才刚刚开始。你已经准备好了放弃一切。”

“这不是结束，这只是开始。”我低声表示不同意。

“我不值得你这样做。”他悲伤地说着。

“你还记得你告诉过我，我没有很清楚地看待自己吗？”我扬起眉毛，问道。“你显然有着同样的盲目。”

“我知道自己是什么。”

我叹了口气。

但他敏捷易变的心绪因我而改变了。他撅起唇，他的眼睛在刺探着。他久久地审视着我的脸。

“那么，你现在已经准备好了？”他问道。

“呃，”我吞咽了一下。“是的？”

他微笑着，然后慢慢地埋下头，直到他冰冷的唇轻轻扫过我颌角之下的肌肤。

“就是现在？”他耳语着，他冰冷的气息吹拂着我的肌肤。我无意识地颤抖起来。

“是的。”我耳语着，这样我的声音就没有机会破音了。如果他认为我只是在虚张声势，那他就要失望了。我确实已经做出了决定，而且我很确定。没关系的，尽管我的身体僵硬得像块木板，我的手蜷握成了拳头，我的呼吸很不稳定……

他阴暗地轻笑着，然后把身子移开了。他的神情真的很失望。

“你不应该相信我会如此轻易地作出让步。”他说着，嘲弄的语气里有一丝酸涩的味道。

“女孩可以做梦。”

他的眉毛扬起来。“这就是你梦寐以求的？成为一个怪物？”

“当然不是。”我说着，因为他所选择的词语而皱起了眉。怪物，的确。“我梦想得更多的是永远和你在一起。”

他的神情改变了，变得柔和起来，也因为我声音里那种微微的痛苦而悲伤起来。

“贝拉，”他的手指轻轻勾勒着我的唇形。“我会和你在一起——这还不够吗？”

我在他的指尖下微笑着。“现在是足够了。”

他因为我的固执而皱起眉。今晚没有人会让步。他呼了一口气，那声音听起来像是一声货真价实的咆哮。

我轻抚着他的脸。“看，”我说道。“我爱你，胜过这世界上的一切加起来的总和。这还不够吗？”

“是的，这足够了。”他微笑着，答道。“永永远远，都足够了。”

然后他俯下身来，再次把他冰冷的唇压到我的喉咙上。
[ 此帖被-　　半世流离°在2012-08-16 11:51重新编辑 ]
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举报 只看该作者 22楼  发表于: 2012-08-16 0
第二十三章 天使
第二十三章 天使

当我感觉自己在漂浮的时候，我做梦了。

当我漂浮着，沉入黑暗的水底的时候，我听到了我的脑子所能想象到的最令我愉快的声音——美丽的，令人振奋的声音，尽管它听起来是那么的吓人。那是另一阵咆哮声，一阵更加深邃的，更加野蛮的，充满狂怒咆哮。

我被举起的手臂上传来的剧烈的疼痛拉了回来，几乎要回到水面上了。但我的意识依然涣散着，没法让自己睁开眼睛。

然后，我知道自己已经死了。

因为，透过厚重的水面，我听到了一个天使的声音，他正呼唤着我的名字，呼唤我到达我唯一想要的天堂。

“哦不，贝拉，不！”天使的声音惊恐地大喊着。

在那充满渴望的声音背后，是另外一种嘈杂的声音——一阵我的脑子努力回避着的，吓人的骚动。一个邪恶的男低音咆哮着，一阵可怕的咔嚓声，然后是一声高亢的哀号，忽然间中断了……

我试图不去理会那些噪音，把注意力集中到天使的声音上。

“贝拉，求你了！贝拉，听我说话，求你了，求你了，贝拉，求你了！”他恳求着。

好的。我想这样说。无论你想说什么。但我找不到我的嘴唇。

“卡莱尔！”那个天使呼喊着，完美的声音里充满了痛苦。“贝拉，贝拉，不，哦求你了，不，不！”那个天使无泪地哭泣着，哭得支离破碎。  

天使不应该哭泣的，这不对。我试图找到他，告诉他一切都很好，但这水太深了，水重重地压在我身上，我没法呼吸了。

还有另外一种压力刺激着我的头。是一种疼痛。然后，当这种疼痛冲破黑暗向我袭来时，另一阵疼痛袭来，是更加强烈的痛楚。我尖叫起来，喘息着，冲出了那个黑暗的池子。

“贝拉！”天使大喊道。

“她有点失血过多，但她的头伤得并不重。”一个冷静的声音告诉我。“当心她的腿，它折断了。”

一声狂怒的咆哮被天使死死咬在唇边。

我感到身体的一侧有一种钻心的疼痛。我不可能是在天堂，不是吗？这里太痛苦了。

“还有一些毒液，我想。”那个有条不紊的声音继续说着。

但那种尖锐的疼痛正渐渐褪去。我又感到了一种新疼痛，我的手上传来一种灼烧的疼痛，这种痛楚比其他任何别的疼痛都要强烈。

某人正灼烧着我。

“爱德华。”我试图告诉他，但我的声音是那么的沉重和迟缓。我甚至听不懂自己在说什么。

“贝拉，你会好起来的。你能听到我说话吗，贝拉？我爱你！”

“爱德华。”我又试了一次。我的声音清楚一点了。

“是的，我在这儿。”

“很痛。”我耳语着。

“我知道，贝拉，我知道”——然后，他的声音离我而去，显得很痛苦——“你不能做点什么吗？”

“请你去拿我的包……屏住呼吸，爱丽丝，这会很管用。”卡莱尔保证道

“爱丽丝？”我低吟着。

“她在这里。她知道上哪儿找你。”

“我的手很痛。”我试图告诉他。

“我知道，贝拉。卡莱尔会给你注射一点东西，给你止痛。”

“我的手在燃烧！”我尖叫着，最终挣脱了最后一点黑暗，我的眼睛颤抖着睁开了。我看不见他的脸，某些阴暗而温暖的东西遮蔽了我的视线。他们为什么看不见火焰，把它扑灭呢？  

他的声音听起来吓坏了。“贝拉？”

“火！快来人把火扑灭！”我尖叫着，火焰灼烧着我。

“卡莱尔！她的手！”

“他咬了她。”卡莱尔的声音不再平静，开始惶恐起来。（我忽然明白了卡伦们那时为什么不放着不管让贝拉转变。。。他们觉得在贝拉有另一种选择时，这样做是在犯罪。。。）

我听到爱德华恐惧地屏住了呼吸。

“爱德华，你必须这样做。”那是爱丽丝的声音，就在靠近我头部的地方传来。冰冷的指尖轻轻抹去了我眼角的泪珠。

“不！”他吼道。

“爱丽丝。”我呻吟着。

“这也许是个机会。”卡莱尔说道。

“什么？”爱德华恳求着。

“看你能否把毒液吸出来。这个伤口相当干净。”卡莱尔说话时，我能感到我的头部传来的压迫感，某种东西正戳探着，牵扯着我的头皮。但这种痛楚消失在了火焰带来的疼痛中。

“这会有用吗？”爱丽丝的声音听起来很紧张。

“我不知道。”卡莱尔说道。“但我们得抓紧时间。”

“卡莱尔，我……”爱德华迟疑着。“我不知道自己能否做到。”痛苦再次出现在了他美丽的声音里。

“总之，这得由你来决定，爱德华。我帮不了你。如果你打算从她手上把毒血吸掉的话，我得让这里止血。”

我困住那阵炽热的折磨中，痛苦地翻滚着，这个举动让我腿上的疼痛若隐若现，这简直令人厌恶。

“爱德华！”我尖叫着。我发觉自己的眼睛又闭上了。我睁开双眼，不顾一切地想要找到他的脸，然后，我找到他了。我终于看到了他那完美的面孔，他正注视着我，他的五官扭曲成一张写满了犹豫和痛苦的面具。

“爱丽丝，给我点东西固定她的腿！”卡莱尔向我俯下身来，在我的头上忙碌着。“爱德华，你必须现在就做，否则就太迟了。”

爱德华的脸上写满了挣扎。我看着他的眼睛，他眼里的犹疑迅速被炽烈的决定（毅然决然的决定）所取代。他的下巴绷紧了。我感觉到他冰冷有力的手指落在我灼烧着的手上，把它按好。然后，他向我的手俯下头去，他冰冷的唇压在了我的肌肤上。  

起初，疼痛变得更加剧烈了。我尖叫着，挣脱了他冰冷的手，但他把我拽了回来。我听到了爱丽丝的声音，她试图让我冷静下来。某个沉重的东西把我的腿压在了地板上，而卡莱尔用他石头般的双臂钳紧了我的头。

然后，慢慢地，我的翻滚渐渐平息下来，我的手变得越来越麻木。火焰慢慢地褪去，集中在了一个更小的点上。

我感觉到，随着疼痛渐渐消失，我的意识也渐渐淡薄起来。我怕再次落入那黑暗的水中，害怕自己会在黑暗中失去他。

“爱德华。”我试图说话，但我根本听不见自己的声音。他们能听见我的声音。

“他就在这里，贝拉。”

“留下来，爱德华，留下来陪我……”

“我会的。”他的声音很紧张，但不知怎的，却洋溢着某种胜利的喜悦。

我心满意足地叹息着。火焰消失了。别的痛楚被一阵席卷我全身的睡意所削弱了。  


“都吸出来了吗？”卡莱尔从远处的某个地方问道。

“她的血尝起来很干净。”爱德华安静地说道。“我能尝到马啡的味道。”  


“贝拉？”卡莱尔向我喊道。

我试图回答。“嗯？”

“火焰消失了吗？”

“是的。”我叹息着。“谢谢你，爱德华。”

“我爱你。”他答道。

“我知道。”我低声说着，感到那么的疲惫。

我听到了在这世界上我最爱的声音：爱德华安静的笑声，他的声音因为宽慰而有些无力。

“贝拉？”卡莱尔又问道。

我皱起了眉头。我只想睡觉。“什么？”

“你母亲在哪里？”

“在佛罗里达。”我叹了口气。“他骗了我，爱德华。他看了我们的录像。”我声音里的愤怒微弱得可悲。

但这提醒了我。

“爱丽丝。”我试图睁开眼睛。“爱丽丝，那段视频——他认识你，爱丽丝，他知道你从哪里来。”我刻意说得紧迫些，但我的声音太虚弱了。“我闻到了汽油的味道。”我补充道，惊讶穿透了我脑海里的薄雾。

“是时候挪动她了。”卡莱尔说道。

“不，我只想睡觉。”我抱怨道。

“你尽管睡，甜心，我会抱着你的。”爱德华安抚着我。

然后，我落入了他的环抱，就好像躺在摇篮里一样，紧贴着他的胸膛——我在漂浮着，所有的疼痛都消失了。

“睡吧，贝拉。”这是我所听到的最后一句话。
23. THE ANGEL




As I drifted, I dreamed.

Where I floated, under the dark water, I heard the happiest sound my mind
could conjure up — as beautiful, as uplifting, as it was ghastly. It was
another snarl; a deeper, wilder roar that rang with fury.

I was brought back, almost to the surface, by a sharp pain slashing my

upraised hand, but I couldn't find my way back far enough to open my eyes.

And then I knew I was dead.

Because, through the heavy water, I heard the sound of an angel calling
my name, calling me to the only heaven I wanted.

"Oh no, Bella, no!" the angel's voice cried in horror.

Behind that longed-for sound was another noise — an awful tumult that my
mind shied away from. A vicious bass growling, a shocking snapping sound,
and a high keening, suddenly breaking off…

I tried to concentrate on the angel's voice instead.

"Bella, please! Bella, listen to me, please, please, Bella, please!" he
begged.

Yes, I wanted to say. Anything. But I couldn't find my lips.

"Carlisle!" the angel called, agony in his perfect voice. "Bella, Bella,
no, oh please, no, no!" And the angel was sobbing tearless, broken sobs.

The angel shouldn't weep, it was wrong. I tried to find him, to tell him
everything was fine, but the water was so deep, it was pressing on me,
and I couldn't breathe.

There was a point of pressure against my head. It hurt. Then, as that
pain broke through the darkness to me, other pains came, stronger pains.
I cried out, gasping, breaking through the dark pool.

"Bella!" the angel cried.

"She's lost some blood, but the head wound isn't deep," a calm voice
informed me. "Watch out for her leg, it's broken."

A howl of rage strangled on the angel's lips.

I felt a sharp stab in my side. This couldn't be heaven, could it? There
was too much pain for that.

"Some ribs, too, I think," the methodical voice continued.

But the sharp pains were fading. There was a new pain, a scalding pain in
my hand that was overshadowing everything else.

Someone was burning me.

"Edward." I tried to tell him, but my voice was so heavy and slow. I
couldn't understand myself.

"Bella, you're going to be fine. Can you hear me, Bella? I love you."

"Edward," I tried again. My voice was a little clearer.

"Yes, I'm here."

"It hurts," I whimpered.

"I know, Bella, I know" — and then, away from me, anguished — "can't you
do anything?"

"My bag, please… Hold your breath, Alice, it will help," Carlisle
promised.

"Alice?" I groaned.

"She's here, she knew where to find you."

"My hand hurts," I tried to tell him.

"I know, Bella. Carlisle will give you something, it will stop."

"My hand is burning!" I screamed, finally breaking through the last of
the darkness, my eyes fluttering open. I couldn't see his face, something
dark and warm was clouding my eyes. Why couldn't they see the fire and
put it out?

His voice was frightened. "Bella?"

"The fire! Someone stop the fire!" I screamed as it burned me.

"Carlisle! Her hand!"

"He bit her." Carlisle's voice was no longer calm, it was appalled.

I heard Edward catch his breath in horror.

"Edward, you have to do it." It was Alice's voice, close by my head. Cool
fingers brushed at the wetness in my eyes.

"No!" he bellowed.

"Alice," I moaned.

"There may be a chance," Carlisle said.

"What?" Edward begged.

"See if you can suck the venom back out. The wound is fairly clean." As
Carlisle spoke, I could feel more pressure on my head, something poking
and pulling at my scalp. The pain of it was lost in the pain of the fire.

"Will that work?" Alice's voice was strained.

"I don't know," Carlisle said. "But we have to hurry."

"Carlisle, I…" Edward hesitated. "I don't know if I can do that." There
was agony in his beautiful voice again.

"It's your decision, Edward, either way. I can't help you. I have to get
this bleeding stopped here if you're going to be taking blood from her
hand."

I writhed in the grip of the fiery torture, the movement making the pain
in my leg flare sickeningly.

"Edward!" I screamed. I realized my eyes were closed again. I opened
them, desperate to find his face. And I found him. Finally, I could see
his perfect face, staring at me, twisted into a mask of indecision and
pain.

"Alice, get me something to brace her leg!" Carlisle was bent over me,
working on my head. "Edward, you must do it now, or it will be too late."

Edward's face was drawn. I watched his eyes as the doubt was suddenly
replaced with a blazing determination. His jaw tightened. I felt his
cool, strong fingers on my burning hand, locking it in place. Then his
head bent over it, and his cold lips pressed against my skin.

At first the pain was worse. I screamed and thrashed against the cool
hands that held me back. I heard Alice's voice, trying to calm me.
Something heavy held my leg to the floor, and Carlisle had my head locked
in the vise of his stone arms.

Then, slowly, my writhing calmed as my hand grew more and more numb. The
fire was dulling, focusing into an ever-smaller point.

I felt my consciousness slipping as the pain subsided. I was afraid to
fall into the black waters again, afraid I would lose him in the darkness.

"Edward," I tried to say, but I couldn't hear my voice. They could hear
me.

"He's right here, Bella."

"Stay, Edward, stay with me…"

"I will." His voice was strained, but somehow triumphant.

I sighed contentedly. The fire was gone, the other pains dulled by a
sleepiness seeping through my body.

"Is it all out?" Carlisle asked from somewhere far away.

"Her blood tastes clean," Edward said quietly. "I can taste the morphine."

"Bella?" Carlisle called to me.

I tried to answer. "Mmmmm?"

"Is the fire gone?"

"Yes," I sighed. "Thank you, Edward."

"I love you," he answered.

"I know," I breathed, so tired.

I heard my favorite sound in the world: Edward's quiet laugh, weak with
relief.

"Bella?" Carlisle asked again.

I frowned; I wanted to sleep. "What?"

"Where is your mother?"

"In Florida," I sighed. "He tricked me, Edward. He watched our videos."
The outrage in my voice was pitifully frail.

But that reminded me.

"Alice." I tried to open my eyes. "Alice, the video — he knew you, Alice,
he knew where you came from." I meant to speak urgently, but my voice was
feeble. "I smell gasoline," I added, surprised through the haze in my
brain.

"It's time to move her," Carlisle said.

"No, I want to sleep," I complained.

"You can sleep, sweetheart, I'll carry you," Edward soothed me.

And I was in his arms, cradled against his chest — floating, all the pain
gone.

"Sleep now, Bella" were the last words I heard.
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举报 只看该作者 21楼  发表于: 2012-08-16 0
第二十二章 躲猫猫
第二十二章 躲猫猫

做到这一点所花的时间比我认为的还要短——所有的恐惧和绝望，还有我破碎的心。时间一分一秒地过去，流淌得比平时还蛮。当我回到爱丽丝那里时，贾斯帕还没回来。我很怕和她待在同一个房间里，生怕她会猜到……也害怕着，需要因为同样的理由而隐瞒她。

我本以为自己已经没有余力去感到惊讶里，因为我的心一直忐忑不安，已经饱受折磨。但当我看到爱丽丝伏在桌子上，两手紧紧地抓着桌子边缘时，我依然吃了一惊。

“爱丽丝？”

我喊她的名字，她没有反应，但她的头慢慢地转了过来，我看见了她的脸。她的脸色很苍白，脸上一片迷茫……我立刻想到了我母亲。已经太迟了吗？

我飞快地冲到她身旁，本能地伸出手想拉着她的手。

“爱丽丝！”贾斯帕的声音听起来像是被鞭子抽了一样。然后，他立刻出现在了她身后，他的手交缠在她的手上，把它们从桌子上掰开。房间的另一头，房门啪地一声轻轻关上了。

“怎么回事？”他询问道。

她把脸埋到他胸口，不再看我。“贝拉。”她说道。

“我在这里。”我答道。

她的头转了过来，她的目光锁住了我的眼睛，眼里依然是一副诡异的空白的神情。我立刻意识到，她不是在叫我，她是在回答贾斯帕的问题。

“你看见了什么？”我说道——但我波澜不兴，漠不关心的声音里没有半点疑问。

贾斯帕狠狠地看着我。我让自己面无表情，等待着。他的目光轮流扫过在爱丽丝和我的脸，眼里写满了困惑……我猜到了爱丽丝看到的东西。

我感到一阵宁静笼罩着我。我对这宁静很是欢迎，利用它来控制自己的情绪，让自己的思绪有条不紊。
爱丽丝也恢复了过来。

“没事，真的。”她最终答道，她的声音异常地平静，令人信服。“跟之前的那间房间一样。”

她终于看向我，她的神情既平静又孤僻。“你想吃早餐了吗？”

“不，我会在机场吃早餐。”我也很平静。我走进浴室，去洗个澡。简直像是我借用了贾斯帕的特异感觉一样，我能感觉到爱丽丝强烈的——尽管她掩饰得很好——绝望地想让我离开这间屋子，让她和贾斯帕独处的情绪。这样她就能告诉他他们做错了某件事，他们注定要失败……

我有条不紊地做着准备，全神贯注地做好每一件琐事。我把头发放下来，披散在肩上，遮盖住自己的脸。贾斯帕所营造的安宁的气氛很有用，它能帮助我条理清晰地思考着。也有助于我的计划。我在书包里翻找着，挖出了我那只装满了钱的袜子。我把它倒空，把钱全部塞进了我的钱包里。

我迫不及待地想要到机场去，当我们在七点整出发的时候，我深感欣慰。这一次我独自坐在那辆黑色的轿车后排。爱丽丝倚在门上，她的脸朝着贾斯帕，但是，在她的太阳眼镜之下，她的眼睛每隔几秒就会向我的方向瞥一眼。

“爱丽丝？”我漠不关心地问道。

她很警惕。“嗯？”

“这是怎么做到的？你是怎么看见事物的呢？”我看向另一侧的窗外，我的声音听起来兴趣索然。“爱德华说过这不是很准确……事情会改变吗？”说出他的名字比我想过的还要困难。这一定让贾斯帕警惕起来，于是，一阵新鲜的清朗之气涤荡在车内。  

“是的，事情会改变……”她喃喃低语着，我觉得，她似乎又燃起了希望。“有些事情会预测更准确些……比方说天气。但人们是很难预测的。我只能在他们开始前进时看到他们前进的方向。一旦他们改变了主意——做出一个新的决定，不管那决定有多么微小——整个未来就会改变了。”

我若有所思地点了点头。“所以你一直看不到詹姆斯在凤凰城，直到他决定来这里为止。”

“是的。”她赞同道，又警惕起来。

所以，在我决定去那里见詹姆斯以前，她不会在那间镜屋里看到我和他在一起。我试图不去思考她看到的到底是什么。我不想让自己的恐惧惊动贾斯帕，让他起疑心。无论如何，在爱丽丝看见了那些以后，他们会比平常更细心两倍地监视着我。这将会让我的一切努力成为不可能。

我们到了机场。幸运之神站在了我这边，或许这只是因为赔率比较高。爱德华的飞机要在四个小时以后才会降落，那个航班将停靠在最大的那个候机楼里，而那时正是最多航班降落的时候——当然，他的飞机会在这个时间这个地点降落并不令人惊讶。但这正是我所需要的那座航空楼：最大的，最容易让人迷路的那一座，而候机楼三层的那道门将是我唯一的机会。
我们把车停在了那个巨大的停车楼的四层。我负责带路，因为我曾来过这里，所以比他们更熟悉周围的环境。我们坐电梯到了三层，那里是乘客办理行李托运的地方。有很长一段时间，爱丽丝和贾斯帕都在看着即将起飞的航班办理登机手续的情景。我能听到他们在讨论着纽约，亚特兰大和芝加哥的优点和缺点。我从没见过那些地方。我再也不会有机会见到的地方。

我在焦急地等待着合适的时机，我的脚不听使唤地打着拍子。我们坐在金属探测器旁的一排排椅子上，贾斯帕和爱丽丝假装在看着来来往往的人群，实际上却是在监视着我。这真让人绝望。我应该跑吗？他们敢在这样的公共场合阻止我吗？又或者他们只会跟着我。

我把那封尚未署名的信封从钱包里拿出来，放到爱丽丝那只黑色的皮包上。她看着我。

“我的信。”我说道。她点了点头，把那封信收到皮包最外面的夹层里。他很快就会看到它了。

时间一分一秒地过去，爱德华的到来越来越近了。这实在是件惊人的事，我体内的每一个细胞似乎都知道他就要到来，都渴望着他的到来。这让事情变得很棘手。我发现自己试图想出留下来的借口，想要先看他一眼，再脱身而去。但我知道，只要我有任何机会脱身，这一切就不可能发生。

爱丽丝几次提出要陪我去吃早餐。再等会儿，我告诉她，我还不饿。

我盯着到达航班布告屏，看着一个又一个航班准时抵达。从西雅图飞来的航班越来越靠近布告屏的顶端了。

然后，当我还剩下三十分钟可以脱身的时候，屏幕上的数字变了。他的航班提前十分钟到达。我没时间了。

“我想我现在需要吃点东西了。”我迅速说道。
爱丽丝站起来。“我和你一起去。”

“你介意让贾斯帕陪我吗？”我问道。“我觉得有点……”我没把句子说完。我眼里的狂乱已足以表达我没有说出的一切。

贾斯帕站了起来。爱丽丝的眼里写满了困惑，但令我宽慰的是，我看到她眼里并没有怀疑的痕迹。她一定把自己所预见的改变归咎于追随者的某种阴谋，根本没想到是我的背叛。

贾斯帕沉默地走在我身旁，他的手轻轻点着我的背，就好像他在给我领路一样。我假装对最先遇到的那几家机场咖啡屋毫无兴趣，我的脑子在搜寻着我真正想要的某物。然后，我找到了，就在拐角处那里，在爱丽丝锐利的目光所及范围之外：三层女化妆间。

“你介意吗？”当我们走过那间化妆间前时，我问贾斯帕。“我只占用一点点时间。”

“我会在这里等着。”他说道。

身后的门刚刚关上，我立刻狂奔起来。我还记得，上次我曾在这个化妆间里迷路，因为这里有两个出口。  


出了远处的那个门，只需再冲刺一小段路就能到达电梯。如果贾斯帕真的像他说的那样待在那里等着的话，他绝对不会看见我。当我奔跑的时候，我没有回头张望。这是我唯一的几乎，即使他看见我了，我也得继续跑。人们都在盯着我看，但我不去理会他们。拐过拐角，电梯正在那里等着，我夺路狂奔，把手伸进那架载满了人的下行电梯即将关闭的门里。我用力挤进那群愤怒的乘客里，看了一眼按钮板，想知道一层的按钮是否已经被按下了。那个按钮已经亮了起来，电梯门关上了。

一等电梯门打开，我又挤了出去，身后传来一阵恼怒的喃喃低语声。当我从自动扶梯上穿过安保岗时，我放慢了速度。当出口出现在眼前时（出口在望时），我又狂奔起来。我已经来不及细想贾斯帕是否正在找我了。

如果他循着我的味道跟着我时，我就只剩下几秒钟的时间了。我冲向自动门，因为它们打开地太慢，我还差点撞到了玻璃上。

在拥挤的马路旁，我一辆的士都没看见。

我没时间了。爱丽丝和贾斯帕就要知道我的逃跑了，或者，他们已经知道了。只需一下心跳的时间他们就能找到我。  

在离我几步远的地方，一辆去往机场宾馆的穿梭巴士刚刚关上门。

"等一下！"我大喊着跑过去，一路冲着司机招手。

"这是去往机场宾馆的穿梭巴士。"司机用困惑的声音说着，打开了门。

"是的，"我怒气冲冲地说道。"这正是我要去的地方。"我赶忙奔上那几级踏板。

他斜着眼看着没带任何行李的我，却只是耸耸肩，懒得发问。

大多数的座位都空着，我尽可能地坐得离别的乘客更远些，然后看向窗外。第一眼先看人行道，再看机场，然后我的目光在这两者之间游离不定。我情不自禁地想象着爱德华的样子，想象着他追随着我的踪迹，然后站在了马路边上的样子。我还不能哭，我告诉自己，我还有很长的路要走。

我的运气显灵了。机场宾馆的门口，一对看上去很疲惫的夫妇正在把他们的最后一件行李从一辆的士的后备箱里拿出来。我跳下穿梭巴士，奔向那辆的士，迅速坐进司机身后的那个座位上。那对疲倦的夫妇和那个穿梭巴士司机都盯着我看。

我把我妈妈的住址告诉了那个一脸惊讶的出租车司机。"我要尽快赶到那里，越快越好。"

"那可是在菲尼克斯。"他抱怨道。（菲尼克斯是凤凰城的老城区，也是市中心。）  
我把四张二十美元的钞票扔到前排座位上。

“这些够了吗？”

“当然，孩子，没问题。”

我坐回座位上，双臂交叠着抱住膝盖。熟悉的城市开始包围着我，但我根本不想看出窗外去。我努力让自己保持自制力。既然我的计划进行得如此顺利，我下定决心不让自己在这个时候崩溃。让自己沉浸在更多的恐惧和焦虑中是毫无意义的。我已经选择了这条路。现在我所能是继续走下去。

所以，我不再惶恐，而是闭上眼睛，用那二十分钟的车程尽情想着爱德华。

我想象着自己留在机场，与爱德华相见。我想象着，自己会怎样踮起脚尖，想要早些看见他的脸；他会怎样迅速而又优雅地穿过分隔着我们的拥挤的人群。然后，我会像平常一样鲁莽地冲上前去，走完我们之间的最后几步，然后落入他大理石般的怀抱。最终，我会平安无恙。

我想知道我们将会去那里。也许是北方的某个地方，这样他就能在白天外出。又或许是某个非常偏远的地方，这样我们就能再次躺在阳光下。我想象着他在海滩上的样子，他的肌肤会像海水一样闪闪发光。我不在乎我们得躲藏多久。和他一起困住宾馆房间里的时光一定宛如天堂。我还有那么多的问题想要问题。我可以一直和他谈话，永远也不睡觉，永远不离开他身边。

现在，（在我的脑海里，）我是如此清晰的看到了他的脸……几乎都能听到他的声音了。尽管有如此多的恐惧和绝望，我依然抓住了这短暂的欢乐。我太沉迷于自己逃避现实的白日梦里了，以至于完全忘记了时间的流逝。

“嗨，门牌号是多少？”

出租车司机的发问打破了我的白日梦，我幻觉里的所有色彩都荡然无存。恐惧，凄凉和艰难，正等着填补幻觉消失后所留下来的空白。

“5821。”我的声音听起来快要窒息了。那个司机紧张地看着我，就好像我是某个有趣的小插曲。  

“那么，你到了。”他不安地看着我下车，也许只是在希望着我不要让他找钱。

“谢谢。”我喃喃低语着。没有必要感到害怕，我提醒自己。家里现在没人。我得抓紧时间。我的母亲正等着我，她一定已经吓坏了，只能指望我。

我跑向大门，本能地伸出手去取屋檐下的钥匙。我打开了门。屋里很黑，空无一人，一切正常。我向电话机跑去，在路上打开了厨房的灯。在那里，就在那块白板上，写着一行十位数字，字迹小巧工整。我的手指颤抖着伸向电话键盘，却拨错了。我不得不挂上电话，重新拨号。这次我把注意力全都集中在按钮上，小心地按顺序按下每一个按钮。我成功了。我用颤抖的手把电话举到耳边。电话只响了一下就接通了。

“你好，贝拉。”那个从容不迫的声音说道。“你真的很快。我对此印象深刻。”

“我妈妈还好吗？”

“她相当好。别担心，贝拉，我没和她吵架。当然，除非你不是一个人来。”

“就我一个人。”终我一生，我都没有如此孤独过。

“非常好。现在，你知不知道你家附近的那家芭蕾舞教室？”

“知道。我知道怎么去那里。”

“很好，那么，我们待会见，很快。”

我挂上了电话。

我跑出房间，穿过大门，冲进灼人的热浪里。

没有时间回头再看一眼我的家了，我也不想看到它现在这个样子——空无一人，成为了恐惧而非避难所的象征。上一个走过这些房间的人是我的敌人。

通过眼角的余光，我仿佛看见了我的母亲站在那棵巨大的桉树的阴影里，看着还是个孩子的我玩耍着。她仿佛又跪在了信箱旁的那小小的一掊土旁，那是她试图种养的所有花儿的墓地。那些回忆比我今天所看到的所有真实都更加美好。但我飞快地从它们身旁跑开，冲向街道的拐角处，把一切都抛在了身后。

我总觉得自己跑得太慢，仿佛自己正在泥泞的沙地上奔跑一样——我似乎没法从水泥地上得到足够的支撑力。我被绊到了好几次，还有一次摔倒了。我伸出手想稳住自己，我的手在人行道上蹭破了皮。我摇摇晃晃地爬起来，继续向前跑去。最终，我跑过了那个街角。现在只剩一条街了。我喘息着，奔跑着，汗水自我的脸上倾注而下。阳光灼烧着我的肌肤，白色的水泥地面上反射着太过明亮的光线，晃了我的眼。我觉得自己被极其危险地一览无遗。我强烈地，比我所能想到的还要强烈得多的，思念着福克斯那翠绿的，给予庇护的森林……思念着我的家。  

当我转过最后一个街角，冲进仙人掌街的时候，我能看到那间舞蹈教室了，它看上去依然是我记忆中的那个样子。教室门前的停车位是空的，屋里所有的竖式窗帘都拉了下来。我跑不动了——我甚至没法呼吸，筋疲力尽和恐惧夺走了我的优势。我想着我的母亲，这才能让自己迈动步子，一步接一步地往前走。

当我走得更近些的时候，我看到了门里贴着的那张告示。那是一张手写的，写在深粉红色的纸张上的告示，上面说舞蹈教室因为春假而暂时关闭。我伸手去摸扶手，警惕地拧动它。门没锁。我强迫自己稳住呼吸，然后打开了门。

大厅里阴暗又空旷，很是凉爽，空调嗡嗡响着。 那些塑料扶手椅靠墙叠放着，地毯闻起来像是洗发水的味道。西面的舞蹈室里很暗，我能从那扇敞开的观察窗里看到那整个房间。东边的那间更大的舞蹈室的灯亮着，但那边的窗子的帘子拉了下来。

恐惧牢牢地抓住我，我简直要被困在其中了。我没法让自己迈动步子。然后，我妈妈的声音在大喊着。

“贝拉？贝拉？”一模一样的充满了竭斯底里的恐惧的声音。我奋力冲向那扇门，冲向她的声音。

“贝拉，你吓坏我了！你可不能再这样对我了！”当我奔进那间长长的，天花板很高的房间时，她的声音继续说着。

我环顾四周，试图找出她的声音是在哪里发出来的。我听到了她的笑声，急忙转过去面向她的声音。  

她在那里，在电视屏幕上，如释重负地抚弄着我的发。那是在感恩节，我那时十二岁。我们去看住在加利福尼亚的外祖母，那是在她去世的前一年。有一天我们去了海滩，我靠得离码头的边缘太远了。她看到我的脚有些不稳，试图抓住我让我保持平衡。“贝拉？贝拉？”她惊恐地冲我大喊。

然后，电视机屏幕变成了蓝屏。

我慢慢地转过身去。他一动不动地站在后面的那个出口前，所以起初我完全没有注意到他。他手里拿着一只遥控器。我们久久地凝望着彼此，然后，他笑了。

他向我走来，走到离我很近的地方，然后从我身旁走过去，把遥控器放到录像机旁。我小心地转过身去看着他。

“我对此事很抱歉，贝拉，但你的母亲并没有真的被牵扯进来，这不是更好吗？”

他的声音既谦恭又友好。

忽然间，这个事实向我迎头击下。我的母亲安全了。她还在佛罗里达。她从没接到我的留言。她从没被我眼前这张异常苍白的脸上那双阴暗的血红双眼所吓到。她安全了。

“是的，”我答道。我的声音里渗满了宽慰。

“你听起来并没有因为我欺骗你而生气。”

“我没有。”我突如其来的情绪高涨让我勇敢了起来。现在这件事还重要吗？一切很快就要结束了。查理和妈妈永远不会受到伤害，永远不必恐惧。我感到一阵头晕目眩。我脑子里的某些善于推理的部分警告我，我现在很危险，很有可能会因为压力的骤然消失而崩溃掉。

“真奇怪。你就是这个意思。”他阴暗的眼睛饶有趣味地估量着我。他的虹膜几近黑色，仅仅是在虹膜边缘才有一丝深红色。口渴。“我给你那个古怪的巫会送上这样一份大礼，你这个人类一定会很感兴趣的。我猜，通过观察你，我看到了一场精彩的演出。这实在很惊人——你们中的一些人完全没有注意到你的私心。”  


他站在离我只有几英尺远的地方，交叠着双臂，好奇地看着我。他的表情和站姿没有透露出半点威胁的意味。他真的相貌平平，五官和身材都没有任何特别之处。只有那雪白的肌肤，还有我已经被培养得开始习惯了的有着黑眼圈的眼睛，（才显得有几分特别。）他穿着一件淡蓝色的长袖恤衫，还有一条褪了色的蓝色牛仔裤。

“我猜，你会告诉我，你的男朋友会为你复仇的？”他问道，对我来说，他看上去满怀希望。

“不，我不这样认为。至少，我告诉过他不要这样做。”

“那么，他的回答是什么？”

“我不知道。”与这个优雅的捕猎者交谈轻松得有些奇怪。“我给他留了一封信。”

“真浪漫，最后的一封信。你认为他会遵守信中的内容吗？”他的声音听起来生硬了些，一丝讽刺破坏了他礼貌的语气。

“我希望他会。”

“呃嗯。好吧，那么我们的愿望很不一致。你看，这太容易了，太快了些。老实说，我有点失望。我本来还期待着更大的挑战。可到头来，我只需要一点运气。”

我沉默地等待着。

“在维多利亚没法靠近你父亲的时候，我让她找出更多关于你的信息。在我能够舒舒服服地在我选中的地方等着你的时候，就没有必要满世界地追着你跑了。所以，在我和维多利亚聊过以后，我决定来凤凰城拜访一下你母亲。我听到你说你要回家。起初，我从没想过你确实是这样做的。但之后我起了疑心。人类很容易被预测。他们喜欢待在熟悉的地方，安全的地方。这实在是个完美的做法，躲到你最不可能去躲藏的地方——你说你会去的地方。

不过，当然，我没法确定，这只是一种直觉。我通常能从我所狩猎的猎物身上得到感觉，这是一种第六感，如果你愿意这样称呼的话。能拿到你的门牌号对我来说很有用，但就我所知，你也可能在南极洲。如果你不在附近的话，这个游戏就没有意义了。

然后，你的男朋友坐上了飞往凤凰城的航班。很自然地，维多利亚把这件事告诉了我。在这场游戏里有这么多的玩家，我不可能是孤军奋战。所以，这些讯息告诉了我我所希望的事情，你终究是在这里。我做好了准备。我看完了你那些迷人的家庭录像。然后，只剩下虚张声势的问题。

你知道，这一切来得太容易了，完全没有达到我的标准。所以，你看，我很希望你对你男朋友的判断是错误的。他叫爱德华，对吧？”  

我没有回答。那种虚张声势的作用正在逐渐消失。我感觉到，他即将结束他贪婪的注视。无论如何，那不是冲着我来的。击败我，这个脆弱的人类，不能给他任何荣耀。

“你是否会，很介意，如果我用自己的方式留一封短信给你的爱德华？”

他后退一步，拿起一部原本被小心地放在立体声音响上的巴掌大小的数码摄像机。一点小小的红光显示着它一直开着。他调整了几下，把镜框调大。我震惊地看着他。

“我很抱歉，但我不认为在他看过这些以后，还能抵御住猎杀我的愿望。而且我也不想让他错过任何细节。当然，这一切都是为了他。你不过是个人类，一个很不幸出现在错误的时间，错误的地点的人类。而且无可辩驳地，和一群错误的人待在了一起，我得加上这一句。”

他向我走过来，微笑着。“在我们开始以前……”

当他说话的时候，我感觉到胃里一阵恶心。这是我完全没有预料到的情况。

“我只是想要踩到他痛处，只要一点点。自始至终答案都是这个，我真担心爱德华看出这一点，然后毁掉我的乐趣。这以前发生过一次，哦，是很多年以前。有一次，也是唯一的一次，我的猎物从我面前逃开了。”

“你看，那个愚蠢地喜欢着那个弱小的受害者的吸血鬼做出了你的爱德华因为太软弱而没法做出的选择。当那个老家伙知道我正追捕着他的小朋友时，他把她从他工作的那家收容所里偷了出来——我从来都弄不明白这一点，有些吸血鬼似乎就是痴迷于和你们人类为伍——他一把她放出来，立刻就让她安全了。她甚至没有注意到那种痛苦，可怜的小家伙。她被关在那间黑窟窿般的单人牢房里关太久了。如果是更早的一百年以前她一定会因为她的预知能力而被放到柴堆上烧死。但在十九世纪二十年代仅仅是收容所和休克疗法。当她睁开眼睛，因为自己的新生而格外强壮时，她看上去似乎此前从没见过太阳。那个老吸血鬼把她变成了一个强壮的新生吸血鬼，然后我再也没有理由靠近她了。”他叹了口气。“作为报复，我干掉了那个老家伙。”

“爱丽丝。”我震惊地压低声音说道。
是的，你的那位小朋友。当我在空地上看到她时，我很是惊讶。所以我猜她的巫会应当能从这个经历中得到一些安慰。我得到了你，但他们得到了她。唯一一个从我身边逃脱的受害者，确实是个纪念品，真的。”

“她闻起来确实很美味。我依然感到后悔，我没来得及尝一口……她闻起来甚至比你还好。对不起——我不是有意要冒犯你的。你闻起来确实不错。花香的味道，不知怎的……”

他向我走了一步，但仍保持着几英寸的距离。他拿起我的一缕头发，优雅地轻嗅着。然后，他温柔地把那缕头发放回原处，我感觉到他冰冷的指尖触到了我的喉咙。他用一根拇指飞快地轻拍了一下我的脸颊，脸上写满了好奇。我迫切地想要逃开，但我僵住了。我甚至没法退缩。

“不，”他放下手，低声地自言自语道。“我不明白。”他叹了口气。“好吧，我猜我们还是把剩下的事情做完吧。然后我就能打电话给你的朋友们，告诉他们在哪里能找到你，还有我小小的留言。”

现在我真的恶心起来了。我的痛苦源于我在他眼中所看到的一切。对他来说，仅仅是赢得游戏，吃饱喝足然后离开是远远不够的。事情不会像我指望的那样迅速地结束。我的膝盖开始颤抖，我害怕自己就要倒下去了。

他退回去，开始警惕地围着我绕圈，就好像他是在试图给博物馆的一尊雕像取一个更好的镜头一样。当他决定开始的地点的时候，他的脸依然坦率又友好。

然后他猛然俯下身去，变成我能认得出的那种蜷伏的姿势，他愉快的微笑越笑越开，慢慢张大着嘴，最终那不再是一个微笑，而是歪曲着嘴唇露出牙齿的姿势，他的牙齿全部露了出来，闪耀着光。

我没法控制住自己——我想要逃跑。尽管我知道这根本没用，我的膝盖依然虚软着，恐惧还是控制了一切，我向紧急出口冲去。

只一瞬间，他就冲到了我面前。我甚至没看出他袭来的是手还是脚，这一切发生得太快了。一记粉碎性的重击砸到了我的胸口——我感觉到自己向后飞去，然后听到了我的头砸到镜子上的撞击声。玻璃被撞得变了形，几片碎片掉落下来，散落在我身后的地板上。

我被吓得甚至感受不到疼痛。我甚至没法呼吸。

他慢慢地向我走来。

“效果很好。”他说着，审视着支离破碎的玻璃，声音又友好起来。“我觉得这房间对我的小短片来说很有戏剧性的视觉效果。这就是为什么我选择在这里见你。这里棒极了，不是吗？”

我不去理会他，手脚并用地向另一扇门跑去。

他马上超越了我。他的脚重重地踩在了我的大腿上。在我感觉到以前，我听到了那恶心的断裂声了。然后，我确实感觉到了，我甚至没法咽回自己极其痛苦的尖叫。我回过身去够自己的腿，他站在我身上，微笑着。

“你想要重新考虑一下你最后的请求吗？”他愉快地问道。他的脚趾推了推我骨折了的腿，我听到了一阵刺骨（悚然）的尖叫。我震惊地意识到，那声尖叫是我自己发出的。

“你真的不愿意让爱德华试图来找我吗？”他催促着。

“不，”我用嘶哑的声音大喊着。“不，爱德华，不要——”然后某个东西撞上我的脸，把我击回那面破碎的镜子上。

除了腿上的疼痛之外，我还感觉到了玻璃扎进我的头皮的尖锐的刺痛。然后一种温暖的液体以惊人的速度从我的头发里流下来。我感觉到它浸湿了我肩上的恤衫，我听到它滴落在木地板上的声音。它的味道让我的胃痉挛起来。  

在头昏目眩和恶心反胃之中，我看到了某件事情，这突然给了我最后一丝希望。他原本十分专注的眼神里，现在燃起了一种失控的渴望。那些血染红了我雪白的恤衫，飞快地汇聚在地板上，让他因为口渴而疯狂起来。不管他最初的目的是什么，他再也没法做到了。

让一切快点结束，是我现在全部的愿望。从我的头上流下的鲜血带走了我的意识。我渐渐闭上了眼睛。

仿佛置身在水底，我听到了猎食者的最后一声咆哮。我的视野变成了长长的隧道，我能看到，在隧道的另一端，他黑色的身影正向我扑过来。我用尽最后一点力气，本能地举起手护住自己的脸。我闭上了眼睛，感觉自己像在漂浮着。
22. HIDE-AND-SEEK




It had taken much less time than I'd thought — all the terror, the
despair, the shattering of my heart. The minutes were ticking by more
slowly than usual. Jasper still hadn't come back when I returned to
Alice. I was afraid to be in the same room with her, afraid that she
would guess… and afraid to hide from her for the same reason.

I would have thought I was far beyond the ability to be surprised, my
thoughts tortured and unstable, but I was surprised when I saw Alice bent
over the desk, gripping the edge with two hands.

"Alice?"

She didn't react when I called her name, but her head was slowly rocking
side to side, and I saw her face. Her eyes were blank, dazed… My thoughts
flew to my mother. Was I already too late?

I hurried to her side, reaching out automatically to touch her hand.

"Alice!" Jasper's voice whipped, and then he was right behind her, his
hands curling over hers, loosening them from their grip on the table.
Across the room, the door swung shut with a low click.

"What is it?" he demanded.

She turned her face away from me, into his chest. "Bella," she said.

"I'm right here," I replied.

Her head twisted around, her eyes locking on mine, their expression still
strangely blank. I realized at once that she hadn't been speaking to me,
she'd been answering Jasper's question.

"What did you see?" I said — and there was no question in my flat,
uncaring voice.

Jasper looked at me sharply. I kept my expression vacant and waited. His
eyes were confused as they flickered swiftly between Alice's face and
mine, feeling the chaos… for I could guess what Alice had seen now.

I felt a tranquil atmosphere settle around me. I welcomed it, using it to
keep my emotions disciplined, under control.

Alice, too, recovered herself.

"Nothing, really," she answered finally, her voice remarkably calm and
convincing. "Just the same room as before."

She finally looked at me, her expression smooth and withdrawn. "Did you
want breakfast?"

"No, I'll eat at the airport." I was very calm, too. I went to the
bathroom to shower. Almost as if I were borrowing Jasper's strange extra
sense, I could feel Alice's wild — though well-concealed — desperation to
have me out of the room, to be alone with Jasper. So she could tell him
that they were doing something wrong, that they were going to fail…

I got ready methodically, concentrating on each little task. I left my
hair down, swirling around me, covering my face. The peaceful mood Jasper
created worked its way through me and helped me think clearly. Helped me
plan. I dug through my bag until I found my sock full of money. I emptied
it into my pocket.

I was anxious to get to the airport, and glad when we left by seven. I
sat alone this time in the back of the dark car. Alice leaned against the
door, her face toward Jasper but, behind her sunglasses, shooting glances
in my direction every few seconds.

"Alice?" I asked indifferently.

She was wary. "Yes?"

"How does it work? The things that you see?" I stared out the side
window, and my voice sounded bored. "Edward said it wasn't definite… that
things change?" It was harder than I would have thought to say his name.
That must have been what alerted Jasper, why a fresh wave of serenity
filled the car.

"Yes, things change…" she murmured — hopefully, I thought. "Some things
are more certain than others… like the weather. People are harder. I only
see the course they're on while they're on it. Once they change their
minds — make a new decision, no matter how small — the whole future
shifts."

I nodded thoughtfully. "So you couldn't see James in Phoenix until he
decided to come here."

"Yes," she agreed, wary again.

And she hadn't seen me in the mirror room with James until I'd made the
decision to meet him there. I tried not to think about what else she
might have seen. I didn't want my panic to make Jasper more suspicious.
They would be watching me twice as carefully now, anyway, after Alice's
vision. This was going to be impossible.

We got to the airport. Luck was with me, or maybe it was just good odds.
Edward's plane was landing in terminal four, the largest terminal, where
most flights landed — so it wasn't surprising that his was. But it was
the terminal I needed: the biggest, the most confusing. And there was a
door on level three that might be the only chance.

We parked on the fourth floor of the huge garage. I led the way, for once
more knowledgeable about my surroundings than they were. We took the
elevator down to level three, where the passengers unloaded. Alice and
Jasper spent a long time looking at the departing flights board. I could
hear them discussing the pros and cons of New York, Atlanta, Chicago.
Places I'd never seen. And would never see.

I waited for my opportunity, impatient, unable to stop my toe from
tapping. We sat in the long rows of chairs by the metal detectors, Jasper
and Alice pretending to people-watch but really watching me. Every inch I
shifted in my seat was followed by a quick glance out of the corner of
their eyes. It was hopeless. Should I run? Would they dare to stop me
physically in this public place? Or would they simply follow?

I pulled the unmarked envelope out of my pocket and set it on top of
Alice's black leather bag. She looked at me.

"My letter," I said. She nodded, tucking it under the top flap. He would
find it soon enough.

The minutes passed and Edward's arrival grew closer. It was amazing how
every cell in my body seemed to know he was coming, to long for his
coming. That made it very hard. I found myself trying to think of excuses
to stay, to see him first and then make my escape. But I knew that was
impossible if I was going to have any chance to get away.

Several times Alice offered to go get breakfast with me. Later, I told
her, 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 minutes to make my escape, the numbers
changed. His plane was ten minutes early. I had no more time.

"I think I'll eat now," I said quickly.

Alice stood. "I'll come with you."

"Do you mind if Jasper comes instead?" I asked. "I'm feeling a little…" I
didn't finish the sentence. My eyes were wild enough to convey what I
didn't say.

Jasper stood up. Alice's eyes were confused, but — I saw to my relief—
not suspicious. She must be attributing the change in her vision to some
maneuver of the tracker's rather than a betrayal by me.

Jasper walked silently beside me, his hand on the small of my back, as if
he were guiding me. I pretended a lack of interest in the first few
airport cafes, my head scanning for what I really wanted. And there it
was, around the corner, out of Alice's sharp sight: the level-three
ladies' room.

"Do you mind?" I asked Jasper as we passed. "I'll just be a moment."

"I'll be right here," he said.

As soon as the door shut behind me, I was running. I remembered the time
I had gotten lost from this bathroom, because it had two exits.

Outside the far door it was only a short sprint to the elevators, and if
Jasper stayed where he said he would, I'd never be in his line of sight.
I didn't look behind me as I ran. This was my only chance, and even if he
saw me, I had to keep going. People stared, but I ignored them. Around
the corner the elevators were waiting, and I dashed forward, throwing my
hand between the closing doors of a full elevator 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 door 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 run again as the exit doors came
into view. I had no way of knowing if Jasper was looking for me yet.

I would have only seconds if he was following my scent. I jumped out 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. Alice and Jasper were either about to realize I was gone,
or they already had. They would find me in a heartbeat.

A shuttle to the Hyatt was just closing its doors a few feet behind me.

"Wait!" I called, running, waving at the driver.

"This is the shuttle to the Hyatt," the driver said in confusion as he
opened the doors.

"Yes," I huffed, "that's where I'm going." I hurried up the steps.

He looked askance at my luggage-less state, 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, drifted away. I couldn't help imagining Edward, where he would
stand at the edge of the road when he found the end of my trail. I
couldn't cry yet, I told myself. I still had 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 mother's address. "I need to get there as
soon as possible."

"That's in Scottsdale," he 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 lap. The familiar
city began to rush around me, but I didn't look out the windows. I
exerted myself to maintain control. I was determined not to lose myself
at this point, now that my plan was successfully completed. There was no
point in indulging in more terror, more anxiety. My path was set. I just
had to follow it now.

So, instead of panicking, I closed my eyes and spent the twenty minutes'

drive with Edward.

I imagined that I had stayed at the airport to meet Edward. I visualized
how I would stand on my toes, the sooner to see his face. How quickly,
how gracefully he would move through the crowds of people separating us.
And then I would run to close those last few feet between us — reckless
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,
as weak as my knees already were, panic took over and I bolted for the
emergency door.

He was in front of me in a flash. I didn't see if he used his hand or his
foot, it was too fast. A crushing blow struck my chest — I felt myself
flying backward, and then heard the crunch as my head bashed into the
mirrors. The glass buckled, some of the pieces shattering and splintering
on the floor beside me.

I was too stunned to feel the pain. I couldn't breathe yet.

He walked toward me slowly.

"That's a very nice effect," he said, examining the mess of glass, his
voice friendly again. "I thought this room would be visually dramatic for
my little film. That's why I picked this place to meet you. It's perfect,
isn't it?"

I ignored him, scrambling on my hands and knees, crawling toward the
other door.

He was over me at once, his foot stepping down hard on my leg. I heard
the sickening snap before I felt it. But then I did feel it, and I
couldn't hold back my scream of agony. I twisted up to reach for my leg,
and he was standing over me, smiling.

"Would you like to rethink your last request?" he asked pleasantly. His
toe nudged my broken leg and I heard a piercing scream. With a shock, I
realized it was mine.

"Wouldn't you rather have Edward try to find me?" he prompted.

"No!" I croaked. "No, Edward, don't—" And then something smashed into my
face, throwing me back into the broken mirrors.

Over the pain of my leg, I felt the sharp rip across my scalp where the
glass cut into it. And then the warm wetness began to spread through my
hair with alarming speed. I could feel it soaking the shoulder of my
shirt, hear it dripping on the wood below. The smell of it twisted my
stomach.

Through the nausea and dizziness I saw something that gave me a sudden,
final shred of hope. His eyes, merely intent before, now burned with an
uncontrollable need. The blood — spreading crimson across my white shirt,
pooling rapidly on the floor — was driving him mad with thirst. No matter
his original intentions, he couldn't draw this out much longer.

Let it be quick now, was all I could hope as the flow of blood from my
head sucked my consciousness away with it. My eyes were closing.

I heard, as if from underwater, the final growl of the hunter. I could
see, through the long tunnels my eyes had become, his dark shape coming
toward me. With my last effort, my hand instinctively raised to protect
my face. My eyes closed, and I drifted.
回复 引用 新鲜事
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八爷°

ZxID：13286336

1247314鲜花 70鸡蛋

等级: 内阁元老
配偶: 四和七
离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
举报 只看该作者 20楼  发表于: 2012-08-16 0
第二十一章 电话
第二十一章 电话

当我醒来的时候，我发觉时间还太早。我知道自己正在慢慢地颠倒着昼夜的作息时间。我躺在床上，听着爱丽丝和贾斯帕在另一间屋子里安静的说话声。他们的说话声居然大到我能听见的程度，这点很奇怪。我翻滚着身子，直到自己的脚落到地板上，然后步履蹒跚地走到起居室里。

电视机上的时钟显示着现在是凌晨两点。爱丽丝和贾斯帕一起坐在沙发上，爱丽丝又开始画速写了，而贾斯帕正越过她的肩膀看着。当我进屋的时候，他们没有抬头，只是全神贯注地看着爱丽丝的作品。

我挪动步子，走到贾斯帕身旁窥视着。

“她又看见了别的东西？”我安静地问他。

“是的。出于某种原因，他带着那盘录像带回到了那个房间，但那个房间现在亮起来了。”

我看着爱丽丝画出一个方形的房间，暗色的横梁在低矮的天花板上交错着。墙上嵌着木板，嵌板的颜色有点发黑，样式很过时了。地板上铺着一块暗色调的地毯，上面只有一个图案。南面的墙上有一扇大大的窗，西面的墙被打通了，一直通向起居室。那个入口的一侧是石砌的——那是一个巨大的棕褐色的壁炉，同时通向两个房间。就这个视角而言，这个房间的焦点是摆在屋子西南角那张太小的木架子上的，那台电视和录像机。一套有些年头的组合沙发环绕在电视机前，一张圆咖啡桌摆在沙发组前。

“电话在这里。”我用指尖点着，低声说道。

两双永恒的眼睛盯着我。

“这是我妈妈的房子。”
爱丽丝早已从沙发上跳起来，手里抓着手机，开始拨号。我盯着对我妈妈家的房间的精准无比的素描。贾斯帕一反常态地滑到我身旁更近的地方。他轻轻地把手放到我鉴赏，而这实际上的接触似乎把他的冷静更加强烈地输送到我身上。恐惧漫无目的地凝聚在原处。

爱丽丝的嘴唇颤抖着，飞快地说着话，我根本听不懂那低低的嗡嗡声。我没法集中注意力。

“贝拉。”爱丽丝说道。我木然地看着她。

“贝拉，爱德华会来接你。他和艾美特还有卡莱尔会来带你去某个地方，让你躲上一阵子。”

“爱德华要来？”这句话像一件救生衣，把我的脑子从滚滚洪流里拉了出来。

“是的，他将搭乘从西雅图起飞的第一班机。我们会在机场和他碰面，然后你跟他走。”

“可是，我妈妈……他来这里找我妈妈，爱丽丝！”尽管有贾斯帕在，我的声音依然因为竭斯底里而崩溃着。

“贾斯帕和我会留在这里，直到她安全无虞为止。”

“我逃不掉的，爱丽丝。你们不可能一直守卫着我认识的每一个人。你看不出来他在做什么吗？他根本没在跟踪我。他会找到某个人，他会伤害我爱着的某个人……爱丽丝，我不能——”

“我们会看着他的，贝拉。”她向我保证道。

“万一你受伤了呢，爱丽丝？你以为这对我来说不痛不痒吗？你以为他只能通过伤害我的人类家庭来打击我吗？”

爱丽丝意味深长地看着贾斯帕。一阵强烈的，沉重的，令人昏昏欲睡的迷雾席卷了我，我的眼睛在未经我许可的情况下合上了。我的意识竭力抵御着那阵迷雾，意识到发生了什么事。我强迫自己睁开眼睛，站起来，挣脱贾斯帕的手走到一旁。

“我不想继续睡。”我嚷嚷道。

我走回房间，用力关上门。我是真的砰地一声把门撞上的，这样我就能随意行事，保留仅有的一点隐私。这次爱丽丝没有跟着我进来。在之后的三个半小时里，我盯着墙壁，蜷成一个球，滚来滚去。我的脑子反反复复地思索着，试图想出一些办法来结束这个梦魇。但我根本无法逃离，也无法拖延。我所能看见的未来，有且只有一个正阴森森地逼近的结局。唯一的问题是，在我走到这个结局以前，有多少别的人会受到伤害。

我所拥有的唯一的安慰和唯一的希望是，我知道很快我就能看到爱德华了。也许，只要我再次看到他的脸，我就能够想出那个现在正遍寻不见的答案。

当电话响起来的时候，我回到了前面的屋子，动作里有着一丝羞愧。我希望我没有冒犯他们两个，我希望他们知道，我对他们为了我所做出的牺牲是多么的感激。

和往常一样，是爱丽丝接的电话，但引起我注意的是，贾斯帕头一次没在房间里。我看了看钟——现在是早上五点半。

“他们刚刚登机。”爱丽丝告诉我。“他们会在九点四十五分降落。”还得再强迫自己保持呼吸几个小时，才能等到他。

“贾斯帕在哪里？”

“他去退房。”

“你们不是要待在这里吗？”

“不，我们要搬到离你妈妈的房子更近的地方。”

我的胃因为她的话而不自在地扭曲起来。  

但电话再次响起，分散了我的注意力。她看上去很惊讶，但我已经走向前去，满怀希望地向电话伸出手去。

“你好？”爱丽丝问道。“不，她就在这里。”她把电话递给我。你妈妈，她用唇语说道。

“你好？”

“贝拉？贝拉？”是我妈妈的声音，用着我童年时听过一千遍的熟悉的语气说着。每当我离人行道的边缘太近，或者在拥挤的地方脱离了她的视线时，她都会这样喊着我。那是一种充满恐惧的声音。

我叹了口气。我早就料到了，虽然我在留言时，已经在不降低紧迫感的同时尽可能地让自己的声音显得不那么惊惶。

“冷静点，妈妈。”我用最令人宽慰的语气说着，慢慢地从爱丽丝身旁走开。我不确定自己能否在她的监视下说出令人信服的谎言。“一切都很好，不是吗？只要给我一分钟，我就能解释清楚所有的事情，我保证。”

我停顿了片刻，惊讶地发现她至今都没有打断我的话。

“妈妈？”

“当心点，在我让你说话以前，别出声。”我听到了一个陌生的，出乎意料的声音。那是一个高亢的男声，一个非常亲切，毫无特色的声音——就是那种你会在豪华汽车广告里听到的声音。他说得非常快。

“现在，我不必伤害你妈妈了。我真高兴我能像自己所说的那样确实做到这一点，她没事。”他停顿了一分钟，而我惊骇地听着这一片沉寂。“非常好，”他祝贺道。“现在，重复我说电话，尽量让自己听起来正常些。请说，‘不，妈妈，待在那里。’”

“不，妈妈，待在那里。”我的声音只比耳语大声一点。

“我看得出，这会很困难。”那声音充满了戏谑的意味，依然既轻柔又友好。“现在你为什么不走到另一间屋子里，好让自己的表情不泄露任何秘密呢？没有理由让你妈妈承受这一切。你走动的时候，请说‘妈妈，请听我说。’现在就说。”

“妈妈，请听我说。”我的声音恳求着。我很慢很慢地向卧室走去，我能感觉到爱丽丝正用忧虑的眼神注视着我的背。我关上身后的门，试图赶在恐惧控制我的头脑以前仔细地把事情考虑一遍。

“现在，你是一个人了吗？请说是或者不是。”  

“是的。”

“但他们还是能听见你说话，我敢肯定。”

“是的。”

“那么，好吧。”那个惬意的声音继续说道。“说，‘妈妈，相信我。’”

“妈妈，相信我。”

“这比我预料中的更管用。我正准备等着，你妈妈却提前回来了。这样就更容易了，不是吗？对你来说，悬而未决的事情变少了，需要担心的事情也更少了。”

我在等着。

“现在，我要你仔细听着。我要你离开你的朋友，你觉得你能做到吗？回答我是或者不。”

“不。”

“听到这话我很抱歉。我本来希望你能比这样更有创意写。如果你母亲的性命维系于此，你觉得你能摆脱你的朋友吗？回答是或者不。”

“是的。”
“这就好多了。我肯定这不容易，但如果我捕捉到任何你有人陪伴的蛛丝马迹，那么，对你母亲来说，这将是一件非常可怕的事，”那个友好的声音保证道。“事到如今，你一定对我们有足够的了解，你一定明白，一旦你试图带任何人和你一起来，我会在多短的时间内知道。而万一发生了这种情况，我只需要花一丁点时间就能解决掉你母亲。你明白吗？回答我，是或者不是。”

“是的。”我的声音有些破碎。

“很好，贝拉。以下是你要做的事。我要你去你母亲的家。在电话机旁会留有一个电话号码。打那个号码，我会告诉你从那里出发去哪里。”我已经知道我要去的那个地方，那个将结束这一切的地方。但我会严格遵循他的指示。“你能做到吗？答是或不是。”

“是。”

“请在中午前到达，贝拉。我没有一整天的时间。”他礼貌地说道。

“菲尔在哪里？”我简洁地问道。

“啊，现在给我当心点，贝拉。你得等到我让你说话时才能说话，拜托。”

我等待着。

“这很重要，现在，当你回到你的朋友身边时，确保他们不会生疑。告诉他们是你母亲打来的，你告诉她你会迟点到家。现在跟着我说。‘谢谢，妈妈。’现在，说。”

“谢谢，妈妈。”眼泪就要掉下来了。我努力把它们忍住。

“说，‘我爱你，妈妈，我们很快会再见的。’现在，说。”

“我爱你，妈妈。”我的声音有些沉闷。“我们很快会再见的。”我保证道。  

“再见，贝拉，我等不及要再次见到你了。”他挂上了电话。

我依然把电话扣在耳上。我的关节因为恐惧而僵住了——我没法松开手指把电话放下来。

我知道我得开始思考，但我的脑子里依然充斥着我妈妈恐惧的声音。时间一分一秒地过去，我挣扎着想要控制住自己。

渐渐地，渐渐地，我的思绪开始挣扎着穿透了那堵厚厚的痛苦之墙。开始盘算着。现在，我别无选择，只剩下一条路：去那间满是镜子的房间，接受死亡。我没有得到任何保证，没有任何迹象表明我能保证我母亲活着。我只能希望，詹姆斯会对赢得这场游戏深感满意，击败爱德华能让他得到足够的满足感。绝望扼住了我。根本没有任何讨价还价的余地。我根本没有任何条件或者抵押品可以影响他。但我依然别无选择。我得放手一搏。

我尽可能地压抑住恐惧。我已经做出了决定。再浪费时间为那样的结局而痛苦就没有意义了。我得好好想想，因为爱丽丝和贾斯帕正等着我，因为躲开他们是完全不可能的，也是完全必要的。

我忽然感到一阵欣慰，幸好贾斯帕不在。如果他在这里，他一定会感觉到过去的五分钟里，我所感受到的痛苦，那我还可能不让他们产生怀疑吗？我咽下自己的恐惧和不安，努力压制住自己的情绪。我现在还没法做到这一点。我不知道他什么时候会回来。
我全神贯注地思考着脱身之计。我只能寄希望于我对机场的熟悉能够增加一点我的胜算。不管怎样，我得先让爱丽丝离开……

我知道爱丽丝正在另一个房间里满心好奇地等着我。但在贾斯帕回来以前，我得在私下里处理另一件事。

我必须接受这一点：我再也见不到爱德华了。甚至来不及再看他的脸一眼，我就得去那间满是镜子的屋子。我会让他很受伤的，而且我不能跟他道别。有一阵子，我任由那阵痛楚肆无忌惮地席卷了我。随后，我同样把这痛楚推到一旁，去面对爱丽丝。

我千方百计才控制住的唯一一个表情是一张呆滞的，死气沉沉的脸。我看到了她警惕的神情，但我等不及她发问。我只有一个剧本，而我还没尝试过临场发挥。

“我妈妈很担心，她想赶回家。但已经没事了，我说服了她，让她留在那边。”我的声音毫无生气。

“我们会确保她没事的，贝拉，别担心。”

我把头转向一旁。我不能让她看到我的表情。

我的目光落到桌子上那叠宾馆信纸最上面的一页白纸。我慢慢地走过去，一个计划在我脑海里成形了。同样，一封信的腹稿也成形了。好极了。

“爱丽丝，”我慢吞吞地说道，没有回头，依然让自己的声音波澜不兴。“如果我给我妈妈写封信，你能把信给她吗？我是说，把它留在屋子里。”

“当然，贝拉。”她的声音显得很谨慎。她看到出我在细微之处的破绽。我得更好地控制住自己的情绪。

我又走回了卧室，跪在那张小小的床头几前，开始写信。

“爱德华，”我写道。我的手在颤抖，笔下的那些字母简直难以让人辨认。

“我爱你。对不起。他抓住了我母亲，我只能放手一搏。我知道这可能没用。我非常，非常地抱歉。

别生爱丽丝和贾斯帕的气。如果我能从他们身旁逃开，这绝对是个奇迹。替我感谢他们。尤其是爱丽丝。求你了。

还有，千万，千万，不要跟着他。这正是他想要的。我是这样认为的。我再也承受不了有任何人因为我而受到伤害了，尤其是你。求你了，这是我现在唯一能向你要求的事。就当是为了我。

我爱你。原谅我。

贝拉。”  

我小心地折起那封信，然后把它塞进信封里。他终有一日会发现的。我只希望他能理解，并且能听我的话，哪怕就这一次。

然后我也小心地密封住了自己的心情。
21. PHONE CALL




I could feel it was too early again when I woke, and I knew I was getting
the schedule of my days and nights slowly reversed. I lay in my bed and
listened to the quiet voices of Alice and Jasper in the other room. That
they were loud enough for me to hear at all was strange. I rolled till my
feet touched the floor and then staggered to the living room.

The clock on the TV said it was just after two in the morning. Alice and
Jasper were sitting together on the sofa, Alice sketching again while
Jasper looked over her shoulder. They didn't look up when I entered, too
engrossed in Alice's work.

I crept to Jasper's side to peek.

"Did she see something more?" I asked him quietly.

"Yes. Something's brought him back to the room with the VCR, but it's
light now."

I watched as Alice 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 aged sectional sofa curved
around in front of the TV, a round coffee table in front of it.

"The phone goes there," I whispered, pointing.

Two pairs of eternal eyes stared at me.

"That's my mother's house."

Alice was already off the couch, phone in hand, dialing. I stared at the
precise rendering of my mother's family room. Uncharacteristically,
Jasper slid closer to me. He lightly touched his hand to my shoulder, and
the physical contact seemed to make his calming influence stronger. The
panic stayed dull, unfocused.

Alice's lips were trembling with the speed of her words, the low buzzing
impossible to decipher. I couldn't concentrate.

"Bella," Alice said. I looked at her numbly.

"Bella, Edward is coming to get you. He and Emmett and Carlisle are going
to take you somewhere, to hide you for a while."

"Edward is coming?" The words were like a life vest, holding my head
above the flood.

"Yes, he's catching the first flight out of Seattle. We'll meet him at
the airport, and you'll leave with him."

"But, my mother… he came here for my mother, Alice!" Despite Jasper, the
hysteria bubbled up in my voice.

"Jasper and I will stay till she's safe."

"I can't win, Alice. You can't guard everyone I know forever. Don't you
see what he's doing? He's not tracking me at all. He'll find someone,
he'll hurt someone I love… Alice, I can't —"

"We'll catch him, Bella," she assured me.

"And what if you get hurt, Alice? Do you think that's okay with me? Do
you think it's only my human family he can hurt me with?"

Alice looked meaningfully at Jasper. A deep, heavy fog of lethargy washed
over me, and my eyes closed without my permission. My mind struggled
against the fog, realizing what was happening. I forced my eyes open and
stood up, stepping away from Jasper's hand.

"I don't want to go back to sleep," I snapped.

I walked to my room and shut the door, slammed it really, so I could be
free to go to pieces privately. This time Alice didn't follow me. For
three and a half hours I stared at the wall, curled in a ball, rocking.
My mind went around in circles, trying to come up with some way out of
this nightmare. There was no escape, no reprieve. I could see only one
possible end looming darkly in my future. The only question was how many
other people would be hurt before I reached it.

The only solace, the only hope I had left, was knowing that I would see
Edward soon. Maybe, if I could just see his face again, I would also be
able to see the solution that eluded me now.

When the phone rang, I returned to the front room, a little ashamed of my
behavior. I hoped I hadn't offended either of them, that they would know
how grateful I was for the sacrifices they were making on my account.

Alice was talking as rapidly as ever, but what caught my attention was
that, for the first time, Jasper was not in the room. I looked at the
clock — it was five-thirty in the morning.

"They're just boarding their plane," Alice told me. "They'll land at
nine-forty-five." Just a few more hours to keep breathing till he was
here.

"Where's Jasper?"

"He went to check out."

"You aren't staying here?"

"No, we're relocating closer to your mother's house."

My stomach twisted uneasily at her words.

But the phone rang again, distracting me. She looked surprised, but I was
already walking forward, reaching hopefully for the phone.

"Hello?" Alice asked. "No, she's right here." She held the phone out to
me. Your mother, she mouthed.

"Hello?"

"Bella? Bella?" It was my mother's voice, in a familiar tone I had 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.

I sighed. I'd been expecting this, though I'd tried to make my message as
unalarming as possible without lessening the urgency of it.

"Calm down, Mom," I said in my most soothing voice, walking slowly away
from Alice. I wasn't sure if I could lie as convincingly with her eyes on
me. "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 man's tenor
voice, a very pleasant, generic voice — the kind of voice that you heard
in the background of luxury car commercials. He spoke very quickly.

"Now, I don't need to hurt your mother, so please do exactly as I say,
and she'll be fine." He paused for a minute while I listened in mute
horror. "That's very good," he 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, please say, 'Mom, please listen to me.' Say it
now."

"Mom, please listen to me," my voice pleaded. I walked very slowly to the
bedroom, feeling Alice's worried stare on my back. I shut the door behind
me, trying to think clearly through the terror that gripped 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
than that. 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. I remembered that we were going to the
airport. Sky Harbor International Airport: crowded, confusingly laid out…

"Yes."

"That's better. I'm sure it won't be easy, but if I get the slightest

hint that you have any company, well, that would be very bad for your
mother," the friendly voice promised. "You must know enough about us by
now to realize how quickly I would know if you tried to bring anyone
along with you. And how little time I would need to deal with your mother
if that was the case. Do you understand? Answer yes or no."

"Yes." My voice broke.

"Very good, Bella. 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 his instructions
exactly. "Can you do that? Answer yes or no."

"Yes."

"Before noon, please, Bella. I haven't got all day," he said politely.

"Where's Phil?" I asked tersely.

"Ah, be careful now, Bella. Wait until I ask you to speak, please."

I waited.

"It's important, now, 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." The tears were coming. I tried to fight them back.

"Say, 'I love you, Mom, I'll see you soon.' Say it now."

"I love you, Mom." My voice was thick. "I'll see you soon," I promised.

"Goodbye, Bella. I look forward to seeing you again." He hung up.

I held the phone to my ear. My joints were frozen with terror — 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. For I had no choices now but one: to go to the mirrored
room and die. I had no guarantees, nothing to give to keep my mother
alive. I could only hope that James would be satisfied with winning the
game, that beating Edward would be enough. Despair gripped me; there was
no way to bargain, nothing I could offer or withhold that could influence
him. 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 the outcome. I had to think clearly,
because Alice and Jasper were waiting for me, and evading them was
absolutely essential, and absolutely impossible.

I was suddenly grateful that Jasper was gone. If he had been here to feel
my anguish in the last five minutes, how could I have kept them from
being suspicious? I choked back the dread, the anxiety, tried to stifle
it. I couldn't afford it now. I didn't know when he would return.

I concentrated on my escape. I had to hope that my familiarity with the
airport would turn the odds in my favor. Somehow, I had to keep Alice
away…

I knew Alice was in the other room waiting for me, curious. But I had to
deal with one more thing in private, before Jasper was back.

I had to accept that I wouldn't see Edward again, not even one last
glimpse of his face to carry with me to the mirror room. I was going to
hurt him, and I couldn't say goodbye. I let the waves of torture wash
over me, have their way for a time. Then I pushed them back, too, and

went to face Alice.

The only expression I could manage was a dull, dead look. I saw her alarm
and I didn't wait for her to ask. I had just one script and I'd never
manage improvisation now.

"My mom was worried, she wanted to come home. But it's okay, I convinced
her to stay away." My voice was lifeless.

"We'll make sure she's fine, Bella, don't worry."

I turned away; I couldn't let her see my face.

My eye fell on a blank page of the hotel stationery on the desk. I went
to it slowly, a plan forming. There was an envelope there, too. That was
good.

"Alice," I asked slowly, without turning, keeping my voice level. "If I
write a letter for my mother, would you give it to her? Leave it at the
house, I mean."

"Sure, Bella." Her voice was careful. She could see me coming apart at
the seams. I had to keep my emotions under better control.

I went into the bedroom again, and knelt next to the little bedside table
to write.

"Edward," I wrote. My hand was shaking, the letters were hardly legible.



I love you. I am so sorry. He has my mom, and I have to try. I know it
may not work. I am so very, very sorry.

Don't be angry with Alice and Jasper. If I get away from them it will be
a miracle. Tell them thank you for me. Alice especially, please.

And please, please, don't come after him. That's what he wants. I think.
I can't bear it if anyone has to be hurt because of me, especially you.
Please, this is the only thing I can ask you now. For me.

I love you. Forgive me.

Bella



I folded the letter carefully, and sealed it in the envelope. Eventually
he would find it. I only hoped he would understand, and listen to me just
this once.

And then I carefully sealed away my heart.
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离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
举报 只看该作者 19楼  发表于: 2012-08-16 0
第二十章 急不可耐（焦急）
第二十章 急不可耐（焦急）

当我醒来的时候，我很困惑。我的思绪一片迷茫，依然纠结在梦境和梦魇之中。我花了比平时更长的时间才意识到自己身在何方。

只有在宾馆里才会有这样乏味的房间。（这样乏味的房间不可能属于任何地方，除了宾馆。）床头的壁灯，桌子上的抽屉把手，还有用和床单相同的布料做成的长长的窗帘，墙上挂着的庸俗的水粉画，都该死地泄露了这一点。

我试图记起自己是怎么到这里来的，但起初却什么也想不出来。

我确实还记得那辆光滑的黑色轿车，车窗上的玻璃颜色比豪华轿车上的还深。即使是在我们用超过法定时速两倍的速度开过黑暗中的高速公路时，那车的引擎依然悄无声息。

然后我想起来了，爱丽丝和我一起坐在黑色的皮制后座上。不知怎的，在度过了漫长的一夜之后，我的头最终靠在了她花岗岩般的颈窝上。我的亲近似乎丝毫没有影响到她，而奇怪的是，她冰冷坚硬的肌肤对我来说很舒适。她身上单薄的纯棉恤衫冷冰冰的，被我眼里源源不绝的泪水打湿了。直到我的眼睛变得又红又肿，我的泪水才流干。
睡意一直躲着我。我疼痛的双眼一直紧绷地睁着，直到夜晚终于结束，破晓降临于加利福尼亚州某处低矮的山坡上。那道灰白的光，冲破无云的天空，刺痛了我的眼睛。但我还是不能把眼睛闭上。一旦我闭上双眼，一幕幕鲜活的画面就会在我的脑海中闪现着，仿佛正在我眼前发生着一样，这简直让人忍无可忍。查理受伤的神情——爱德华露出牙齿，野蛮地咆哮着——罗莎莉忿恨的目光——追猎者让人无处遁形的监视——爱德华最后一次吻过我后，眼里冷酷的神情……我难以忍受看见这些画面。所以我和自己的倦意斗争着，任凭太阳越升越高。

当我们开进一条浅浅的山道时，我依然清醒着。太阳从我们身后照过来，折射在太阳谷酒店的平顶屋顶上。我们只用了一天的时间就走完了三天的路程，但我几乎没有多余的气力来感到惊讶。我茫然地盯着眼前那片开阔平坦的城市。凤凰城——棕榈树，低矮的木馏油，高速路十字路口上杂乱的白线，一块块葱绿的高尔夫球场，还有星星点点宛如绿宝石的游泳池，这一切都浸淫在一片薄雾之中，坐落在低矮多石的群山环抱之中，那些丘陵小得不足以成之为山峰。

棕榈树在高速路的两旁洒下歪斜的树影——那些清晰的树影，比我记忆里的还要棱角分明，颜色浅淡得出奇。没有什么能藏在那些树影里。这条明亮的开阔的高速路显得很是情切。但我却毫无宽慰之情，丝毫没有回到家的感觉。

“去机场走哪条路，贝拉？”贾斯帕问道，让我畏缩了一下，尽管他的声音是那么的温柔，毫无警惕之意。这是这一夜以来，除了汽车的嗡嗡声外，打破这片漫长的沉默的第一个声响。

“沿着I10公路开下去，”我机械地答道。“我们会经过机场。”

我的脑子因为缺乏睡眠而昏昏沉沉的（陷在缺乏睡眠带来的迷雾里），反应很慢。

“我们要飞去别的地方吗？”我问爱丽丝。

“不，但离机场近些会更好些，只是以防万一。”

我想起来了，我的故事是从国际航空港脚下开始的……但不会在这里结束。我猜就是在这个时候，我睡着了。

在我追溯着自己的记忆的时候，我找回了离开车子时留下的模糊的印象——太阳刚刚落到地平线后——我的胳膊搭在爱丽丝的肩膀上，她的一只手臂稳稳地扶住我的腰，一路拖着我。我跌跌拌拌地穿过温暖干燥的林荫道。

我对这间屋子毫无记忆。

我看着床头柜上的电子钟，红色的数字显示着现在是三点钟，但它们并没有指出现在是晚上还是白天。没有一丝光能穿透那些厚重的窗帘，但屋里被灯光照亮了。

我僵硬地爬起身，摇摇晃晃地走到窗前，拉起窗幔。

屋外一片漆黑。所以，现在是凌晨三点。从我的房间看出去，能看见空荡荡的高速路，还有新建的机场昼夜停车楼。能够准确地辨别出时间和地点让我稍微舒服了一些。  

我低头看了看自己。我依然穿着艾思梅的衣服，它们根本不合身。我环顾房间，欣慰地发现我的登山包正放在那张矮脚梳妆台上。

我正要走过去找几件干净衣服，一阵轻轻的敲门声让我跳了起来。

“我能进来吗？”爱丽丝问道。

我深吸了一口气：“当然可以。”

她走进来，用过于谨慎的目光审视着我。“你看上去还能睡更久。（你看起来应该再睡一会儿）”她说道。

我只是摇了摇头。

她掠到窗前，没有发出半点声响，把窗帘安全地拉起来，然后转过身来向着我。

“我们得待在屋子里。”她告诉我。

“好的。”我的声音嘶哑，有些破音。

“渴了？”她问道。

我耸耸肩。“我还好。你呢？”

“没什么大不了的。（一切都在控制之中）”她微笑着。“我给你拿了点食物，放在前头的房间里了。爱德华提醒过我，你得比我们更频繁得进食，而且吃得更多。”

我立刻警觉起来。“他打过电话来？”

“没有。”她说着，看着我耷拉下了脸。“他是在我们离开以前说的。”

她小心地牵起我的手，带着我走出房门，走到酒店套房的起居室里。我听到电视里传来的低低的嗡嗡说话声。贾斯帕一动不动地坐在角落里的桌子旁，他正兴趣索然地看着新闻。

我坐在靠近咖啡桌的地板上，桌上放着一大盘食物。我开动了，却完全没有注意到自己在吃什么。

爱丽丝坐在沙发的扶手上，和贾斯帕一样目光涣散地看着电视。

我一边慢腾腾地吃着，一边看着她，时不时飞快地瞥一眼贾斯帕。我渐渐明白过来，他们太僵硬了。他们的目光始终没有离开屏幕，尽管现在正播放着广告。我推开盘子，我的胃骤然痉挛起来。爱丽丝低下头看着我。

“发生了什么事，爱丽丝？”我问道。

“什么事也没有。”她的眼睛睁得大大的，显得很诚恳……但我根本不相信。

“我们现在在做什么？”

“我们在等卡莱尔打过来。”

“而他这会儿早该打过来了，对吗？”我看得出来，我已经很接近答案了。爱丽丝的眼睛掠过放在她的皮包顶上的手机，然后看回我的眼睛。

“这意味着什么？”我的声音在颤抖，我竭力稳住它。“他到现在还没打过来？”

“这仅仅意味着他们没有什么可告诉我们的。”

可她的声音太平坦了，我几乎透不过气来。

贾斯帕忽然站到了爱丽丝身后，离我比平常更近些。

“贝拉，”他用让人宽心得可疑的语气说道。“你什么也不用担心。你在这里很安全。”

“我知道。”

“那为什么你会这样害怕呢？”他困惑地问道。他大概是感觉到了我情绪的波动，但他没有读懂这背后的原因。

“你听到劳伦说的话了。”我的声音几近耳语，但我敢肯定他们能听见我说话。“他说过詹姆斯是致命的。万一出了什么差错，他们落单了呢？如果他们中的某人发生了什么意外，卡莱尔，艾美特……爱德华……”我吞咽了一下。“如果那个野蛮的女人伤到了艾思梅……”我的声音拉得更高了，一阵竭斯底里的痕迹开始显现在话语里。“这都是我的错，我怎么能有脸活下去呢？你们本来都不必为了我冒险——”

“贝拉，贝拉，打住。”他打断我的话。他的话说得那么快，我几乎跟不上了（几乎无法理解）。“你在担心着不必要的顾虑（你的担心都是多余的/错误的），贝拉。在这件事上，你得相信我——我们没有人身陷险境。事实上，你已经承受了太多的劳累了。不必再加上毫无必要的担心。听我说！”他命令道，因为我正看向别处。“我们的家族很强大。我们唯一害怕的是失去你。”

“可你们为什么要——”

这一次，爱丽丝打断了我，用她冰冷的手指抚摸着我的脸颊。“爱德华独自一人已经过了将近一个世纪了。现在，他终于找到了你。你看不出来他的变化，但我们能，因为我们和他在一起待了这么长的时间。如果他失去了你，你认为我们有谁还想在下一个百年里看着他的眼睛吗？”  

当我凝望着她漆黑的眸子时，我的愧疚慢慢地消失了。一阵平静席卷了我的全身，但是有贾斯帕在这里，我不敢相信自己的感觉。

这真是漫长的一天。

我们终日待在房间里。爱丽丝给前台打电话，让他们不必现在过来打扫房间。窗子一直关着，电视一直开着，但根本没人看。食物会定期地摆到我面前。随着时间的推移，爱丽丝包上的银色手机似乎变得越来越庞大起来。

我的保姆们比我更擅于控制自己的焦虑。当我坐卧不安，踱来踱去的时候，他们只是变得更加沉寂，完全变成了两尊塑像，只有在我走动的时候，他们的目光才会难以察觉地追随着我。为了让自己忙碌起来，我没事找事地熟悉着这个房间：长椅上的条纹图案，黄褐色，桃红色，奶油黄，暗金色，然后又是黄褐色。有时我会盯着那些抽象的图案，对着那些形状胡思乱想着，找出各种图画来，就好像孩提时我对着云朵寻找图画一样。我研究出了一只蓝色的手，一个正在梳头的女人，还有一只伸着懒腰的猫。但当那个浅红色的圆圈变成一只凝视着我的眼睛时，我移开了视线。

当下午终于被打发掉时，我回到了床上，只是想找点事干。我希望当我独自一人待在黑暗里时，我能够肆无忌惮地流下徘徊在自己意识的边缘，在贾斯帕细心的监督下无法决堤的泪水。
但爱丽丝警惕地跟着我走了进来，就好像她碰巧在同一时间厌倦了待在前面的屋子里。我开始怀疑爱德华究竟给了她什么样的指示。我斜躺在床上，她在我身旁坐下来，交叠着腿。起初我并不理会她，却忽然间觉得很疲倦，很想睡觉。但几分钟以后，贾斯帕的缺席使得我的恐惧再度复苏，变得显著起来。我迅速放弃了睡觉的打算，用胳膊抱住腿，蜷成了一个球。

“爱丽丝？”我问道。

“嗯？”

我让自己的声音显得非常平静。“你觉得他们现在在做什么？”

“卡莱尔想把那个追随者引到尽可能北的地方，等着他接近，然后掉转方向伏击他。艾思梅和罗莎莉打算一直往西走，只要那个女人还跟着她们，她们就会继续走下去。如果她改变了方向，她们会径直赶回福克斯照看你爸爸。所以我觉得，如果他们不打电话来，是因为一切顺利。这意味着追随者离得很近，他们不想让他偷听到电话的内容。”

“那艾思梅呢？”

“我想她一定回到福克斯了。她不能在那个女人有可能听到的情况下打电话。我估计他们都只是太过谨慎。”

“你真的认为他们很安全？”

“贝拉，我们得跟你说多少次，我们真的没有面临危险？”

“可是，你会告诉我事实吗？”

“是的。我永远对你实话实说。”她的声音很真挚。

我深思了片刻，然后确定她说的是实话。

“那么，告诉我……你是怎么变成吸血鬼的？”

我的问题让她措手不及。她沉默了。我翻过身去看着她，她的神情似乎很矛盾。

“爱德华不想让我告诉你这些。”她坚定地说道，但我感觉到，她并不赞同这一点。

“这不公平。我想我有权利知道。”

“我知道。”

我看着她，等待着。

她叹了口气。“他会非常，非常生气的。”

“这跟他没关系。这是你我之间的事。爱丽丝，作为朋友，我恳求你。”不知怎的，现在，我们成了朋友——正如她一定早就知道，我们自始至终都将会是朋友。

她用明亮聪慧的眼睛看着我……同时在抉择着。

“我会告诉你这件事技术层面上的细节，”她最终说道。“但我不记得自己是怎么转变的，而且我也从没做过，或者看到过这件事。所以，请记住，我只能告诉你理论部分。”

我在等着。

“作为掠食者，我们拥有大量天生的武器，简直像个天然武器库一样——很多，很多，多得甚至超出必要的范围。强壮，速度，敏锐的感觉，更别提像爱德华，贾斯帕和我这些人，还拥有额外的感觉能力。而且，就像食人花一样，对我们的猎物来说我们很有吸引力。”

我一动不动地，想起了在那块草地上，爱德华曾那么激烈地向我印证着这种观点。

她露出大大的不祥的笑容。“我们还拥有另一种相当多余的武器。我们是有毒的，”她说着，露出闪闪发光的牙齿。“这种毒液并不致命——仅仅是让人无力反抗。它作用得非常慢，通过血液循环来流遍全身，因此，一旦被咬，我们的猎物就会感到全身都在剧痛，根本无法从我们跟前逃走。这基本上是多余的，就像我说的那样。如果我们靠得那么近，猎物是根本不可能逃脱的。当然，也有例外。例如，卡莱尔。”

“所以……如果任由毒液流遍……”我喃喃低语道。

“要完成转变得花上好几天的功夫，这得基于有多少毒液进入了血液循环，还有毒液注入的地方离心脏的距离远近。只要心脏还在跳动，毒液就会继续流动，治愈所有伤口，在流经之处改变身体的构造。最后，当心脏停止跳动时，转变就完成了。但整个过程中，每一分每一秒，那个受害者都会巴不得立刻死去。”

我颤抖了一下。

“你看，这不是什么愉快的事情。”

“爱德华说过这是一件很艰难的事……我不太明白。”我说道。

“在某种程度上，我们很像鲨鱼。一旦我们尝到了鲜血的滋味，或者甚至只是闻到血的味道，就会很难控制住自己不继续喝下去。有时我们根本不可能控制住自己。所以你看，一旦咬了某人，一旦尝到了血，我们就会开始变得狂暴起来。这对双方来说都很艰难——一方要承受对血液的渴求，另一方要承受痛苦。”

“为什么你认为你不记得了呢？”

“我不知道。对其他人来说，转变的痛苦是他们对人类生活的最深刻的记忆。我却完全不记得当人类时的事。”她的声音充满了渴望。

我们沉默地躺着，沉浸在各自的思绪中。

时间一分一秒地过去了，我几乎忘记了她的存在，完全陷入了深思。

然后，毫无预警地，爱丽丝从床上跳起来，轻盈地落到地上站住。我猛地抬起头，吃惊地看着她。

“某些事改变了。”她的声音很紧迫，不再和我说话了。

她伸手推门的那一刻，贾斯帕把门打开了。他显然听到了我们的对话，还有她的突然惊呼。他把手放到她肩膀上，领着她走到床前，让她坐到床边上。  

“你看见了什么？”他看着她的眼睛，紧张地问。她的眼睛专注着凝视着某些非常遥远的事物。我紧挨着她坐下来，倚过身子捕捉她低低的飞快的声音。

“我看见一个房间。一个长长的房间，到处都是镜子。地板是木制的。他在房间里，等待着。还有金色的……镜子上有一条金边。”

“那个房间在哪里？”

“我不知道。还缺少一些信息——另一方还没做出决定。”

“还有多久？”

“很快。他今天就会在那间满是镜子的房间里，又或许是明天。这得看情况。他在等待着什么。他现在正在黑暗之中。”

贾斯帕的声音很冷静，很有条理，他轻车熟路地向她提问道。“他在做什么？”

“他在看电视……不，他在放录像，周围一片黑暗，他正在别的某个地方。”

“你看得出他在哪里吗？”

“不能，太黑了。”

“那间满是镜子的房间，那里还有别的什么吗？”

“就是镜子，还有金色。那是一道金带，环绕着整个房间。还有一张黑色的桌子，上面放着一个大型音箱和一台电视。他正在那里摆弄着那盘录像带，但不像在那间黑屋子里那样看着它。这就是他在等着的那间房间。”她涣散的目光慢慢集中起来，然后落到了贾斯帕的脸上。

“没有别的了吗？”

她摇了摇头。他们看着彼此，一动不动。

“这意味着什么？”我问道。

有那么一会儿，他们谁也没有回答。然后，贾斯帕看向我。

“这意味着追猎者改变了计划。他做出了某个决定，这个决定把他带到了那间满是镜子的房间，还有那个黑屋子。”

“但我们不知道那些房间在哪里？”

“没错。”

“但我们确切地知道，他不会在华盛顿山脉的北边，也不会被猎杀。他会躲过他们。”爱丽丝的声音很绝望。

“我们要打电话吗？”我问道。他们交换了一个严肃的神情，拿不定主意。

这时，电话响了起来。


我还没来得及抬起头看着电话，爱丽丝已经穿过了房间。

她按下一个键，把电话举到耳边，但起初她并没有说话。

“卡莱尔，”她屏息说道。她似乎既没有感到惊讶，也没有感到宽慰，而那两种情绪都是我正感受到的。

“是的。”她说着，瞥了我一眼。然后有很长一段时间她只是在听，没有说话。

“我刚刚看见了他。”她把她看见的景象又描述了一遍。“某件事让他登上了那班飞机……把他带到了那些房间那里。”她停顿了片刻。“是的，”爱丽丝对着电话里说道，然后对我说话。“贝拉？”

她把电话遥遥伸向我。我飞奔过去。

“你好？”我屏息问道。

“贝拉。”爱德华说道。

“噢，爱德华！我担心极了！”

“贝拉，”他挫败地叹了口气。“我告诉过你，你什么都不用担心，操心你自己的事就行。”听到他的声音的感觉美好得让人难以置信。我感觉到，当他说话时，笼罩在我头顶的绝望的乌云逐渐淡去，消失不见了。

“你在哪里？”

“我们在温哥华城外。贝拉，对不起——我们失去了他的踪迹。他似乎对我们起了疑心——他一直小心地跟在足够远的距离之外，我根本没法听到他的想法。但现在他离开了——看样子他坐上了一架航班。我们认为他正径直回到福克斯，从头开始。”我能听到爱丽丝正在我背后和贾斯帕说着话，她飞快的话语全都挤在一起，模糊成一阵嗡嗡的杂音。

“我知道。爱丽丝看见他脱身了。”

“不过，你不必担心。他找不到任何线索能把他带到你身边。你只需要待在那里，等我们再次找到他为止。”

“我很好。艾思梅正和查理一起吗？”

“是的——那个女人待在镇上。她进了屋子，但那时查理正在工作。她根本没能靠近他，所以别害怕。有艾思梅和罗莎莉看着，他会很安全的。”

“她在做什么？”

“也许是在发掘线索。夜里她在镇里四处游荡。罗莎莉跟着她穿过了机场，镇上的所有道路，还有学校……贝拉，她正在掘地三尺，但什么也没找到。”

“你保证查理很安全？”

“是的，艾思梅不会让他离开自己的视线的。我们很快也会到那里去。如果追猎者跑到福克斯附近的任何地方，我们就能抓住他了。”

“我很想你。”我低声说道。

“我知道，贝拉。相信我，我知道。就像是你把一半的我带走了一样。”

“那么，来把你的另一半带走吧。”我故意向他挑衅道。

“马上，只要我能，我就会来。但我首先得保证你安全。”他的声音很艰难。（他的声音听起来备受煎熬）

“纵然我让你经历了那么多事情（吃了那么多苦头），你能相信，我也爱着你吗？”

“是的，我确信无疑。”

“为你，我会尽快赶过来。”

“我等着。”

通话刚刚结束，那片惨淡的愁云又席卷了我。  

我转过身去，想把电话还给爱丽丝，却发现她和贾斯帕正伏在桌子上。爱丽丝正在一张宾馆信纸画着速写。我倚在沙发背上，越过她的肩膀看着。

她在画一个房间：一个长长的，方形的房间，房间后部是一个更为模糊的，方形的隔间。地上铺着木制的地板，纹路纵穿了整个房间。墙上是一溜儿的镜子，镜子间的缝隙装饰着衬边。然后，环绕在墙面上，齐腰高的地方，是一条长长的衬边。爱丽丝说过，那条衬边是金色的。

“这是一间芭蕾舞教室。”我忽然认出了那个熟悉的轮廓，说道。

他们惊奇地看着我。

“你知道这间屋子？”贾斯帕的声音听起来很冷静，但在冷静之下，涌动着我无法辨别的某种情绪。爱丽丝俯下头看着自己的作品，她的手飞快地掠过纸面，一个紧急出口的轮廓浮现在屋后的墙上，那台立体声和电视机出现在了房间前部右边的角落里。

“看上去像是我去上过舞蹈课的地方——那时我八岁，或者九岁。它的布局和这屋子一样。”我点着纸面，指着房间后部忽然变窄的，那个突兀的方形隔间。“那地方是浴室——这些门通向其他的舞厅。但那台立体声原本在这里。”——我指点着左边的屋角——“它要更旧些，而且也没有那台电视。在等候室里有一扇窗子——如果你透过它看过去的话，你能从这个角度把整间屋子尽收眼底。”

爱丽丝和贾斯帕都盯着我看。

“你确定这是同一间屋子？”贾斯帕问道，语气依然平静。

“不，完全不能——我猜大多数舞蹈教室看上去都是这个样子——同样的镜子，同样的扶杆。”我的手指描着镜子上的那圈芭蕾扶杆。“只是这轮廓看起来很熟悉。”我点住那扇门，它就在我记忆中那扇门的位置上。

“你现在有什么非去那里不可的理由吗？”爱丽丝问道，打破了我的深思。

“没有，我差不多有十年没去过那里了。我是个蹩脚的舞者——他们通常把我安排在后排朗诵。”我坦白道。

“所以那里跟你毫无关系？”爱丽丝专心地问道。

“没有，我甚至不知道它是否是由同一个人开办的。我敢肯定那是别处的某家舞蹈教室。”

“你去上课的那家教室在哪里？”贾斯帕用不经意的语气问道。

“就在我母亲的房子的那条街道上的拐角处。我过去一放学就走过去……”我说着，话音渐渐消失了。我没有错过他们交换的眼神。

“那么，是在凤凰城？”他的声音依然漫不经心。

“是的，”我低声说道。“仙人掌街五十八号。”

我们都沉默地坐在那里，盯着那幅画。

“爱丽丝，那个电话安全吗？”

“是的，”她向我保证。“那个号码只能被追溯到华盛顿去。”

“那么等会儿我可以用它打给我妈妈。”

“我以为她正在佛罗里达。”

“是的——但她很快就要回家了，她不能在这时候回家，在……”我的声音颤抖起来。我在想着爱德华说过的某件事，那个红发的女人曾去过查理的家，去过学校，那里都有我的记录。

“你要怎么和她联系？”

“他们没在家里装固定电话——她会频繁地检查自己的短信。”

“贾斯帕？”爱丽丝问道。

他思索着这件事。“我不认为这件事有什么坏处——当然，你得确保不说出你所在的地方。”  

我迫不及待地抓过电话，拨下了我最熟悉的那组号码。响了几声以后，我听到了我母亲活泼的声音，让我在嘟声后留言。

“妈妈，”嘟声过后，我说道。“是我。听着，我需要你做一件事。这很重要。你一收到这条留言，就立刻打给我，打这个号码。”爱丽丝已经站到了我身旁，在她那幅图的边角上写下了电话号码。我清清楚楚地念了两遍。“求你，在跟我通话以前，哪里都别去。别担心，我很好，但我得立刻跟你谈话，不管你多晚接到这通留言。好吗？我爱你，妈妈。再见。”我闭上眼睛，全心全意地祈祷她在接到我的留言以前，情况不要发生任何计划之外的改变让她赶回家。  
我把自己埋进沙发里，一点一点地吃掉那碟剩下的水果，知道自己将迎来一个漫长的夜晚。我想要打电话给查理，但我不知道现在我是否应该已经到家了。
我专心致志地看着新闻，关注着佛罗里达的报道，或者关于春训的消息——罢工，飓风，或是恐怖袭击——任何有可能让他们提前回家的事情。  
永生不朽一定赋予了他们无尽的耐心。无论是贾斯帕还是爱丽丝，似乎都不觉得有必要做些什么（来打发时间）。有一会儿，爱丽丝在描绘着她所看见的那间黑暗的屋子模糊的轮廓，细节详尽得就像是她是从电视里清清楚楚地看到的一样。但当她画着的时候，她只是坐在那里，用那双永恒的眼睛凝视着空白的墙面。贾斯帕，同样地，也没有感到丝毫迫切，既不想踱来踱去，也不想从窗帘后向外偷看，或者跑到门外去尖叫。而我，正处于这样的冲动之中。  


我一定是在等着电话再次响起的时候，在沙发上睡着的。爱丽丝把我抱到床上的时候，她冰冷的手的触感让我半梦半醒，但还没等我的头落到枕头上，我就又睡着了。
20. IMPATIENCE

When I woke up I was confused. My thoughts were hazy, still twisted up in
dreams and nightmares; it took me longer than it should have to realize
where I was.

This room was too bland to belong anywhere but in a hotel. The bedside
lamps, bolted to the tables, were a dead giveaway, as were the long
drapes made from the same fabric as the bedspread, and the generic
watercolor prints on the walls.

I tried to remember how I got here, but nothing came at first.

I did remember the sleek black car, the glass in the windows darker than
that on a limousine. The engine was almost silent, though we'd raced
across the black freeways at more than twice the legal speed.

And I remembered Alice sitting with me on the dark leather backseat.
Somehow, during the long night, my head had ended up against her granite
neck. My closeness didn't seem to bother her at all, and her cool, hard
skin was oddly comforting to me. The front of her thin cotton shirt was
cold, damp with the tears that streamed from my eyes until, red and sore,
they ran dry.

Sleep had evaded me; my aching eyes strained open even though the night
finally ended and dawn broke over a low peak somewhere in California. The
gray light, streaking across the cloudless sky, stung my eyes. But I
couldn't close them; when I did, the images that flashed all too vividly,
like still slides behind my lids, were unbearable. Charlie's broken
expression — Edward's brutal snarl, teeth bared — Rosalie's resentful
glare — the keen-eyed scrutiny of the tracker — the dead look in Edward's
eyes after he kissed me the last time… I couldn't stand to see them. So I
fought against my weariness and the sun rose higher.

I was still awake when we came through a shallow mountain pass and the
sun, behind us now, reflected off the tiled rooftops of the Valley of the
Sun. I didn't have enough emotion left to be surprised that we'd made a
three-day journey in one. I stared blankly at the wide, flat expanse laid
out in front of me. Phoenix — the palm trees, the scrubby creosote, the
haphazard lines of the intersecting freeways, the green swaths of golf
courses and turquoise splotches of swimming pools, all submerged in a
thin smog and embraced by the short, rocky ridges that weren't really big
enough to be called mountains.

The shadows of the palm trees slanted across the freeway — defined,
sharper than I remembered, paler than they should be. Nothing could hide
in these shadows. The bright, open freeway seemed benign enough. But I
felt no relief, no sense of homecoming.

"Which way to the airport, Bella?" Jasper had asked, and I flinched,
though his voice was quite soft and un-alarming. It was the first sound,
besides the purr of the car, to break the long night's silence.

"Stay on the I-ten," I'd answered automatically. "We'll pass right by it."

My brain had worked slowly through the fog of sleep deprivation.

"Are we flying somewhere?" I'd asked Alice.

"No, but it's better to be close, just in case."

I remembered beginning the loop around Sky Harbor International… but not
ending it. I suppose that must have been when I'd fallen asleep.

Though, now that I'd chased the memories down, I did have a vague
impression of leaving the car — the sun was just falling behind the
horizon — my arm draped over Alice's shoulder and her arm firm around my
waist, dragging me along as I stumbled through the warm, dry shadows.

I had no memory of this room.

I looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. The red numbers claimed
it was three o'clock, but they gave no indication if it was night or day.
No edge of light escaped the thick curtains, but the room was bright with
the light from the lamps.

I rose stiffly and staggered to the window, pulling back the drapes.

It was dark outside. Three in the morning, then. My room looked out on a
deserted section of the freeway and the new long-term parking garage for
the airport. It was slightly comforting to be able to pinpoint time and
place.

I looked down at myself. I was still wearing Esme's clothes, and they
didn't fit very well at all. I looked around the room, glad when I
discovered my duffel bag on top of the low dresser.

I was on my way to find new clothes when a light tap on the door made me
jump.

"Can I come in?" Alice asked.

I took a deep breath. "Sure."

She walked in, and looked me over cautiously. "You look like you could
sleep longer," she said.

I just shook my head.

She drifted silently to the curtains and closed them securely before
turning back to me.

"We'll need to stay inside," she told me.

"Okay." My voice was hoarse; it cracked.

"Thirsty?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I'm okay. How about you?"

"Nothing unmanageable." She smiled. "I ordered some food for you, it's in
the front room. Edward reminded me that you have to eat a lot more
frequently than we do."

I was instantly more alert. "He called?"

"No," she said, and watched as my face fell. "It was before we left."

She took my hand carefully and led me through the door into the living
room of the hotel suite. I could hear a low buzz of voices coming from
the TV. Jasper sat motionlessly at the desk in the corner, his eyes
watching the news with no glimmer of interest.

I sat on the floor next to the coffee table, where a tray of food waited,
and began picking at it without noticing what I was eating.

Alice perched on the arm of the sofa and stared blankly at the TV like
Jasper.

I ate slowly, watching her, turning now and then to glance quickly at
Jasper. It began to dawn on me that they were too still. They never
looked away from the screen, though commercials were playing now. I
pushed the tray away, my stomach abruptly uneasy. Alice looked down at me.

"What's wrong, Alice?" I asked.

"Nothing's wrong." Her eyes were wide, honest… and I didn't trust them.

"What do we do now?"

"We wait for Carlisle to call."

"And should he have called by now?" I could see that I was near the mark.

Alice's eyes flitted from mine to the phone on top of her leather bag and
back.

"What does that mean?" My voice quavered, and I fought to control it.
"That he hasn't called yet?"

"It just means that they don't have anything to tell us."

But her voice was too even, and the air was harder to breathe.

Jasper was suddenly beside Alice, closer to me than usual.

"Bella," he said in a suspiciously soothing voice. "You have nothing to
worry about. You are completely safe here."

"I know that."

"Then why are you frightened?" he asked, confused. He might feel the
tenor of my emotions, but he couldn't read the reasons behind them.

"You heard what Laurent said." My voice was just a whisper, but I was
sure they could hear me. "He said James was lethal. What if something
goes wrong, and they get separated? If something happens to any of them,
Carlisle, Emmett… Edward…" I gulped. "If that wild female hurts Esme…" My
voice had grown higher, a note of hysteria beginning to rise in it. "How
could I live with myself when it's my fault? None of you should be
risking yourselves for me —"

"Bella, Bella, stop," he interrupted me, his words pouring out so quickly
they were hard to understand. "You're worrying about all the wrong
things, Bella. Trust me on this — none of us are in jeopardy. You are
under too much strain as it is; don't add to it with wholly unnecessary
worries. Listen to me!" he ordered, for I had looked away. "Our family is
strong. Our only fear is losing you."

"But why should you —"

Alice interrupted this time, touching my cheek with her cold fingers.
"It's been almost a century that Edward's been alone. Now he's found you.
You can't see the changes that we see, we who have been with him for so
long. Do you think any of us want to look into his eyes for the next
hundred years if he loses you?"

My guilt slowly subsided as I looked into her dark eyes. But, even as the
calm spread over me, I knew I couldn't trust my feelings with Jasper
there.

It was a very long day.

We stayed in the room. Alice called down to the front desk and asked them
to ignore our maid service for now. The windows stayed shut, the TV on,
though no one watched it. At regular intervals, food was delivered for
me. The silver phone resting on Alice's bag seemed to grow bigger as the
hours passed.

My babysitters handled the suspense better than I did. As I fidgeted and
paced, they simply grew more still, two statues whose eyes followed me
imperceptibly as I moved. I occupied myself with memorizing the room; the
striped pattern of the couches, tan, peach, cream, dull gold, and tan
again. Sometimes I stared at the abstract prints, randomly finding
pictures in the shapes, like I'd found pictures in the clouds as a child.
I traced a blue hand, a woman combing her hair, a cat stretching. But
when the pale red circle became a staring eye, I looked away.

As the afternoon wore on, I went back to bed, simply for something to do.
I hoped that by myself in the dark, I could give in to the terrible fears
that hovered on the edge of my consciousness, unable to break through
under Jasper's careful supervision.

But Alice followed me casually, as if by some coincidence she had grown
tired of the front room at the same time. I was beginning to wonder
exactly what sort of instructions Edward had given her. I lay across the

bed, and she sat, legs folded, next to me. I ignored her at first,
suddenly tired enough to sleep. But after a few minutes, the panic that
had held off in Jasper's presence began to make itself known. I gave up
on the idea of sleep quickly then, curling up into a small ball, wrapping
my arms around my legs.

"Alice?" I asked.

"Yes?"

I kept my voice very calm. "What do you think they're doing?"

"Carlisle wanted to lead the tracker as far north as possible, wait for
him to get close, and then turn and ambush him. Esme and Rosalie were
supposed to head west as long as they could keep the female behind them.
If she turned around, they were to head back to Forks and keep an eye on
your dad. So I imagine things are going well if they can't call. It means
the tracker is close enough that they don't want him to overhear."

"And Esme?"

"I think she must be back in Forks. She won't call if there's any chance
the female will overhear. I expect they're all just being very careful."

"Do you think they're safe, really?"

"Bella, how many times do we have to tell you that there's no danger to
us?"

"Would you tell me the truth, though?"

"Yes. I will always tell you the truth." Her voice was earnest.

I deliberated for a moment, and decided she meant it.

"Tell me then… how do you become a vampire?"

My question caught her off guard. She was quiet. I rolled over to look at
her, and her expression seemed ambivalent.

"Edward doesn't want me to tell you that," she said firmly, but I sensed
she didn't agree.

"That's not fair. I think I have a right to know."

"I know."

I looked at her, waiting.

She sighed. "He'll be extremely angry."

"It's none of his business. This is between you and me. Alice, as a
friend, I'm begging you." And we were friends now, somehow — as she must
have known we would be all along.

She looked at me with her splendid, wise eyes… choosing.

"I'll tell you the mechanics of it," she said finally, "but I don't
remember it myself, and I've never done it or seen it done, so keep in
mind that I can only tell you the theory."

I waited.

"As predators, we have a glut of weapons in our physical arsenal — much,
much more than really necessary. The strength, the speed, the acute
senses, not to mention those of us like Edward, Jasper, and I, who have
extra senses as well. And then, like a carnivorous flower, we are
physically attractive to our prey."

I was very still, remembering how pointedly Edward had demonstrated the
same concept for me in the meadow.

She smiled a wide, ominous smile. "We have another fairly superfluous
weapon. We're also venomous," she said, her teeth glistening. "The venom
doesn't kill — it's merely incapacitating. It works slowly, spreading
through the bloodstream, so that, once bitten, our prey is in too much
physical pain to escape us. Mostly superfluous, as I said. If we're that
close, the prey doesn't escape. Of course, there are always exceptions.
Carlisle, for example."

"So… if the venom is left to spread…" I murmured.

"It takes a few days for the transformation to be complete, depending on
how much venom is in the bloodstream, how close the venom enters to the
heart. As long as the heart keeps beating, the poison spreads, healing,
changing the body as it moves through it. Eventually the heart stops, and
the conversion is finished. But all that time, every minute of it, a
victim would be wishing for death."

I shivered.

"It's not pleasant, you see."

"Edward said that it was very hard to do… I don't quite understand," I
said.

"We're also like sharks in a way. Once we taste the blood, or even smell
it for that matter, it becomes very hard to keep from feeding. Sometimes
impossible. So you see, to actually bite someone, to taste the blood, it
would begin the frenzy. It's difficult on both sides — the blood-lust on
the one hand, the awful pain on the other."

"Why do you think you don't remember?"

"I don't know. For everyone else, the pain of transformation is the
sharpest memory they have of their human life. I remember nothing of
being human." Her voice was wistful.

We lay silently, wrapped in our individual meditations.

The seconds ticked by, and I had almost forgotten her presence, I was so
enveloped in my thoughts.

Then, without any warning, Alice leaped from the bed, landing lightly on
her feet. My head jerked up as I stared at her, startled.

"Something's changed." Her voice was urgent, and she wasn't talking to me
anymore.

She reached the door at the same time Jasper did. He had obviously heard
our conversation and her sudden exclamation. He put his hands on her
shoulders and guided her back to the bed, sitting her on the edge.

"What do you see?" he asked intently, staring into her eyes. Her eyes
were focused on something very far away. I sat close to her, leaning in
to catch her low, quick voice.

"I see a room. It's long, and there are mirrors everywhere. The floor is
wooden. He's in the room, and he's waiting. There's gold… a gold stripe
across the mirrors."

"Where is the room?"

"I don't know. Something is missing — another decision hasn't been made
yet."

"How much time?"

"It's soon. He'll be in the mirror room today, or maybe tomorrow. It all
depends. He's waiting for something. And he's in the dark now."

Jasper's voice was calm, methodical, as he questioned her in a practiced
way. "What is he doing?"

"He's watching TV… no, he's running a VCR, in the dark, in another place."

"Can you see where he is?"

"No, it's too dark."

"And the mirror room, what else is there?"

"Just the mirrors, and the gold. It's a band, around the room. And
there's a black table with a big stereo, and a TV. He's touching the VCR
there, but he doesn't watch the way he does in the dark room. This is the
room where he waits." Her eyes drifted, then focused on Jasper's face.

"There's nothing else?"

She shook her head. They looked at each other, motionless.

"What does it mean?" I asked.

Neither of them answered for a moment, then Jasper looked at me.

"It means the tracker's plans have changed. He's made a decision that
will lead him to the mirror room, and the dark room."

"But we don't know where those rooms are?"

"No."

"But we do know that he won't be in the mountains north of Washington,
being hunted. He'll elude them." Alice's voice was bleak.

"Should we call?" I asked. They traded a serious look, undecided.

And the phone rang.

Alice was across the room before I could lift my head to look at it.

She pushed a button and held the phone to her ear, but she didn't speak
first.

"Carlisle," she breathed. She didn't seem surprised or relieved, the way
I felt.

"Yes," she said, glancing at me. She listened for a long moment.

"I just saw him." She described again the vision she'd seen. "Whatever
made him get on that plane… it was leading him to those rooms." She
paused. "Yes," Alice said into the phone, and then she spoke to me.
"Bella?"

She held the phone out toward me. I ran to it.

"Hello?" I breathed.

"Bella," Edward said.

"Oh, Edward! I was so worried."

"Bella," he sighed in frustration, "I told you not to worry about
anything but yourself." It was so unbelievably good to hear his voice. I
felt the hovering cloud of despair lighten and drift back as he spoke.

"Where are you?"

"We're outside of Vancouver. Bella, I'm sorry — we lost him. He seems
suspicious of us — he's careful to stay just far enough away that I can't
hear what he's thinking. But he's gone now — it looks like he got on a
plane. We think he's heading back to Forks to start over." I could hear
Alice filling in Jasper behind me, her quick words blurring together into
a humming noise.

"I know. Alice saw that he got away."

"You don't have to worry, though. He won't find anything to lead him to
you. You just have to stay there and wait till we find him again."

"I'll be fine. Is Esme with Charlie?"

"Yes — the female has been in town. She went to the house, but while
Charlie was at work. She hasn't gone near him, so don't be afraid. He's
safe with Esme and Rosalie watching."

"What is she doing?"

"Probably trying to pick up the trail. She's been all through the town
during the night. Rosalie traced her through the airport, all the roads
around town, the school… she's digging, Bella, but there's nothing to
find."

"And you're sure Charlie's safe?"

"Yes, Esme won't let him out of her sight. And we'll be there soon. If
the tracker gets anywhere near Forks, we'll have him."

"I miss you," I whispered.

"I know, Bella. Believe me, I know. It's like you've taken half my self
away with you."

"Come and get it, then," I challenged.

"Soon, as soon as I possibly can. I will make you safe first." His voice
was hard.

"I love you," I reminded him.

"Could you believe that, despite everything I've put you through, I love
you, too?"

"Yes, I can, actually."

"I'll come for you soon."

"I'll be waiting."

As soon as the phone went dead, the cloud of depression began to creep
over me again.

I turned to give the phone back to Alice and found her and Jasper bent
over the table, where Alice was sketching on a piece of hotel stationery.
I leaned on the back of the couch, looking over her shoulder.

She drew a room: long, rectangular, with a thinner, square section at the
back. The wooden planks that made up the floor stretched lengthwise
across the room. Down the walls were lines denoting the breaks in the
mirrors. And then, wrapping around the walls, waist high, a long band.
The band Alice said was gold.

"It's a ballet studio," I said, suddenly recognizing the familiar shapes.

They looked at me, surprised.

"Do you know this room?" Jasper's voice sounded calm, but there was an
undercurrent of something I couldn't identify. Alice bent her head to her
work, her hand flying across the page now, the shape of an emergency exit
taking shape against the back wall, the stereo and TV on a low table by
the front right corner.

"It looks like a place I used to go for dance lessons — when I was eight
or nine. It was shaped just the same." I touched the page where the
square section jutted out, narrowing the back part of the room. "That's
where the bathrooms were — the doors were through the other dance floor.
But the stereo was here" — I pointed to the left corner — "it was older,
and there wasn't a TV. There was a window in the waiting room — you would

see the room from this perspective if you looked through it."

Alice and Jasper were staring at me.

"Are you sure it's the same room?" Jasper asked, still calm.

"No, not at all — I suppose most dance studios would look the same — the
mirrors, the bar." I traced my finger along the ballet bar set against
the mirrors. "It's just the shape that looked familiar." I touched the
door, set in exactly the same place as the one I remembered.

"Would you have any reason to go there now?" Alice asked, breaking my
reverie.

"No, I haven't been there in almost ten years. I was a terrible dancer —
they always put me in the back for recitals," I admitted.

"So there's no way it could be connected with you?" Alice asked intently.

"No, I don't even think the same person owns it. I'm sure it's just
another dance studio, somewhere."

"Where was the studio you went to?" Jasper asked in a casual voice.

"It was just around the corner from my mom's house. I used to walk there
after school…" I said, my voice trailing off. I didn't miss the look they
exchanged.

"Here in Phoenix, then?" His voice was still casual.

"Yes," I whispered. "Fifty-eighth Street and Cactus."

We all sat in silence, staring at the drawing.

"Alice, is that phone safe?"

"Yes," she reassured me. "The number would just trace back to Washington."

"Then I can use it to call my mom."

"I thought she was in Florida."

"She is — but she's coming home soon, and she can't come back to that
house while…" My voice trembled. I was thinking about something Edward
had said, about the red-haired female at Charlie's house, at the school,
where my records would be.

"How will you reach her?"

"They don't have a permanent number except at the house — she's supposed
to check her messages regularly."

"Jasper?" Alice asked.

He thought about it. "I don't think there's any way it could hurt — be
sure you don't say where you are, of course."

I reached eagerly for the phone and dialed the familiar number. It rang
four times, and then I heard my mom's breezy voice telling me to leave a
message.

"Mom," I said after the beep, "it's me. Listen, I need you to do
something. It's important. As soon as you get this message, call me at
this number." Alice was already at my side, writing the number for me on
the bottom of her picture. I read it carefully, twice. "Please don't go
anywhere until you talk to me. Don't worry, I'm okay, but I have to talk
to you right away, no matter how late you get this call, all right? I
love you, Mom. Bye." I closed my eyes and prayed with all my might that
no unforeseen change of plans would bring her home before she got my
message.

I settled into the sofa, nibbling on a plate of leftover fruit,

anticipating a long evening. I thought about calling Charlie, but I
wasn't sure if I should be home by now or not. I concentrated on the
news, watching out for stories about Florida, or about spring training —
strikes or hurricanes or terrorist attacks — anything that might send
them home early.

Immortality must grant endless patience. Neither Jasper nor Alice seemed
to feel the need to do anything at all. For a while, Alice sketched the
vague outline of the dark room from her vision, as much as she could see
in the light from the TV. But when she was done, she simply sat, looking
at the blank walls with her timeless eyes. Jasper, too, seemed to have no
urge to pace, or peek through the curtains, or run screaming out the
door, the way I did.

I must have fallen asleep on the couch, waiting for the phone to ring
again. The touch of Alice's cold hands woke me briefly as she carried me
to the bed, but I was unconscious again before my head hit the pillow.
回复 引用 新鲜事
顶端
八爷°

ZxID：13286336

1247314鲜花 70鸡蛋

等级: 内阁元老
配偶: 四和七
离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
举报 只看该作者 18楼  发表于: 2012-08-16 0
第十八章 猎杀、第十九章 道别

第十八章 猎杀

他们一个接一个地出现在密林边缘，分散着走在十几米的范围之内。第一个出现的男子立刻退了回去，让另一个男子走在前头，自己则紧跟着那个高大的黑发的男子。从某种程度上说，这一举动彰显着后者才是这一群人的头领。第三个是一个女性，隔着这么远的距离，我只能看见她那一头惊人的带着红影的长发。

他们紧紧地聚拢在一起，然后才警惕地继续朝着爱德华的家人走去，表现出一群结伴而行的掠食者在遭遇一群更庞大的陌生同类时的本能反应。

当他们走近的时候，我看出了他们和卡伦一家的不同之处。他们走路像猫一样，是一种似乎随时都准备着变化身形蜷下身来的步法。他们的穿着是寻常的徒步旅行者的打扮：都穿着牛仔裤和没系扣子的厚重的防水面料的恤衫。但是，他们的衣物都很破旧，而且他们都打着赤脚。男人们都理着平头，但那个女人鲜亮的橙色头发里粘满了树叶和碎树枝。

他们锐利的眼睛仔细地打量着姿势更为优美文雅的卡莱尔，艾美特和贾斯帕小心提防着走到卡莱尔的两侧，与他们会合。在没有任何交流的情况下，他们都站直了身子，换成一种更为警惕的，直立的防御姿态。

站在前头的那个男人显然是他们之中最美丽的，在那种典型的苍白的色调之下，他的肌肤是橄榄色的，他的头发乌黑发亮。他体格中等，当然，肌肉很发达，但跟艾美特的肌肉群相比简直是小巫见大巫。他轻松地笑着，隐约露出雪白的牙齿。

那个女人看上去更野蛮些，她的眼睛不停地打量着直视着她的男人们，还有环绕在我身旁的松散的人墙。她乱糟糟的头发在微风中轻轻颤动着。她的姿势显然就像猫科动物那样。第二个男人徘徊在他们身后，很不引人注目，他的体格比领头的人更纤细些，他浅棕色的头发和平板的五官都乏善可陈，他的目光僵直着，但不知怎地他的眼神看上去最为警觉。

他们的眼睛也不一样。不是我原先想到的金色或是黑色，而是一种深深的勃艮第葡萄酒的颜色，看上去既暴躁又凶恶。

那个黑发男子依然微笑着，向卡莱尔走去。

“我们觉得，我们听见了打球赛的声音。”他用一种放松的口吻说道，带着极淡的法国口音。“我是劳伦，他们是维多利亚和詹姆斯。”他指了指他身后的两个吸血鬼。

“我是卡莱尔。他们是我的家人，艾美特和贾斯帕，罗莎莉，艾思梅和爱丽丝，还有爱德华和贝拉。”他三三两两地介绍着我们，故意不让他们的注意力落到某个特定的人身上。当他说到我的名字时，我吃了一惊。

“你们还有空位让别的选手加入吗？”劳伦和蔼可亲地问道。

卡莱尔配合着劳伦友好的语气说道。“其实，我们正要结束游戏。但下次的话我们一定会很乐意的。你们打算在这个地区久留吗？”

“事实上，我们正在去北方的路上，但我们都很好奇，想看看是谁住在这附近。我们已经很久没有碰到过同类了。”

“不，这个地区通常都是空的，只有我们住在这里，偶尔会有访客经过，比方说你们。”

一触即发的紧张气氛慢慢地消失了，谈话变得随意起来。我猜贾斯帕正在用他特有的天赋在控制着局面。  

“你们都在哪里狩猎？”劳伦若无其事地寒暄道。

卡莱尔并不理会隐藏在问话里的假设。“这里的奥林匹亚山脉，偶尔也会涉足南北两侧的沿海山脉。我们在这附近有个固定住所。德纳利峰附近也有一群像我们这样的定居者。”

劳伦微微震惊地站直了身子。

“固定住所？你们是怎么做到的？”他声音里的好奇显露无遗。

“你们为什么不到我们家里坐坐，这样我们可以更舒服地谈话？”卡莱尔邀请道。“这可是个很长很长的故事。”

听到“家”这个词，詹姆斯和维多利亚交换了一个惊讶的眼神，但劳伦更好地控制住了自己的表情。

“这听上去很有趣，我们很受欢迎。”他和蔼地笑着。“我们从安大略湖过来，一路上都在狩猎，还没有机会停下来梳洗一番。”他的目光欣赏地打量着卡莱尔优雅的装束。

“请不要客气，但如果你们能尽量克制避免就近在这个地区狩猎，我们会非常感激的。我们要待在这里，得不引人注目，你能明白的。”卡莱尔解释道。

“当然。”劳伦点点头。“我们确实不想侵占你们的领地。无论如何，我们会在西雅图之外进食。”他大笑起来。一阵战栗滑过我的脊背。

“我们会给你们指路，如果你们愿意和我们一起奔跑的话——艾美特和爱丽丝，你们跟爱德华和贝拉一起坐越野车走。”他若无其事地补充道。

在卡莱尔说话的当儿，有三件事碰巧同时发生了。我的头发被微风吹乱了，爱德华僵住了，而第二个男人，詹姆斯，忽然转过头来，审视着我，他的鼻孔张大了。  


当詹姆斯蜷下腰向我踏出第一步的时候，所有人都迅速地僵直起来。爱德华露出牙齿，防备地蜷下腰，一阵狂野的咆哮冲出了他的喉头。

这完全不像今天早上我听到的他那种玩闹的咆哮。这绝对是我所听过的最具威胁性的声音。一阵寒意从我的头顶一直传到我的脚后跟。

“这是怎么回事？”劳伦大叫起来，丝毫没有掩饰自己的惊讶。但詹姆斯和爱德华都没有放松他们攻击性的姿势。詹姆斯做了个假动作，稍微往旁边挪了挪，爱德华立刻做出了相应的反应，也移动了身形。

“她和我们是一起的。”卡莱尔向詹姆斯断然拒绝道，明白地显示着他坚定的态度。劳伦似乎并没有像詹姆斯那样捕捉到了我的味道，但他脸上现在露出了明白过来的神情。

“你们还带了点心来？”他问道，脸上露出了怀疑的神色，不知不觉往前走了一步。

爱德华的咆哮变得更加凶狠，更加刺耳，他的上唇高高地卷起，闪亮的牙齿展露无遗。劳伦又退了回去。

“我说了，她和我们是一起的。”卡莱尔用严厉的声音更正道。

“可她是人类。”劳伦大声说道。这些话与其说是挑衅，不如说是震惊。

“是的。”艾美特显然站在了卡莱尔这边，他的眼睛注视着詹姆斯。詹姆斯慢慢地直起蜷伏的身子，但他的眼睛始终盯着我，他的鼻孔依然张得大大的。爱德华紧张地守护在我跟前，有如一头雄狮。

劳伦开了口，他的声音有着安慰的味道——试图减轻这阵突如其来的敌意。“看来我们对彼此还有许多需要相互了解的地方。”

“确实如此。”卡莱尔的声音非常冷淡。

“但我们还是很乐意接受你们的邀请。”他飞快地瞥了我一眼，又看回卡莱尔。“还有，当然，我们不会伤害那个人类女孩的。我说过，我们不会在你们的地盘狩猎。”

詹姆斯露出难以置信的神情，愤怒地瞪了一眼劳伦，然后又和维多利亚交换了一个简短的眼神。她的眼睛依然尖锐地审视着每一张脸。

卡莱尔衡量着劳伦脸上坦率的神情，半晌才说道：“我们会给你们带路。贾斯帕，罗莎莉，艾美特？”他喊道。他们几个立刻聚拢起来，挡住了我的视线。爱丽丝立刻站到了我身旁。艾美特慢慢地往后退过来，他的眼睛始终锁定着正背向我们离开的詹姆斯的身影。

“我们走，贝拉。”爱德华的声音既低沉又阴冷。

整个过程中我都像脚下生了根似的站在那里，吓得完全无法动弹。爱德华不得不抓住我的胳膊猛地一拉，才让我的魂魄归位。爱丽丝和艾美特紧紧地站在我们身旁，掩护着我。我跌跌拌拌跟着爱德华，依然因为恐惧而眩晕着。我听不见大部队是否已经离开了。当我们用人类的速度向树林边缘走去时，爱德华的不耐烦简直可以看得见摸得着了。    

我们一走进树林，爱德华立刻把我甩到背上，一步也不停地飞奔起来。当他起跑的时候，我死死地抓牢他，别的人紧跟在他身后。我埋着头，但我的眼睛因为恐惧而睁得大大的，根本合不上眼。他们跳进黑暗得宛如幽灵出没的密林里。当爱德华全速奔跑时，他的心情总是很愉快，但现在那种情绪完全没有了，取而代之的是一种几乎要毁灭他的狂暴，这让他跑得更快了。即便他背上还背着我，别的人还是被远远地抛在了后头。

我们很快就到了越野车那里，所花的时间短得不可思议。而爱德华仅仅是在把我塞进后座上时才放慢了动作。

“给她系上安全带。”他向刚刚滑到我身旁坐下的艾美特下令道。

爱丽丝已经坐在了前座上，爱德华发动了引擎。引擎轰鸣着发动起来，我们向后急转，原地倒进了那条弯曲的道路。

爱德华在咆哮着什么，他的语速太快了，我根本听不懂，但听起来像是一连串的咒骂。

这趟颠簸的旅程变得比上次更糟，黑暗的降临只让一切显得更加阴森可怖。艾美特和爱丽丝各自监视着一侧的窗子。

我们冲进了主干道，可我们的速度却加快了。我看清了我们正在开往的方向。我们正在南走，远离福克斯的方向。

“我们要去哪里？”我问道。

没有人回答，甚至没有人看我一眼。

“该死，爱德华！你要带我去哪里？”

“我们得带你离开这里——越远越好——就是现在。”他没有回头，他的眼睛注视着路面。里程计显示着现在是一百零五英里的时速。

“掉头！你得带我回家！”我喊道。我挣扎着想要从身上这套愚蠢的辔头里挣脱出来，用力撕扯着那些皮带。

“艾美特。”爱德华厉声说道。

艾美特用他钢铁般的手掌按住了我的手。

“不！爱德华！不，你不能这样做。”

“我必须这样做，贝拉，现在，求你安静些。”

“我不！你得带我回去——查理会通知FBI的！他们会把你的家族彻底终结——卡莱尔和艾美特！他们会被迫离开，永远地藏起来。”

“冷静下来，贝拉。”他的声音很冷。“我们从前就去过那里了。”

“别对我指手画脚，你不能这样！你不能因为我而毁掉一切！”

爱丽丝第一次说话了。“爱德华，开回去。”  

他瞥了她一眼，然后加速。

“爱德华，我们得好好谈谈这件事。”

“你不明白，”他挫败地吼道。我从没听过他用那么大的声音说话，他的声音在越野车狭小的空间里回荡着，振聋发聩。现在里程计上的示数几近一百五十英里。“他是个追猎者，爱丽丝，你看见了吗？他是个追猎者！”

我感到坐在我身旁的艾美特僵住了，我仔细忖度着他对这句话的反应。这话对他们三个来说意味深长，但对我却不。我试图理解这句话，但这里没有我公开发问的余地。

“把车开回去，爱德华。”爱丽丝的语气很通情达理，但却带着一种我之前没有听到过的权威的感觉。

里程计的指针一点一点地挪回了一百二十英里。

“听我说，爱丽丝。我看见了他脑子里的想法。追猎是他的爱好，他偏执于此——而且他想要她，爱丽丝——，就是她。他今晚就会开始狩猎。”

“他不知道去哪里——”

他打断了她的话。“你觉得他在镇里追寻她的气味能花多少时间？劳伦的话还没出口，他脑子里就已经形成计划了。”

我顿时领悟过来，知道我的味道将把他引向何方。“查理！你不能把他留在那里！你不能留下他。”我竭力要挣脱安全带。

“她是对的。”爱丽丝说道。

车子稍微减慢了速度。

“让我们花一分钟时间浏览一下我们的可选项。”爱丽丝耐心地哄着。

车子慢了下来，这回更加明显，然后忽然一个急刹车，停在了路基上。我在安全带的保护下才没有飞出去，随即重重地落回座位上。

“根本不存在任何选择。”爱德华嘶声说道。

“我不会离开查理！”我疾呼道。

他完全无视我。

“我们得把她带回去。”艾美特最终说话了。

“不。”爱德华很坚决。

“他根本赢不了我们，爱德华。他甚至没有机会摸到她的半根头发。”

“他会等着的。”

艾美特笑了。“我也能等。”

“你看不见——你不明白。一旦他决定了某个猎物，他就会坚定不移地追猎到底。我们必须杀了他。”

艾美特并没有被这个想法难倒。“这也是一个选择。”

“还有那个女人。她和他是一对。如果这最终会演变成一场战役，那个首领也会和他们站在一起。”

“我们有足够的人手。”

“还有另一个选择。”爱丽丝安静地说道。

爱德华狂怒地转过头去看着她，他的声音是一种震撼的咆哮。“没——有——另——一——个——选——择！”

艾美特和我都震惊地看着他，但爱丽丝似乎丝毫不感到意外。沉默持续了很久，爱德华和爱丽丝对视了许久，想要逼得对方低下头。

我打破了沉默。“有人想听听我的计划吗？”  

“不。”爱德华咆哮道。爱丽丝瞪着他，终于被激怒了。

“听着，”我恳求道。“你带我回去。”

“不。”他打断了我的话。

我怒视着他，继续说道：“你带我回去。我告诉我爸爸我要回凤凰城的家。我会打包好行李。我们一直等到那个追猎者看到这一切为止，然后我们就跑路。他会跟着我们，留下查理一个人。那样查理就不会呼叫FBI来解决你的家人。在这之后，随你想带我去那里都行。”

他们都震惊地看着我。

“这主意不坏，真的。”艾美特的惊讶显然有些傲慢无礼。

“这会有用的——我们只要不让他父亲脱离保护就行。你知道那种事。”爱丽丝说道。

每个人都在看着爱德华。

“这太危险了——我不想让他接近她周围方圆一百码的地方。”

艾美特自信得快要爆出来了。“爱德华，他不可能从我们这里通过。”

爱丽丝思索了一分钟。“我没看见他采取进攻。他试图等到我们离开，留下她一个人的时候。”

“用不了多久他就会意识到这不会发生的。”

“我请求你，带我回家。”我试图让自己听起来坚定些。

爱德华用手指按住自己的鬓角，紧紧地闭上了双眼。

“求你了。”我用更小的声音说道。

他没有抬头。当他说话时，他的声音听起来很疲倦。

“不管那个追猎者有没有看见，你今晚就得动身。你告诉查理，你不想在福克斯多呆一分钟。什么故事管用就跟他说什么。把你手边的东西打包起来，然后回到卡车上。我不在乎他对你说什么。你有十五分钟的时间。你听见我说的话了吗？从你踏上门阶起，十五分钟。”

越野车又隆隆地发动起来，他原地急转，把我们都甩到了一旁，轮胎发出尖锐的摩擦声。里程计上的指针开始飞快地划过表盘。

“艾美特？”我问道，用强调的目光看着自己的手。

“哦，对不起。”他放开了我。

好几分钟在沉默中过去了，只有引擎的声音还在响着。然后，爱德华又开口了。

“以下是将要发生的事。当我们开到那栋房子那里时，如果追猎者不在那里，我会陪她走到门口，然后她有十五分钟的时间。”他在后视镜中注视着我。“艾美特，你守在屋子外面。爱丽丝，你守着卡车。我会一直陪她待在屋里。等她出来以后，你们两个就把越野车开回去，把一切告诉卡莱尔。”

“没门，”艾美特打断道。“我跟你是一起的。”

“想清楚了，艾美特。我不知道我要离开多长时间。”

“直到我们知道事态将发展到何种地步以前，我都会和你站在一起。”

爱德华叹了口气。“如果追猎者在那里，”他严厉地继续说道。“我们就开过去。”

“我们会赶在他前头到达那里。”爱丽丝自信地说道。

爱德华似乎接受了这个观点。不管他和爱丽丝之间有何龃龉，现在他对她都没有任何怀疑。

“我们要怎么处理这辆越野车？”她问道。

他的声音带着生硬的味道。“你把它开回家。”

“不，我不会这样做的。”她冷静地说道。

那阵莫名其妙的滔滔不绝的低咒又开始了。

“我的卡车坐不下我们所有人。”我低声说道。

爱德华没有表现出任何听到我说话的样子。

“我想你得让我一个人开车。”我更加平静地说道。

他听到了。

“贝拉，求你了，按我说的去做，就这一次。”他咬紧了牙关，挤出这句话。  

“听着，查理不是白痴。”我竭力主张道。“如果明天你也不在镇上了，他会起疑心的。”

“这毫不相干。我们会确保他的安全，这就够了。”

“那追猎者怎么办？他看见了你今晚的表现。他会认为不管你在那里，你都会和我在一起。”

艾美特看着我，再次露出几近侮辱的惊讶的神情。“爱德华，听她的。”他催促着。“我认为她是对的。”

“是的，她是对的。”爱丽丝赞同道

“我不能这样做。”爱德华的声音很冷淡。

“艾美特也得留下。”我继续说道。“他显然会好好看着爱德华。”

“什么？”艾美特转头看着我。

“如果你留下来的话，你能更好地对他的行动做出反应。”爱丽丝赞同道。

爱德华怀疑地盯着她。“你认为我应该让她一个人走？”

“当然不是，”爱丽丝说道。“贾斯帕和我会照看着她。”

“我不能这样做。”爱德华重复道，但这一次他的话语里有着一丝败北的味道。理智在他身上起作用了。

我试图循循善诱。“你在这里闲逛个一周——”我从后视镜里看见他的表情，立刻更正道。“——几天。让查理看到你没有绑架我，还有让那个詹姆斯徒劳地四处搜素。确保他完全得不到我的踪迹。然后来见我。当然，路上得绕些道，然后贾斯帕和爱丽丝就可以回家了。”

我看得出，他开始思考这件事。

“在哪里见你？”

“凤凰城。”当然。

“不行。他会听到你要去的地方。”他不耐烦地说道。

“很显然，你可以把这看成一种策略。他知道我们知道他在听。他绝对不会相信我要去的确实就是我所说的地方。”

“她是个恶魔。”艾美特轻笑起来。

“如果这不管用呢？”

“凤凰城有几百万人口。”我告诉他。

“找本电话簿不是什么难事。”

“我不会回家的。”

“哦？”他讯问道，语气里有着危险的意味。

“我的年纪足够大了，我能找到自己能待的地方。”

“爱德华，我们会和她在一起。”爱丽丝提醒他。

“你在凤凰城要做什么？”他严厉地问她。

“闭门不出。”

“我有点喜欢这件事。”毫无疑问，艾美特正在思索着怎样把詹姆斯逼进绝路。

“闭嘴，艾美特。”

“看吧，如果我们试图在她仍在周围的时候就去阻拦他，有人受伤的可能性会更大——她会受伤，或者是你，在竭力保护她时挂彩。现在，如果我们让他独自一人……”他的话尾消失在一个慢慢绽开的笑容中。我是对的。  

当我们开进镇里的时候，越野车在路上慢慢地行驶着。虽然方才我说出了那么勇敢的话，但我依然能感觉到自己胳膊上的毛发根根直立着。我在想着查理，他正独自一人待在家里。我试图让自己更勇敢些。

“贝拉。”爱德华的声音异常地温柔。爱丽丝和艾美特看着各自的窗外。“如果你让自己发生任何意外——不管是什么样的意外——我都会唯你是问（我都会跟你算总账）。你明白了吗？”

“明白。”我吞咽了一下。

他转头看着爱丽丝。

“贾斯帕能驾驭这样的状况吗？（贾斯帕能自我克制吗？）”

“给他点信任，爱德华。综合考虑各方面的因素，他已经做得非常，非常好了。”

“你能驾驭这样的状况吗？”

优雅的小巧的爱丽丝，蜷曲起她的嘴唇，作出一个狰狞的鬼脸，从喉咙里吼出一声咆哮。我吓得缩进了座位了。

爱德华冲她一笑。“不过，你的意见只能你自己知道。”他忽然喃喃低语道。  
第十六章 永别（再见）

查理正等着我。屋里所有的灯都开着。我试图想出让他放我离开的方法，但我的脑子里一片恐怖。这不会是一件令人愉快的事情。

爱德华慢慢地把车开进去，恰好停在我的卡车后方。他们三个都异常警惕，僵直地坐在座位上，聆听着树林里的每一丝声响，监视着每一处阴影，捕捉着每一缕气息，搜寻着任何不对头的迹象。引擎关掉了，我一动不动地坐着，他们继续聆听着。

“他不在这里。”爱德华紧张地说道。“我们走。”艾美特伸出手帮我解开了安全带。

“别担心，贝拉。”他用极低却愉悦的声音说道。“我们会很快把这里的事情处理好的。”

我看着艾美特，眼里盈满了泪水。我才刚刚认识他，而且，一想到今晚之后我们是否还有机会相见，我就感到深深的痛苦。我知道，这只是一种隐隐的永别的滋味。在接下来的一个小时里，我将被迫成为幸存者。这个念头让我的泪水奔涌而出。

“爱丽丝，艾美特。”爱德华的话是一个命令。他们悄无声息地潜入黑暗之中，立刻消失了。爱德华为我打开门，拉住我的手，把我拽进他的臂弯所筑起的堡垒之中。他拥着我迅速向屋子走去，眼睛始终飘忽不定地扫视着夜幕下的一切。

“十五分钟，”他压低声音警告道。

“我能做到的。”我用鼻音答道。泪水启发了我的灵感。

我停在了门廊里，用双手捧起他的脸。我深深地看着他的眼睛。

“我爱你。”我紧张地低声说道。“不管现在正发生着什么样的事，我都会一直爱着你。”

“你不会有事的，贝拉。”他说道，同样深深地看着我。

“一定要按计划行事，好吗？为了我，保护好查理。在这件事以后，他不会很喜欢我的，我希望稍后还有能有机会向他道歉。”

“进去，贝拉，我们得赶时间。”他的声音很紧迫。

“还有一件事。”我激动地低声说道。“不管今晚我再说什么，不要听！（不要往心里去！）”他侧下身来，所以我只需踮起脚尖，倾尽全力亲吻他吃惊得僵住了的唇。然后我转过身去，踹开门。  

“走开，爱德华！”我冲他嚷嚷着，跑进屋里，用力砸上门，把他依然震惊的脸关在了门外。

“贝拉？”查理已在起居室里徘徊多时了，他立刻站起身来。

“不要管我！”我泪流满面，冲他尖叫道。我的泪水不停地流淌着。我奔上楼梯冲回房里，重重撞上门，落上锁。我冲到床边，爬到地板上找到我的露营双肩包。我飞快地伸出手，在床垫和盒子之间扒拉着，抓起了那只用来存放我的私房钱的打了结的旧袜子。

查理用力地敲着我的门。

“贝拉，你没事吧？发生了什么事？”他的声音显然是吓坏了。

“我能承受。”我大喊着，我的声音嘶哑得恰到好处。

“他欺负你了？”他的语气逐渐转为愤怒。

“没有！”我的声音又升了几个八度，尖叫道。我转身朝着衣柜，爱德华已经在那里了，正沉默地把乱七八糟的衣物抱出来，然后抛给我。

“他和你分手了？”查理有些不知所措。

“没有！”我大叫道，稍微有些气喘吁吁，因为我正把所有东西都塞进双肩包里。爱德华把另一口衣橱里的东西扔给我。现在这只双肩包已经很满了。

“发生了什么事，贝拉？”查理从门外喊道，又开始砸门了。

“我甩了他！”我嚷嚷回去，努力对付着书包上的拉锁。爱德华万能的双手拨开了我的手，不费吹灰之力把它拉上了。他仔细地让我的胳膊挎上背带。（他仔细地帮我背上书包。）

“我会在卡车里等你——走！”他耳语道，把我推向门，然后消失在了窗外。

我打开门，粗鲁地推开查理挤过去，一面与沉重的书包做斗争，一面跑下楼梯。

“发生了什么事？”他紧跟在我身后，大喊道。“我还以为你喜欢他。”

他在厨房里抓住了我的手肘。他依然很困惑，但他握得很紧。

他看我转过身来看着他，我能从他脸上看出来，他一点儿也不想让我离开。我只能想出一种脱身的办法，但这会多重地伤害他。我单是想到这个办法，就开始厌恶自己了。可我没时间了，我得保护他。

我抬起头，怒视着我的父亲，新的一波泪水因为我即将要做的事从我眼中涌出。

“我确实喜欢他——这就是问题所在。我不能再这样做了！我不能在这里扎下根来！（我不能对这里有任何留恋！）我不想落得像妈妈一样，被困住这个愚蠢的乏味的小镇里！我不会犯下像她那样的错误——我甚至无法在这里再待一分钟！”

他的手无力地从我的胳膊上落下，就好像我正用电椅处死他一样。我转身离开一脸震惊和受伤的神情的他，径直向大门冲去。

“贝尔，你没有必要现在就走。现在是晚上。”他在我身后低声说道。

我没有转身。“如果我累了，我会睡在卡车里。”

“只要再等一周就行，”他依然像得了战争疲劳症似的，恳求道。“到那时候蕾妮就会回来了。”

情况完全偏离了我的计划。“什么？”  

查理继续恳切地说着，我迟疑了一下的时候，他甚至像抓住了救命稻草似的语无伦次起来。“你出去的时候，她打过电话来。佛罗里达那边的事情不太顺利，如果这周末菲尔还不能签约的话，他们就会回到亚利桑那州。响尾蛇队的助理教练说他们也许会有一个游击手的空缺。”

我摇着头，试图理清自己混乱的思绪。每一秒的流逝都会让查理的处境变得更加危险。

“我有钥匙。”我喃喃低语着，拧动了把手。他离我太紧了，正一脸茫然地，向我伸出一只手。我不能再把时间白白浪费在和他争执上了。我不得不更进一步地打击他。

“让我走（放过我），查理。”我在复述着多年以前我母亲走出这同一扇门时所说的最后一句话。我尽可能更怒气冲冲地说着，用力扯开门。“这一切根本毫无意义（这根本没用），不是吗？我真的，真的讨厌福克斯！”

我所说的残忍的话奏效了——当我冲进夜幕里时，查理大受打击，僵在了门阶上。我异常地害怕着空荡荡的前院。我没命地朝卡车跑着，幻想着有一个黑色的阴影正尾随着我。我把包扔到拖斗里，猛地扯开门。钥匙已经在点火器里待命了。

“我明天再给你打电话！”我大喊道，恨不得现在就把所有的事情给他解释清楚。我知道，我也许再也没有机会跟他解释了。我加大油门，把车开走了。

爱德华伸出手按住我的手。

“把车停在路边。”当查理和房子一同消失在车后时，他说道。

“我能开。”我说着，眼泪在我的脸颊上肆意地流淌着。

他长长的胳膊出人意料地抱住我的腰，他的脚把我的脚从油门上挤到一边去。他把我从他的膝上抱过去，解开我紧握着方向盘的双手。忽然间，他已经坐到了驾驶员的位置上。卡车甚至没有偏离原来的方向哪怕一英寸的距离。

“你找不到我家的房子。”他解释到。

灯光忽然从我们车后照上来。我看着车后窗，眼睛因为惊恐而睁得大大的。

“那只是爱丽丝。”他向我保证道。他又牵住了我的手。

我的脑海里全是查理站在车道上的情景。“追猎者呢？”

“他听到了你的演出的最后部分。”爱德华冷酷地说道。

“查理呢？”我恐惧地问道。

“追猎者正跟着我们。现在他正紧随在我们身后跑着。”

我的身子开始发冷。

“我们跑得过他吗？”

“不能。”但在他说话的时候，他加速了。卡车的引擎哀号着以示伉仪。

感觉上，我的计划忽然变得得不那么尽善尽美了。

我向后看着，盯着爱丽丝的车头灯。这时，卡车震颤了一下，一个黑影扒在了窗外。

我令人毛骨悚然的尖叫只持续了不到一秒，爱德华的手便牢牢掩住了我的口。

“那是艾美特！”

他放开我的嘴巴，用胳膊抱紧我的腰。

“没事的，贝拉。”他保证道。“你会很安全的。”

我们飞快地开过安静的小镇，开上了往北的高速路。

“我没注意到你还是那么讨厌小镇里的生活。”他没话找话地说道。我知道他在试图分散我的注意力。“你看上去适应得相当好——尤其是最近这一阵。也许我应该好好表扬一下自己，我让你的生活变得更有趣些了。”  

“我的表现并不好。（我太过分了）”我更正道，低着头看着自己的膝盖，无视他的努力转移话题。“这是我妈妈离开他时说过的话。你可以这样说，我是在暗箭伤人。”

“别担心。他会原谅你的。”他微笑了一下，但笑意并没有传到他的眼睛里。

我失望地看着他，他看见里我眼里毫不掩饰的恐惧。

“贝拉，一切都会顺利的。”

“可我不能和你在一起的时候，不能算是事事顺利。”我低声说道。

“再过几天，我们就能在一起了。”他说着，用胳膊紧紧地抱住我。“别忘了，这是你自己想出来的办法。”

“这是最好的办法——当然，确实是我自己想出来的。”

他报以一笑，但那笑容却是那么的凄凉，而且立刻就消失了。

“为什么会发生这样的事？”我问道，声音凄凉。“为什么是我？”

他用阴暗的目光注视着前方的路面。“都是我的错——我真是个白痴，居然让你爆露在这样的危险之下。”他话语里显然有着压抑不住的怒气。
“我不是这个意思，”我固执地说着。“大不了，我就在这里。不应该把他们两个牵扯进来的。为什么詹姆斯会决定杀死一个刚刚见面的人呢。到处都是人类，为什么是我？”

他踌躇着，思索了许久，才说道。

“今天晚上，我曾经好好地研读过他的心思。”他用低沉的声音说道。“我不敢肯定，一旦他看见你之后，我还能有什么办法来阻止这件事（他想杀你这件事）。这件事有一部分原因在你身上。”他的声音有些扭曲。“如果你的味道不是那么骇人的甜美，他也许就不会费事想要杀你了。但当我保护你的时候……好吧，这让情况变得更糟了。虽然不管怎么说，这一点对他的行为的辩护作用几近于无，但他原来确实不是那么执着的家伙。他认为自己是个地地道道的捕猎者。追踪就是他存在的意义，而除了挑战他对生活别无所求。忽然间，我们向他献上了一个精彩绝伦的挑战——一个庞大的家族，一群强有力的战士下定决心要保护那个脆弱的一分子。你根本想象不到他现在有多么的心满意足。这是他最喜欢的游戏，而我们的参与促成了他曾经历过的最令人兴奋的游戏。”他的语气里充满了浓浓的厌恶。

他停顿了片刻。

“但是，如果那时我袖手旁观的话，他也许会当场杀了你的。”他说着，话语里是那么绝望的挫败感。

“我还以为……对别人来说我闻起来……并没有像你闻到的那样好。”我迟疑地说道。

“确实不是。但这并不意味着你对他们来说就不是个诱或。如果你曾那样吸引过那个追猎者——或者别的一些追猎者——就像你曾对我施加的魔力一样，那意味着我们当场就会打起来了。”

我不寒而栗。

“我不认为，现在除了杀死他，还能有别的什么办法。”他喃喃低语着。“卡莱尔不喜欢这样。”

我能听到轮胎开过桥面的声音，但在一片黑暗之中我根本看不见河流。我知道我们快到了。我得现在就问他。

“你杀死过吸血鬼吗？”

他用复杂莫测的眼神瞪着我，声音忽然变得严厉起来。“唯一能够确实杀死一个吸血鬼的办法，就是把他撕成碎片，然后一片片地全部烧掉。”

“另外两个人会和他一起作战吗？”

“那个女人会。但我不能肯定劳伦的想法。他们之间并没有多深的渊源——他只是出于方便才和他们在一起的。他对詹姆斯在草地上的表现深为窘迫……”

“可詹姆斯和那个女人——他们会试图杀死你吗？”我问道，声音生硬。

“贝拉，不要浪费你的时间为我担心。你唯一需要担心的是保证你自己的安全还有——千万，千万——不要鲁莽行事。”

“他还在跟着吗？”

“是的。但他不会袭击我们家。至少今晚不会。”

他掉转车头，把车开进那条看不见的车道。爱丽丝紧跟在后面。

我们径直开进了屋子。屋里灯火通明，但还是不能削弱那片蠢蠢欲动的密林里的黑暗。卡车还没停住，艾美特已经替我把门打开了。他把我从座位上拉出来，把我像一个足球似的团在他宽广的胸前，然后带着我冲进门。

我们闯进了那间巨大的白色的屋子，爱德华和爱丽丝在我们两旁守护着。他们都在那里。一听到我们进来的声音，他们立刻站了起来。劳伦站在他们之中。我能听到艾美特从喉咙深处发出的隆隆的低吼声，他把我放在爱德华身旁。

“他在追踪我们。”爱德华宣布道，眼睛恶狠狠地盯着劳伦。

劳伦一脸沮丧。“我就怕这件事。”

爱丽丝舞到贾斯帕身旁，在他耳畔低语着，她的嘴唇飞快地颤抖着，低声说着话。他们一起飞奔上楼。罗莎莉看着他们，迅速跑到了艾美特身侧。她美丽的眼睛里写满了紧张——但当她不情愿地瞄向我的脸时——却写满了狂怒。

“他想做什么？”卡莱尔用冷漠的语气问劳伦。

“我很抱歉。”他答道。“恐怕，在你的儿子维护着她的时候，他就已经开始行动了。”

“你能阻止他吗？”

劳伦摇了摇头。“一旦詹姆斯开始动手，就没有任何事物能阻止他。”

“我们会阻止他的，”艾美特保证道。他的意思再明确不过了。

“你不可能打倒他的。我活了三百年，却从没见过像他这样的家伙。他是个全然的致命杀手。所以我才加入了他的巫会。”

当然，他的巫会，我想着。空地上的领导秀只不过，是场作秀。

劳伦摇着头。他困惑地瞥了我一眼，然后转过身去向着卡莱尔。“你确定这值得吗？”

爱德华愤怒的咆哮充斥着整个房间。劳伦畏缩地退了一步。

卡莱尔严肃地看着劳伦。“恐怕你得做出选择了。”

劳伦明白了。他仔细地思索了片刻。他的眼睛看着每一张面孔，最终扫视着这张明亮的房间。

“我对你们在这里所开创的生活很好奇。可我不想卷进这件事里。我跟你们毫无过节，但我也不想和詹姆斯作对。我想我会去北方——去加入德纳里峰的那个巫会。”他踌躇着。“不要低估詹姆斯。他头脑很灵光，有着无与伦比的判断力。他在人类时间里也是如鱼得水，游刃有余，就像你一样。而且他不会像你那样一头扎进……我很抱歉，事情居然发展到了这样不可挽回的地步。真的，很抱歉。”他垂下了头，但我看到他又困惑地瞥了我一眼。

“一路顺风。”查理正式地回答道。

劳伦又长长地环顾了四周一圈，然后快步走出门去。

沉默只持续了不到一秒。

“还有多近？”卡莱尔看向爱德华。

艾思梅已经行动了起来，她的手按上墙上的一个隐藏着的按钮，然后，只听一声轻响，巨大的金属百叶窗开始降下来封闭住了玻璃墙。我张大了嘴。  

“在河那边，离这里大约三英里的地方。他正在兜着圈子跟那个女人碰头。”

“计划是什么样的？”

“我们会把他引走，然后贾斯帕和爱丽丝带着她往南走。”

“然后呢？”

爱德华的语气如同下达死刑的命令。“一等到贝拉脱身，我们就猎杀他。”

“我猜现在没有别的选择了。”卡莱尔冷着脸赞同道。

爱德华转向罗莎莉。

“带她上楼，跟她交换衣服。”爱德华命令道。她铁青着脸，用难以置信的神情看着他。

“为什么是我？”她咬着牙嘶声说道。“她对我来说算什么？纯粹是一个威胁——一个你所选择的，殃及我们所有人的危险分子。”

我因为她话语里的怨恨而畏缩了一下。

“罗斯……”艾美特喃喃低语着，把一只手放在了她肩上。她却甩开了他的手。

但我只是当心地看着爱德华，我知道他的脾气，我担心着他的反应。

他让我大吃一惊。他看向别处，就好像她根本没说话一样，就像是她根本不存在一样。

“艾思梅？”他冷静地问道。

“当然没问题。”艾思梅喃喃低语道。

只是心跳半拍的瞬间，艾思梅就已经站到了我身旁。她轻轻松松地把我抱在怀里，跃上了楼梯，我甚至来不及因为震惊而大口大口地喘气。

“我们要做什么？”我喘息着说道，她把我带到二楼走廊深处的一间黑暗的屋子里。

“试着把气味混淆。这应付不了多久，但也许能帮你脱身。”我能听到她的衣服落到地上的声音。

“我不认为我能穿上……”我踌躇着，但她突然伸出手把我的恤衫从我头上拽下来。我飞快地把我的牛仔裤脱掉。她递给我一件衣服，感觉像是一件恤衫。我挣扎着把胳膊从衣服上正确的洞里伸出来。我才穿好，她又把她的休闲裤递给了我。我拉起裤子，却没法把脚伸出来。这裤子太长了。她灵巧地把裤筒卷了几下，这样我就能站起来了。不知何时，她已经穿上了我的衣服。她把我拉回楼梯口，爱丽丝正在那里等着，一只手上拿着一只小巧的皮包。她们一人抓住我一只胳膊，半提着我跃下了楼梯。

很显然，在我们不在的时候，楼下已经把事情都安排好了。爱德华和艾美特正准备离开，艾美特肩上背着一个看上去很沉的背包。卡莱尔正把某个小物件递给艾思梅。他转过身，递给了爱丽丝一模一样的东西——那是一只小巧的银色手机。

“艾思梅和罗莎莉会把你的卡车开走，贝拉。”他走过我身旁时说道。我点了点头，小心地瞥了一眼罗莎莉。她正用忿恨的神情瞪着卡莱尔。

“爱丽丝，贾斯帕——你们开那辆黑色的梅赛德斯。你们需要在黑暗的掩护下向南走。”

他们都点了点头。

“我们开那辆越野车。”

我惊讶地发现卡莱尔打算和爱德华一起走。我忽然感觉到了一阵锥心的恐惧，我意识到了，他们已经组成了狩猎队。

“爱丽丝，”卡莱尔问道，“他们会咬饵吗？

每个人都看着爱丽丝，她闭上眼睛，变得异常僵硬。

她终于睁开了眼睛。“他会追踪你。那个女人会跟着卡车。我们得赶在他们上钩以后离开。”她的语气很肯定。  
“我们走。”卡莱尔开始向厨房走去。

爱德华却立刻出现在了我身旁。他用钢铁般的胳膊把我抱住，紧紧地把我压向他的胸膛。他似乎完全没有意识到他的家人都在看着。他把我的脸拉向他的脸，把我从地板上抱起来。在那最短暂的一秒里，他冰冷而坚硬的唇抵住了我的唇。然后，一切都结束了。他把我放下来，依然捧着我的脸，他明亮的眸子灼烧着我的眼。

当他转身离开的时候，他的眼睛黯淡下来，变得异常地冷酷。

然后，他们都走了。

我们站在原地，别人都扭头不看我，因为泪水正无声地从我脸上流淌下来。

沉默依然继续着，这时，艾思梅手里的电话震动起来。她立刻把它贴在了耳朵上。

“现在。”她说道。罗莎莉昂首阔步地朝前门走去，看也不看我的方向。但在她走过我身旁的时候，艾思梅轻轻抚摩了我的脸庞。

“保重。（平安）”当她们冲出大门的时候，她的低语在她们身后回荡着。我听见我的卡车发动起来，发出雷鸣般的声音，然后那声音消失在了远处。

贾斯帕和爱丽丝都在等着。但貌似在爱丽丝的手机发出蜂鸣声前，她就已经把它贴在了耳朵上。

“爱德华说那个女人已经跟上了艾思梅。我去开车。”她消失在爱德华所去的方向的阴影里。

贾斯帕和我面面相觑。他站到了走廊的尽头，离我远远的……提防着。

“你知道，你错了”。他安静地说着。

“什么？”我喘息着说道。

“我能感觉到你现在的感觉——你值得我们做这些。”

“我不值得。”我喃喃低语着。“如果他们发生了什么意外，这一切将会是徒劳。”

“你错了。”他重复着，友好地冲我笑着。

我什么也没听见，但随后爱丽丝就从前门走了进来，伸着胳膊向我走过来。

“可以吗？”她问道。

“你是第一个问我意见的人。”我挖苦地笑着。

她用纤细的胳膊把我抱起来，简直和艾美特一样轻松。她用保护的姿势掩护着我，然后我们冲出了门，让身后的灯光亮着。

18. THE HUNT

They emerged one by one from the forest edge, ranging a dozen meters
apart. The first male into the clearing fell back immediately, allowing
the other male to take the front, orienting himself around the tall,
dark-haired man in a manner that clearly displayed who led the pack. The
third was a woman; from this distance, all I could see of her was that
her hair was a startling shade of red.

They closed ranks before they continued cautiously toward Edward's

family, exhibiting the natural respect of a troop of predators as it
encounters a larger, unfamiliar group of its own kind.

As they approached, I could see how different they were from the Cullens.
Their walk was catlike, a gait that seemed constantly on the edge of
shifting into a crouch. They dressed in the ordinary gear of backpackers:
jeans and casual button-down shirts in heavy, weatherproof fabrics. The
clothes were frayed, though, with wear, and they were barefoot. Both men
had cropped hair, but the woman's brilliant orange hair was filled with
leaves and debris from the woods.

Their sharp eyes carefully took in the more polished, urbane stance of
Carlisle, who, flanked by Emmett and Jasper, stepped guardedly forward to
meet them. Without any seeming communication between them, they each
straightened into a more casual, erect bearing.

The man in front was easily the most beautiful, his skin olive-toned
beneath the typical pallor, his hair a glossy black. He was of a medium
build, hard-muscled, of course, but nothing next to Emmett's brawn. He
smiled an easy smile, exposing a flash of gleaming white teeth.

The woman was wilder, her eyes shifting restlessly between the men facing
her, and the loose grouping around me, her chaotic hair quivering in the
slight breeze. Her posture was distinctly feline. The second male hovered
unobtrusively behind them, slighter than the leader, his light brown hair
and regular features both nondescript. His eyes, though completely still,
somehow seemed the most vigilant.

Their eyes were different, too. Not the gold or black I had come to
expect, but a deep burgundy color that was disturbing and sinister.

The dark-haired man, still smiling, stepped toward Carlisle.

"We thought we heard a game," he said in a relaxed voice with the
slightest of French accents. "I'm Laurent, these are Victoria and James."
He gestured to the vampires beside him.

"I'm Carlisle. This is my family, Emmett and Jasper, Rosalie, Esme and
Alice, Edward and Bella." He pointed us out in groups, deliberately not
calling attention to individuals. I felt a shock when he said my name.

"Do you have room for a few more players?" Laurent asked sociably.

Carlisle matched Laurent's friendly tone. "Actually, we were just
finishing up. But we'd certainly be interested another time. Are you
planning to stay in the area for long?"

"We're headed north, in fact, but we were curious to see who was in the
neighborhood. We haven't run into any company in a long time."

"No, this region is usually empty except for us and the occasional
visitor, like yourselves."

The tense atmosphere had slowly subsided into a casual conversation; I
guessed that Jasper was using his peculiar gift to control the situation.

"What's your hunting range?" Laurent casually inquired.

Carlisle ignored the assumption behind the inquiry. "The Olympic Range
here, up and down the Coast Ranges on occasion. We keep a permanent
residence nearby. There's another permanent settlement like ours up near
Denali."

Laurent rocked back on his heels slightly.

"Permanent? How do you manage that?" There was honest curiosity in his
voice.

"Why don't you come back to our home with us and we can talk
comfortably?" Carlisle invited. "It's a rather long story."

James and Victoria exchanged a surprised look at the mention of the word

"home," but Laurent controlled his expression better.

"That sounds very interesting, and welcome." His smile was genial. "We've
been on the hunt all the way down from Ontario, and we haven't had the
chance to clean up in a while." His eyes moved appreciatively over
Carlisle's refined appearance.

"Please don't take offense, but we'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from
hunting in this immediate area. We have to stay inconspicuous, you
understand," Carlisle explained.

"Of course." Laurent nodded. "We certainly won't encroach on your
territory. We just ate outside of Seattle, anyway," he laughed. A shiver
ran up my spine.

"We'll show you the way if you'd like to run with us — Emmett and Alice,
you can go with Edward and Bella to get the Jeep," he casually added.

Three things seemed to happen simultaneously while Carlisle was speaking.
My hair ruffled with the light breeze, Edward stiffened, and the second
male, James, suddenly whipped his head around, scrutinizing me, his
nostrils flaring.

A swift rigidity fell on all of them as James lurched one step forward
into a crouch. Edward bared his teeth, crouching in defense, a feral
snarl ripping from his throat.

It was nothing like the playful sounds I'd heard from him this morning;
it was the single most menacing thing I had ever heard, and chills ran
from the crown of my head to the back of my heels.

"What's this?" Laurent exclaimed in open surprise. Neither James nor
Edward relaxed their aggressive poses. James feinted slightly to the
side, and Edward shifted in response.

"She's with us." Carlisle's firm rebuff was directed toward James.
Laurent seemed to catch my scent less powerfully than James, but
awareness now dawned on his face.

"You brought a snack?" he asked, his expression incredulous as he took an
involuntary step forward.

Edward snarled even more ferociously, harshly, his lip curling high above
his glistening, bared teeth. Laurent stepped back again.

"I said she's with us," Carlisle corrected in a hard voice.

"But she's human," Laurent protested. The words were not at all
aggressive, merely astounded.

"Yes." Emmett was very much in evidence at Carlisle's side, his eyes on
James. James slowly straightened out of his crouch, but his eyes never
left me, his nostrils still wide. Edward stayed tensed like a lion in
front of me.

When Laurent spoke, his tone was soothing — trying to defuse the sudden
hostility. "It appears we have a lot to learn about each other."

"Indeed." Carlisle's voice was still cool.

"But we'd like to accept your invitation." His eyes flicked toward me and
back to Carlisle. "And, of course, we will not harm the human girl. We
won't hunt in your range, as I said."

James glanced in disbelief and aggravation at Laurent and exchanged
another brief look with Victoria, whose eyes still flickered edgily from
face to face.

Carlisle measured Laurent's open expression for a moment before he spoke.
"We'll show you the way. Jasper, Rosalie, Esme?" he called. They gathered
together, blocking me from view as they converged. Alice was instantly at
my side, and Emmett fell back slowly, his eyes locked on James as he

backed toward us.

"Let's go, Bella." Edward's voice was low and bleak.

This whole time I'd been rooted in place, terrified into absolute
immobility. Edward had to grip my elbow and pull sharply to break my
trance. Alice and Emmett were close behind us, hiding me. I stumbled
alongside Edward, still stunned with fear. I couldn't hear if the main
group had left yet. Edward's impatience was almost tangible as we moved
at human speed to the forest edge.

Once we were into the trees, Edward slung me over his back without
breaking stride. I gripped as tightly as possible as he took off, the
others close on his heels. I kept my head down, but my eyes, wide with
fright, wouldn't close. They plunged through the now-black forest like
wraiths. The sense of exhilaration that usually seemed to possess Edward
as he ran was completely absent, replaced by a fury that consumed him and
drove him still faster. Even with me on his back, the others trailed
behind.

We reached the Jeep in an impossibly short time, and Edward barely slowed
as he flung me in the backseat.

"Strap her in," he ordered Emmett, who slid in beside me.

Alice was already in the front seat, and Edward was starting the engine.
It roared to life and we swerved backward, spinning around to face the
winding road.

Edward was growling something too fast for me to understand, but it
sounded a lot like a string of profanities.

The jolting trip was much worse this time, and the darkness only made it
more frightening. Emmett and Alice both glared out the side windows.

We hit the main road, and though our speed increased, I could see much
better where we were going. And we were headed south, away from Forks.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

No one answered. No one even looked at me.

"Dammit, Edward! Where are you taking me?"

"We have to get you away from here — far away — now." He didn't look
back, his eyes on the road. The speedometer read a hundred and five miles
an hour.

"Turn around! You have to take me home!" I shouted. I struggled with the
stupid harness, tearing at the straps.

"Emmett," Edward said grimly.

And Emmett secured my hands in his steely grasp.

"No! Edward! No, you can't do this."

"I have to, Bella, now please be quiet."

"I won't! You have to take me back — Charlie will call the FBI! They'll
be all over your family — Carlisle and Esme! They'll have to leave, to
hide forever!"

"Calm down, Bella." His voice was cold. "We've been there before."

"Not over me, you don't! You're not ruining everything over me!" I
struggled violently, with total futility.

Alice spoke for the first time. "Edward, pull over."

He flashed her a hard look, and then sped up.

"Edward, let's just talk this through."

"You don't understand," he roared in frustration. I'd never heard his
voice so loud; it was deafening in the confines of the Jeep. The
speedometer neared one hundred and fifteen. "He's a tracker, Alice, did
you see that? He's a tracker!"

I felt Emmett stiffen next to me, and I wondered at his reaction to the
word. It meant something more to the three of them than it did to me; I
wanted to understand, but there was no opening for me to ask.

"Pull over, Edward." Alice's tone was reasonable, but there was a ring of
authority in it I'd never heard before.

The speedometer inched passed one-twenty.

"Do it, Edward."

"Listen to me, Alice. I saw his mind. Tracking is his passion, his
obsession — and he wants her, Alice — her, specifically. He begins the
hunt tonight."

"He doesn't know where —"

He interrupted her. "How long do you think it will take him to cross her
scent in town? His plan was already set before the words were out of
Laurent's mouth."

I gasped, knowing where my scent would lead. "Charlie! You can't leave
him there! You can't leave him!" I thrashed against the harness.

"She's right," Alice said.

The car slowed slightly.

"Let's just look at our options for a minute," Alice coaxed.

The car slowed again, more noticeably, and then suddenly we screeched to
a stop on the shoulder of the highway. I flew against the harness, and
then slammed back into the seat.

"There are no options," Edward hissed.

"I'm not leaving Charlie!" I yelled.

He ignored me completely.

"We have to take her back," Emmett finally spoke.

"No." Edward was absolute.

"He's no match for us, Edward. He won't be able to touch her."

"He'll wait."

Emmett smiled. "I can wait, too."

"You didn't see — you don't understand. Once he commits to a hunt, he's
unshakable. We'd have to kill him."

Emmett didn't seem upset by the idea. "That's an option."

"And the female. She's with him. If it turns into a fight, the leader
will go with them, too."

"There are enough of us."

"There's another option," Alice said quietly.

Edward turned on her in fury, his voice a blistering snarl. "There — is —
no — other — option!"

Emmett and I both stared at him in shock, but Alice seemed unsurprised.
The silence lasted for a long minute as Edward and Alice stared each
other down.

I broke it. "Does anyone want to hear my plan?"

"No," Edward growled. Alice glared at him, finally provoked.

"Listen," I pleaded. "You take me back."

"No," he interrupted.

I glared at him and continued. "You take me back. I tell my dad I want to
go home to Phoenix. I pack my bags. We wait till this tracker is
watching, and then we run. He'll follow us and leave Charlie alone.
Charlie won't call the FBI on your family. Then you can take me any
damned place you want."

They stared at me, stunned.

"It's not a bad idea, really." Emmett's surprise was definitely an insult.

"It might work — and we simply can't leave her father unprotected. You
know that," Alice said.

Everyone looked at Edward.

"It's too dangerous — I don't want him within a hundred miles of her."

Emmett was supremely confident. "Edward, he's not getting through us."

Alice thought for a minute. "I don't see him attacking. He'll try to wait
for us to leave her alone."

"It won't take long for him to realize that's not going to happen."

"I demand that you take me home." I tried to sound firm.

Edward pressed his fingers to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Please," I said in a much smaller voice.

He didn't look up. When he spoke, his voice sounded worn.

"You're leaving tonight, whether the tracker sees or not. You tell
Charlie that you can't stand another minute in Forks. Tell him whatever
story works. Pack the first things your hands touch, and then get in your
truck. I don't care what he says to you. You have fifteen minutes. Do you
hear me? Fifteen minutes from the time you cross the doorstep."

The Jeep rumbled to life, and he spun us around, the tires squealing. The
needle on the speedometer started to race up the dial.

"Emmett?" I asked, looking pointedly at my hands.

"Oh, sorry." He let me loose.

A few minutes passed in silence, other than the roar of the engine. Then
Edward spoke again.

"This is how it's going to happen. When we get to the house, if the
tracker is not there, I will walk her to the door. Then she has fifteen
minutes." He glared at me in the rearview mirror. "Emmett, you take the
outside of the house. Alice, you get the truck. I'll be inside as long as
she is. After she's out, you two can take the Jeep home and tell
Carlisle."

"No way," Emmett broke in. "I'm with you."

"Think it through, Emmett. I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"Until we know how far this is going to go, I'm with you."

Edward sighed. "If the tracker is there," he continued grimly, "we keep
driving."

"We're going to make it there before him," Alice said confidently.

Edward seemed to accept that. Whatever his problem with Alice was, he
didn't doubt her now.

"What are we going to do with the Jeep?" she asked.

His voice had a hard edge. "You're driving it home."

"No, I'm not," she said calmly.

The unintelligible stream of profanities started again.

"We can't all fit in my truck," I whispered.

Edward didn't appear to hear me.

"I think you should let me go alone," I said even more quietly.

He heard that.

"Bella, please just do this my way, just this once," he said between
clenched teeth.

"Listen, Charlie's not an imbecile," I protested. "If you're not in town
tomorrow, he's going to get suspicious."

"That's irrelevant. We'll make sure he's safe, and that's all that
matters."

"Then what about this tracker? He saw the way you acted tonight. He's
going to think you're with me, wherever you are."

Emmett looked at me, insultingly surprised again. "Edward, listen to
her," he urged. "I think she's right."

"Yes, she is," Alice agreed.

"I can't do that." Edward's voice was icy.

"Emmett should stay, too," I continued. "He definitely got an eyeful of
Emmett."

"What?" Emmett turned on me.

"You'll get a better crack at him if you stay," Alice agreed.

Edward stared at her incredulously. "You think I should let her go alone?"

"Of course not," Alice said. "Jasper and I will take her."

"I can't do that," Edward repeated, but this time there was a trace of
defeat in his voice. The logic was working on him.

I tried to be persuasive. "Hang out here for a week —" I saw his
expression in the mirror and amended "— a few days. Let Charlie see you
haven't kidnapped me, and lead this James on a wild-goose chase. Make
sure he's completely off my trail. Then come and meet me. Take a
roundabout route, of course, and then Jasper and Alice can go home."

I could see him beginning to consider it.

"Meet you where?"

"Phoenix." Of course.

"No. He'll hear that's where you're going," he said impatiently.

"And you'll make it look like that's a ruse, obviously. He'll know that
we'll know that he's listening. He'll never believe I'm actually going
where I say I am going."

"She's diabolical," Emmett chuckled.

"And if that doesn't work?"

"There are several million people in Phoenix," I informed him.

"It's not that hard to find a phone book."

"I won't go home."

"Oh?" he inquired, a dangerous note in his voice.

"I'm quite old enough to get my own place."

"Edward, we'll be with her," Alice reminded him.

"What are you going to do in Phoenix?" he asked her scathingly.

"Stay indoors."

"I kind of like it." Emmett was thinking about cornering James, no doubt.

"Shut up, Emmett."

"Look, if we try to take him down while she's still around, there's a
much better chance that someone will get hurt — she'll get hurt, or you
will, trying to protect her. Now, if we get him alone…" He trailed off
with a slow smile. I was right.

The Jeep was crawling slowly along now as we drove into town. Despite my
brave talk, I could feel the hairs on my arms standing up. I thought
about Charlie, alone in the house, and tried to be courageous.

"Bella." Edward's voice was very soft. Alice and Emmett looked out their
windows. "If you let anything happen to yourself— anything at all — I'm
holding you personally responsible. Do you understand that?"

"Yes," I gulped.

He turned to Alice.

"Can Jasper handle this?"

"Give him some credit, Edward. He's been doing very, very well, all
things considered."

"Can you handle this?" he asked.

And graceful little Alice pulled back her lips in a horrific grimace and
let loose with a guttural snarl that had me cowering against the seat in
terror.

Edward smiled at her. "But keep your opinions to yourself," he muttered
suddenly.

19. GOODBYES




Charlie was waiting up for me. All the house lights were on. My mind was
blank as I tried to think of a way to make him let me go. This wasn't
going to be pleasant.

Edward pulled up slowly, staying well back from my truck. All three of
them were acutely alert, ramrod straight in their seats, listening to
every sound of the wood, looking through every shadow, catching every
scent, searching for something out of place. The engine cut off, and I
sat, motionless, as they continued to listen.

"He's not here," Edward said tensely. "Let's go." Emmett reached over to
help me get out of the harness.

"Don't worry, Bella," he said in a low but cheerful voice, "we'll take
care of things here quickly."

I felt moisture filling up my eyes as I looked at Emmett. I barely knew
him, and yet, somehow, not knowing when I would see him again after
tonight was anguishing. I knew this was just a faint taste of the
goodbyes I would have to survive in the next hour, and the thought made
the tears begin to spill.

"Alice, Emmett." Edward's voice was a command. They slithered soundlessly
into the darkness, instantly disappearing. Edward opened my door and took
my hand, then drew me into the protecting enclosure of his arm. He walked
me swiftly toward the house, eyes always roving through the night.

"Fifteen minutes," he warned under his breath.

"I can do this." I sniffled. My tears had given me an inspiration.

I stopped on the porch and took hold of his face in my hands. I looked
fiercely into his eyes.

"I love you," I said in a low, intense voice. "I will always love you, no
matter what happens now."

"Nothing is going to happen to you, Bella," he said just as fiercely.

"Just follow the plan, okay? Keep Charlie safe for me. He's not going to
like me very much after this, and I want to have the chance to apologize
later."

"Get inside, Bella. We have to hurry." His voice was urgent.

"One more thing," I whispered passionately. "Don't listen to another word
I say tonight!" He was leaning in, and so all I had to do was stretch up
on my toes to kiss his surprised, frozen lips with as much force as I was
capable of. Then I turned and kicked the door open.

"Go away, Edward!" I yelled at him, running inside and slamming the door
shut in his still-shocked face.

"Bella?" Charlie had been hovering in the living room, and he was already
on his feet.

"Leave me alone!" I screamed at him through my tears, which were flowing
relentlessly now. I ran up the stairs to my room, throwing the door shut
and locking it. I ran to my bed, flinging myself on the floor to retrieve
my duffel bag. I reached swiftly between the mattress and box spring to
grab the knotted old sock that contained my secret cash hoard.

Charlie was pounding on my door.

"Bella, are you okay? What's going on?" His voice was frightened.

"I'm going borne," I shouted, my voice breaking in the perfect spot.

"Did he hurt you?" His tone edged toward anger.

"No!" I shrieked a few octaves higher. I turned to my dresser, and Edward
was already there, silently yanking out armfuls of random clothes, which
he proceeded to throw to me.

"Did he break up with you?" Charlie was perplexed.

"No!" I yelled, slightly more breathless as I shoved everything into the
bag. Edward threw another drawer's contents at me. The bag was pretty
much full now.

"What happened, Bella?" Charlie shouted through the door, pounding again.

"I broke up with him!" I shouted back, jerking on the zipper of my bag.
Edward's capable hands pushed mine away and zipped it smoothly. He put
the strap carefully over my arm.

"I'll be in the truck — go!" he whispered, and pushed me toward the door.
He vanished out the window.

I unlocked the door and pushed past Charlie roughly, struggling with my
heavy bag as I ran down the stairs.

"What happened?" he yelled. He was right behind me. "I thought you liked
him."

He caught my elbow in the kitchen. Though he was still bewildered, his
grip was firm.

He spun me around to look at him, and I could see in his face that he had
no intention of letting me leave. I could think of only one way to
escape, and it involved hurting him so much that I hated myself for even
considering it. But I had no time, and I had to keep him safe.

I glared up at my father, fresh tears in my eyes for what I was about to
do.

"I do like him — that's the problem. I can't do this anymore! I can't put
down any more roots here! I don't want to end up trapped in this stupid,
boring town like Mom! I'm not going to make the same dumb mistake she
did. I hate it — I can't stay here another minute!"

His hand dropped from my arm like I'd electrocuted him. I turned away
from his shocked, wounded face and headed for the door.

"Bells, you can't leave now. It's nighttime," he whispered behind me.

I didn't turn around. "I'll sleep in the truck if I get tired."

"Just wait another week," he pled, still shell-shocked. "Renée will be
back by then."

This completely derailed me. "What?"

Charlie continued eagerly, almost babbling with relief as I hesitated.
"She called while you were out. Things aren't going so well in Florida,
and if Phil doesn't get signed by the end of the week, they're going back
to Arizona. The assistant coach of the Sidewinders said they might have a
spot for another shortstop."

I shook my head, trying to reassemble my now-confused thoughts. Every
passing second put Charlie in more danger.

"I have a key," I muttered, turning the knob. He was too close, one hand
extended toward me, his face dazed. I couldn't lose any more time arguing
with him. I was going to have to hurt him further.

"Just let me go, Charlie." I repeated my mother's last words as she'd
walked out this same door so many years ago. I said them as angrily as I
could manage, and I threw the door open. "It didn't work out, okay? I
really, really hate Forks!"

My cruel words did their job — Charlie stayed frozen on the doorstep,
stunned, while I ran into the night. I was hideously frightened of the
empty yard. I ran wildly for the truck, visualizing a dark shadow behind
me. I threw my bag in the bed and wrenched the door open. The key was
waiting in the ignition.

"I'll call you tomorrow!" I yelled, wishing more than anything that I

could explain everything to him right then, knowing I would never be able
to. I gunned the engine and peeled out.

Edward reached for my hand.

"Pull over," he said as the house, and Charlie, disappeared behind us.

"I can drive," I said through the tears pouring down my cheeks.

His long hands unexpectedly gripped my waist, and his foot pushed mine
off the gas pedal. He pulled me across his lap, wrenching my hands free
of the wheel, and suddenly he was in the driver's seat. The truck didn't
swerve an inch.

"You wouldn't be able to find the house," he explained.

Lights flared suddenly behind us. I stared out the back window, eyes wide
with horror.

"It's just Alice," he reassured me. He took my hand again.

My mind was filled with the image of Charlie in the doorway. "The
tracker?"

"He heard the end of your performance," Edward said grimly.

"Charlie?" I asked in dread.

"The tracker followed us. He's running behind us now."

My body went cold.

"Can we outrun him?"

"No." But he sped up as he spoke. The truck's engine whined in protest.

My plan suddenly didn't feel so brilliant anymore.

I was staring back at Alice's headlights when the truck shuddered and a
dark shadow sprung up outside the window.

My bloodcurdling scream lasted a fraction of a second before Edward's
hand clamped down on my mouth.

"It's Emmett!"

He released my mouth, and wound his arm around my waist.

"It's okay, Bella," he promised. "You're going to be safe."

We raced through the quiet town toward the north highway.

"I didn't realize you were still so bored with small-town life," he said
conversationally, and I knew he was trying to distract me. "It seemed
like you were adjusting fairly well — especially recently. Maybe I was
just flattering myself that I was making life more interesting for you."

"I wasn't being nice," I confessed, ignoring his attempt at diversion,
looking down at my knees. "That was the same thing my mom said when she
left him. You could say I was hitting below the belt."

"Don't worry. He'll forgive you." He smiled a little, though it didn't
touch his eyes.

I stared at him desperately, and he saw the naked panic in my eyes.

"Bella, it's going to be all right."

"But it won't be all right when I'm not with you," I whispered.

"We'll be together again in a few days," he said, tightening his arm
around me. "Don't forget that this was your idea."

"It was the best idea — of course it was mine."

His answering smile was bleak and disappeared immediately.

"Why did this happen?" I asked, my voice catching. "Why me?"

He stared blackly at the road ahead. "It's my fault — I was a fool to
expose you like that." The rage in his voice was directed internally.

"That's not what I meant," I insisted. "I was there, big deal. It didn't
bother the other two. Why did this James decide to kill met There're
people all over the place, why me?"

He hesitated, thinking before he answered.

"I got a good look at his mind tonight," he began in a low voice. "I'm
not sure if there's anything I could have done to avoid this, once he saw
you. It is partially your fault." His voice was wry. "If you didn't smell
so appallingly luscious, he might not have bothered. But when I defended
you… well, that made it a lot worse. He's not used to being thwarted, no
matter how insignificant the object. He thinks of himself as a hunter and
nothing else. His existence is consumed with tracking, and a challenge is
all he asks of life. Suddenly we've presented him with a beautiful
challenge — a large clan of strong fighters all bent on protecting the
one vulnerable element. You wouldn't believe how euphoric he is now. It's
his favorite game, and we've just made it his most exciting game ever."
His tone was full of disgust.

He paused a moment.

"But if I had stood by, he would have killed you right then," he said
with hopeless frustration.

"I thought… I didn't smell the same to the others… as I do to you," I
said hesitantly.

"You don't. But that doesn't mean that you aren't still a temptation to
every one of them. If you had appealed to the tracker — or any of them —
the same way you appeal to me, it would have meant a fight right there."

I shuddered.

"I don't think I have any choice but to kill him now," he muttered.
"Carlisle won't like it."

I could hear the tires cross the bridge, though I couldn't see the river
in the dark. I knew we were getting close. I had to ask him now.

"How can you kill a vampire?"

He glanced at me with unreadable eyes and his voice was suddenly harsh.
"The only way to be sure is to tear him to shreds, and then burn the
pieces."

"And the other two will fight with him?"

"The woman will. I'm not sure about Laurent. They don't have a very
strong bond — he's only with them for convenience. He was embarrassed by
James in the meadow…"

"But James and the woman — they'll try to kill you?" I asked, my voice
raw.

"Bella, don't you dare waste time worrying about me. Your only concern is
keeping yourself safe and — please, please — trying not to be reckless."

"Is he still following?"

"Yes. He won't attack the house, though. Not tonight."

He turned off onto the invisible drive, with Alice following behind.

We drove right up to the house. The lights inside were bright, but they
did little to alleviate the blackness of the encroaching forest. Emmett
had my door open before the truck was stopped; he pulled me out of the
seat, tucked me like a football into his vast chest, and ran me through
the door.

We burst into the large white room, Edward and Alice at our sides. All of
them were there; they were already on their feet at the sound of our
approach. Laurent stood in their midst. I could hear low growls rumble
deep in Emmett's throat as he set me down next to Edward.

"He's tracking us," Edward announced, glaring balefully at Laurent.

Laurent's face was unhappy. "I was afraid of that."

Alice danced to Jasper's side and whispered in his ear; her lips quivered
with the speed of her silent speech. They flew up the stairs together.
Rosalie watched them, and then moved quickly to Emmett's side. Her
beautiful eyes were intense and — when they flickered unwillingly to my
face — furious.

"What will he do?" Carlisle asked Laurent in chilling tones.

"I'm sorry," he answered. "I was afraid, when your boy there defended
her, that it would set him off."

"Can you stop him?"

Laurent shook his head. "Nothing stops James when he gets started."

"We'll stop him," Emmett promised. There was no doubt what he meant.

"You can't bring him down. I've never seen anything like him in my three
hundred years. He's absolutely lethal. That's why I joined his coven."

His coven, I thought, of course. The show of leadership in the clearing
was merely that, a show.

Laurent was shaking his head. He glanced at me, perplexed, and back to
Carlisle. "Are you sure it's worth it?"

Edward's enraged roar filled the room; Laurent cringed back.

Carlisle looked gravely at Laurent. "I'm afraid you're going to have to
make a choice."

Laurent understood. He deliberated for a moment. His eyes took in every
face, and finally swept the bright room.

"I'm intrigued by the life you've created here. But I won't get in the
middle of this. I bear none of you any enmity, but I won't go up against
James. I think I will head north — to that clan in Denali." He hesitated.
"Don't underestimate James. He's got a brilliant mind and unparalleled
senses. He's every bit as comfortable in the human world as you seem to
be, and he won't come at you head on… I'm sorry for what's been unleashed
here. Truly sorry." He bowed his head, but I saw him flicker another
puzzled look at me.

"Go in peace," was Carlisle's formal answer.

Laurent took another long look around himself, and then he hurried out
the door.

The silence lasted less than a second.

"How close?" Carlisle looked to Edward.

Esme was already moving; her hand touched an inconspicuous keypad on the
wall, and with a groan, huge metal shutters began sealing up the glass
wall. I gaped.

"About three miles out past the river; he's circling around to meet up
with the female."

"What's the plan?"

"We'll lead him off, and then Jasper and Alice will run her south."

"And then?"

Edward's tone was deadly. "As soon as Bella is clear, we hunt him."

"I guess there's no other choice," Carlisle agreed, his face grim.

Edward turned to Rosalie.

"Get her upstairs and trade clothes," Edward commanded. She stared back
at him with livid disbelief.

"Why should I?" she hissed. "What is she to me? Except a menace — a
danger you've chosen to inflict on all of us."

I flinched back from the venom in her voice.

"Rose…" Emmett murmured, putting one hand on her shoulder. She shook it
off.

But I was watching Edward carefully, knowing his temper, worried about
his reaction.

He surprised me. He looked away from Rosalie as if she hadn't spoken, as
if she didn't exist.

"Esme?" he asked calmly.

"Of course," Esme murmured.

Esme was at my side in half a heartbeat, swinging me up easily into her
arms, and dashing up the stairs before I could gasp in shock.

"What are we doing?" I asked breathlessly as she set me down in a dark
room somewhere off the second-story hall.

"Trying to confuse the smell. It won't work for long, but it might help
get you out." I could hear her clothes falling to the floor.

"I don't think I'll fit…" I hesitated, but her hands were abruptly
pulling my shirt over my head. I quickly stripped my jeans off myself.
She handed me something, it felt like a shirt. I struggled to get my arms
through the right holes. As soon as I was done she handed me her slacks.
I yanked them on, but I couldn't get my feet out; they were too long. She
deftly rolled the hems a few times so I could stand. Somehow she was
already in my clothes. She pulled me back to the stairs, where Alice
stood, a small leather bag in one hand. They each grabbed one of my
elbows and half-carried me as they flew down the stairs.

It appeared that everything had been settled downstairs in our absence.
Edward and Emmett were ready to leave, Emmett carrying a heavy-looking
backpack over his shoulder. Carlisle was handing something small to Esme.
He turned and handed Alice the same thing — it was a tiny silver cell
phone.

"Esme and Rosalie will be taking your truck, Bella," he told me as he
passed. I nodded, glancing warily at Rosalie. She was glowering at
Carlisle with a resentful expression.

"Alice, Jasper — take the Mercedes. You'll need the dark tint in the
south."

They nodded as well.

"We're taking the Jeep."

I was surprised to see that Carlisle intended to go with Edward. I
realized suddenly, with a stab of fear, that they made up the hunting
party.

"Alice," Carlisle asked, "will they take the bait?"

Everyone watched Alice as she closed her eyes and became incredibly still.

Finally her eyes opened. "He'll track you. The woman will follow the
truck. We should be able to leave after that." Her voice was certain.

"Let's go." Carlisle began to walk toward the kitchen.

But Edward was at my side at once. He caught me up in his iron grip,
crushing me to him. He seemed unaware of his watching family as he pulled
my face to his, lifting my feet off the floor. For the shortest second,
his lips were icy and hard against mine. Then it was over. He set me
down, still holding my face, his glorious eyes burning into mine.

His eyes went blank, curiously dead, as he turned away.

And they were gone.

We stood there, the others looking away from me as the tears streaked
noiselessly down my face.

The silent moment dragged on, and then Esme's phone vibrated in her hand.
It flashed to her ear.

"Now," she said. Rosalie stalked out the front door without another
glance in my direction, but Esme touched my cheek as she passed.

"Be safe." Her whisper lingered behind them as they slipped out the door.
I heard my truck start thunderously, and then fade away.

Jasper and Alice waited. Alice's phone seemed to be at her ear before it
buzzed.

"Edward says the woman is on Esme's trail. I'll get the car." She
vanished into the shadows the way Edward had gone.

Jasper and I looked at each other. He stood across the length of the
entryway from me… being careful.

"You're wrong, you know," he said quietly.

"What?" I gasped.

"I can feel what you're feeling now — and you are worth it."

"I'm not," I mumbled. "If anything happens to them, it will be for
nothing."

"You're wrong," he repeated, smiling kindly at me.

I heard nothing, but then Alice stepped through the front door and came
toward me with her arms held out.

"May I?" she asked.

"You're the first one to ask permission." I smiled wryly.

She lifted me in her slender arms as easily as Emmett had, shielding me
protectively, and then we flew out the door, leaving the lights bright
behind us.
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离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
举报 只看该作者 17楼  发表于: 2012-08-16 0
第十七章 游戏
第十七章 游戏

天刚刚开始下蒙蒙细雨时，爱德华把车开进了我家所在的街道。直到这一刻，我才能确信无疑，自己一直和他在一起，在真实的世界里度过了一段短暂的时光。

然后我看见了那辆黑色的车，那辆停在查理的车道上的，饱受风雨侵蚀的老福特——我听到爱德华在用一种低沉粗噶的声音在喃喃低语着一些莫名其妙的句子。

站在屋前的门廊里避雨的，是站在他父亲的轮椅旁的雅克布.布莱克。当爱德华把我的卡车停在路基上时，比利的脸冷硬得像石头。雅克布垂下了头，他的神情很是苦恼。

爱德华低沉的声音有些狂暴。“这是越界的行为。”

“他来警告查理？”我猜测着，与其说是愤怒，不如说是恐惧。

爱德华只是点点头，眯缝起眼睛隔着雨幕回敬比利的注视。

我感到一种心虚的宽慰，查理还没回家。

“让我来处理这件事。”我提议道。爱德华阴暗的瞪视让我不安起来。

让我惊讶的是，他同意了。“这也许是最好的办法。不过，要当心。那孩子毫不知情。”

我对“孩子”这个词有点介意。“雅克布没比我小多少。”我提醒他。

他随即看着我，他的愤怒骤然消失了。“哦，我知道了。”他咧嘴一笑，向我保证。

我叹息着，把手放到了门把手上。

“让他们进屋。”他命令道。“这样我就能离开了。我会在傍晚时过来。”

“你需要开我的卡车吗？”我主动提出，同时想着要怎么跟查理解释它的消失。

他转了转眼睛。“我走回家去都比这车快。”

“你不需要离开的。”我渴望地说道。

他对我阴沉着的脸一笑置之。“事实上，我确实不会离开的。在你把他们赶走以后”——他阴沉地怒视了一眼布莱克一家的方向——“你还是得让查理准备好会见你的新男友。”他开心地咧嘴一笑，露出他全部的皓齿。

我呻吟道。“非常感谢。”

他露出我最爱的弯嘴坏笑。“我马上回来。”他保证道。他的眼睛飞快地瞥了一眼门廊的方向，然后他倚过来，飞快地吻了我一下，就在我下巴的边缘。我的心立刻狂热地跳了起来。而我也瞥了一眼门廊。比利不再是面无表情，他的手紧紧地握住轮椅的扶手。

“马上。”我强调着，打开门，走进雨里。

当我小跑着穿过毛毛细雨冲向门廊时，我能感觉到他的目光一直落在我的背上。

“嘿，比利。嗨，雅克布。”我尽可能爽朗地和他们打招呼。“查理今天出去了——我希望你们没有等太久。”

“不是很久。”比利耐着性子答道。他黑色的眼睛咄咄逼人。“我只是想把这个带来。”他指了指膝上的那个棕色纸袋。

“谢谢。”我说道，尽管我根本不知道那会是什么。“你们为什么不进来坐会儿，把自己弄干呢？”

当我开门的时候，我装作浑然不觉他紧张的监视，然后挥手示意他们走在我前头。

“来吧，让我来拿这个。”我主动说着，转身关上门。我允许自己最后再看一眼爱德华，他依然等在那里，一动不动，他的眼神很严肃。

“你最好把它放到冰箱离去。”比利把纸盒子递给我，提醒道。“这是一些哈利.克里尔沃特家自制的煎鱼——查理的最爱。冰箱能让它保持干燥。”他耸耸肩。  

“谢谢，”我重复道，但这次是真诚的感谢。“我已经想不出新的做鱼的方法了，可他今晚还会带更多的鱼回家。”

“又去钓鱼了？”比利问道，眼里闪过一丝微妙的亮光。“还在那个老地方？也许我可以开车过去看他。”

“不，”我立刻撒谎道，我的脸严峻起来。“他去了一个新地方……但我不知道在哪里。”

他把我的表情变化看在了眼里，这让他深思起来。

“杰可，”他说着，依然审视着我。“你为什么不回车里把瑞贝卡的新照片拿过来？我想把它也留给查理。”

“放在哪里？”雅克布问道，他的声音显得很郁闷。我看了他一眼，但他一直盯着地面，他的眉毛蹙在一起。

“我想我在那辆卡车里看见了。”比利说道。“你得去把它挖出来。”

雅克布无精打采地走出屋外，走回雨中。

比利和我沉默地对峙着。几秒钟以后，这种静寂开始变得尴尬起来，所以我转过身去，径直走向厨房。我能听到他跟着我，湿漉漉的轮椅碾过地上铺着的油毯发出吱吱声。

我把纸包塞进冰箱拥挤的上格，旋即转身与他对峙着。他棱角分明的脸上有着无法读懂的神情。

“查理得很久以后才会回来。”我的语气几近粗鲁。

他同意地点了点头，但什么也没说。

“再次感谢你的煎鱼。”我暗示道。

他继续点头，我叹了口气，把胳膊交叠在胸前。

他似乎感觉到我已经放弃了与他闲谈。“贝拉。”他说完，又踌躇了起来。

我等待着。

“贝拉，”他再次说道。“查理是我最好的朋友之一。”

“是的。”

他用他隆隆的嗓音小心地说着每个字。“我注意到，你经常和卡伦家的其中一个成员待在一起。”

“是的。”我简短地重复着。

他的眼睛眯缝起来。“也许这与我无关，但我不认为这是个好主意。”

“你是对的，”我赞同道。“这与你无关。”

听到我这样的语气，他扬起了灰白的眉毛。“你也许不知道这一点，但卡伦家在保留区声名狼藉。”

“确实，我不清楚这一点，”我用一种生硬的口吻告诉他。这让他大吃一惊。“但那种评价并不值得赞同，对吗？因为卡伦一家根本从未踏入过保留区，对吧？”我能看出，我不着痕迹地暗示了那个既束缚了他的部落，也保护着他的部落的协议，顿时阻止了他。

“这倒是真的。”他同意道，他的眼睛充满了提防。“你似乎……很了解卡伦一家。比我意料之中的还要了解。”

我俯视着他。“也许比你更熟知内情。”

他仔细地思索着，皱起他厚厚的嘴唇。“也许。”他认可道，但他的眼神很狡猾。“查理也熟知内情吗？”

他找到了我的盔甲上脆弱的缝隙。

“查理很喜欢卡伦一家。”我兜着圈子答道。他无疑明白了我在逃避。他的表情很不高兴，但并不讶异。

“这与我无关，”他说道。“但这也许和查理有关。”

“不管我是否认为这与查理有关，这始终是我自己的事，对吗？”

我努力不作出任何让步，我想知道他是否理解了我令人困惑的问题。但他似乎明白了。他思索着，雨水打在屋顶上，成为打破这片沉默的唯一的声音。

“是的。”他最终投降了。“我猜这也是你自己的事。”

我如释重负地叹了口气。“谢谢，比利。”

“不过要好好想想你正在做的事，贝拉。”他极力催促道。

“好吧。”我飞快地赞同道。

他皱起眉。“我的意思是说，不要做你正在做的事。”

我看着他的眼睛，他眼里只有对我的关心，我什么也说不出来。

就在这时，前门砰地一声响起来，我被这声音吓了一跳。

“车里根本没有什么照片。”雅克布人还没到，抱怨声就传来了。他转过拐角时，他肩上的恤衫被雨打湿了，他的头发滴着水。

“呃嗯，”比利咕哝着，忽然从我身边走开，把他的轮椅转过去面对着他的儿子。“我猜我把它落在家里了。”

雅克布使劲翻了翻眼睛。“很好。”

“嗯，贝拉，告诉查理”——比利停顿一下，继续说道——“就说我们来过，我是说。”

“我会的。”我喃喃低语道。

雅克布很吃惊。“我们要走了吗？”

“查理出去了，要很晚才能回来。”比利解释着，摇着轮椅越过雅克布。

“哦，”雅克布看上去很失望。“好吧，那么，我猜我们只能回见了，贝拉。”

“当然，”我赞同道。

“当心。”比利警告我。我没有会的。

雅克布帮助他父亲越过门槛。我简短地挥了挥手，飞快地瞥了一眼我空荡荡的卡车，然后在他们离开以前关上了门。

我在走廊里站了一分钟，听着他们把车倒出去然后开走的声音。我待在原地，等着自己的愤怒和焦虑平息下来。当我的紧张终于稍微褪色的时候，我冲上楼，换下自己考究的衣着。

我换了好几套不同的搭配，还是不能确定今晚应该穿什么。当我把注意力集中在将要发生的事上时，刚刚发生的一切变得无关紧要起来。一旦我脱离了贾斯帕和爱德华的影响，我就开始补上刚才没惊吓的份了。我立刻放弃挑选出一套外出服的打算——随便丢了一件旧的法兰绒恤衫和一条牛仔裤——知道自己整夜都会待在自己的雨衣里。

电话响了起来，我冲下楼去接。我想听的声音只有一个，任何别的声音都会令我失望。但我知道如果他想和我说话的话，他也许会直接出现在我的房间里。

“你好？”我屏住呼吸，问道。

“贝拉？是我。”杰西卡说道。

“哦，嗨，杰西。”我挣扎了片刻，才回到现实中来。感觉像是我有几个月而不是几天没和杰西说话了。“舞会怎么样了？”

“非常有趣！”杰西卡滔滔不绝地说道。无需更进一步的邀请，她就开始一五一十地讲述起前天晚上的所有细节。我在恰当的时候“嗯嗯”和“啊啊”，但很难专心。杰西卡，迈克，舞会，学校——此时此刻，这一切似乎都陌生得不可思议。我的眼睛不停地瞟着窗外，试图从厚重的云层里看出天色的早晚。

“你听到我说的了吗，贝拉？”杰西恼怒地问道。

“抱歉，什么？”

“我说，迈克吻了我！你能相信吗？”

“太棒了，杰西。”我说道。

“那么，你昨天做了什么？”杰西卡问道，听起来还在为我的心不在焉而恼怒着。或许她只是有些失落，因为我没有问起更加详细的细节。

“没做什么，真的。我只是在外头晃悠，享受阳光。”

我听到查理的车开进车库的声音。

“你听到任何关于爱德华.卡伦的最新消息了吗？”

前门被砰地关上了，我听到查理在楼梯底下乒乒乓乓地收拾着他的装备。

“呃嗯。”我迟疑着，不敢肯定要怎么掰我的故事。

“嗨，你在啊，孩子！”查理一边走进厨房，一边喊道。我向他招了招手。

杰西听到了他的声音。“哦，你爸在啊。没关系——我们明天再聊。三角函数课上见。”

“回见，杰西。”我挂上了电话。

“嗨，爸爸。”我说道。他在水槽里擦洗着手。“鱼在哪里？”

“我放进冰箱里了。”

“我得抢在它们被冻起来以前拿点出来——下午时比利来过，带了一点哈利.克里尔沃特的煎鱼来。”我努力让自己听起来热情些。

“真的？”查理的眼睛发亮了。“那是我的最爱。”  

在我准备晚餐的时候，查理动手把自己收拾干净。没过多久，我们俩就坐在了桌旁，沉默地吃着晚餐。查理很喜欢今晚的菜式。我则在拼命地想着要怎样进行自己的安排，挣扎着想要找出一种引出话题的办法。

“你今天一个人都做了些什么？”他问道，猛地把我从沉思里拉了出来。

“嗯，今天下午我只是在屋外到处转了转……”事实上，只是在下午很晚的时候。我试图让自己的声音显得很快乐，但我实在是有些心虚。“还有今天早上，我去了卡伦家。”

查理的叉子掉了下来。

“卡伦医生那里？”他惊愕地问道。

我假装没注意到他的反应。“是的。”

“你去那里做什么？”他没有捡起他的叉子。

“嗯，我今晚跟爱德华.卡伦算是有个约会，而他想先把我介绍给他的父母……爸爸？”

查理看上去像是得了动脉瘤。

“爸爸，你还好吧？”

“你要和爱德华.卡伦出去？”他怒吼道。

啊噢。“我还以为你喜欢卡伦家的人。”

“他对你来说太老了。”他怒气冲冲地叫嚷着。

“我们都是高中生。”我更正道，虽然他比他料到的还要正确。

“等等……”他顿了顿。“哪个是埃德温？”

“爱德华是最小的那个，长着红棕色头发的那个。”最俊美的那个，最像天神的那个……

“哦，好吧，那”——他挣扎着——“好多了，我猜。我不喜欢那个老大的长相。我相信他各方面都是个不错的男孩，但他看上去太……对你来说，太成熟了。那个埃德温是你的男朋友吗？”

“是爱德华，爸爸。”

“他是吗？”

“我猜，某种程度上，是的。”

“你昨晚还说着你对镇上的男孩都没有兴趣。”但他又拿起了他的叉子，所以我知道最难熬的那段已经过去了。

“嗯，爱德华不住在镇上，爸爸。”

他咀嚼着，轻蔑地看了我一眼。

“还有，无论如何，”我继续说道。“我们才刚刚开始，你知道的。别再说什么男朋友不男朋友的，这太让我难为情了，”

“他要过来吗？”

“他几分钟后到。”

“他要带你去哪里？”

我大声地呻吟道。“我希望你已经把那种西班牙宗教法庭式的审讯方式从你脑子里丢开了。我们要去和他家里人一起打棒球。”

他皱起脸，最终轻笑起来。“你要打棒球？”

“嗯，大部分时间我可能会都在当观众。”

“你一定很喜欢那家伙。”他猜疑地评价道。

我叹息着，为着他的缘故，只是翻了翻白眼。

我听到从屋前传来的引擎的轰鸣声。我跳起来，开始收拾餐具。

“别管那些盘子，今晚我来收拾。你也太把我当孩子了。”

门铃响了起来，查理大步走过去开门。我只比他快了半步。

我完全没有注意到，屋外正下着倾盆大雨。爱德华站在门廊的灯光下，看上去像是雨衣广告里的男模特。

“进来吧，爱德华。”

我如释重负地松了口气，这次查理终于把他的名字念对了。

“谢谢，史温警长。”爱德华毕恭毕敬地说道。

“进来，叫我查理就行，我来拿你的外套。”

“谢谢，先生。”

“坐吧，爱德华。”

我扮了个鬼脸。

爱德华毫不犹豫地坐到了唯一的一张椅子上，逼得我只好过去和查理一起坐在沙发上。我飞快地狠狠瞪了他一眼。他在查理背后使了个眼色。  

“那么，我听说你要带我的女儿去看棒球。”只有在华盛顿，外面下着倾盆大雨的事实才会对参加户外运动毫无影响。

“是的，先生。计划是这样的。”他看上去毫不惊讶于我居然把实情告诉了我爸爸。不过，他也许早就听到了。

“嗯，我猜，我得祝你大大的好运了。”

查理大笑起来，而爱德华也跟着笑了起来。

“好了。”我站起来。“拿我寻开心也该适可而止了。我们走吧。”我走回前厅，穿上我的外套。他们都跟着走了过来。

“别待太晚，贝拉。”

“别担心，查理，我一定会早早把她送回家。”爱德华保证道。

“照顾好我女儿，好吗？”

我呻吟起来，但他们都无视我。

“她跟我在一起会很安全的，我保证，先生。”

查理根本无法质疑爱德华的诚意，他说出的每一个字都饱含着诚挚。

我大步走出屋外。他们都大笑起来，爱德华跟着我走出来。

我停在门廊里，愣住了。那里，就在我的卡车后面，停着一辆庞然大物般的越野车。它的轮胎比我的腰还高。车的前灯和尾灯周围都围着金属护栏，防撞栏上安装着四个巨大的探照灯。这辆车子是耀眼的火红色。

查理低低地吹了一声口哨。

“系上你的安全带。”他憋出几个字来。

爱德华跟着我走到乘客座旁，把门打开了。我估量着自己跟座位的距离，准备跳上去。他叹了口气，然后单手把我举了起来。我希望查理没有注意到这点。

然后，他用一种正常的人类的速度走回驾驶座。我试图系上自己的安全带。但这安全带的系扣太多了。

“这些都是什么东西？”当他打开车门的时候，我问道。

“这是越野车专用安全带。”

“噢-哦。”

我试图找出每对系扣的正确搭配，但进度实在是太慢了。他又叹了口气，伸过手来帮我。我很高兴这雨吓得太大，没法看清楚站在门廊里的查理。这也意味着他看不见爱德华的双手是怎样在我的脖子上流连着，轻触着我的锁骨。我放弃帮他的忙，全神贯注地稳住自己的呼吸。

爱德华拧动车匙，引擎轰鸣着发动起来。我们把车从屋前开走了。

“你有一辆……呃……很大的越野车。”

“这是艾美特的。我认为你不想一路上都用跑的。”

“你们把车停在哪里？”

“我们把其中一间外屋改建成了车库。”

“你不打算系上你的安全带吗？”

他用质疑的眼神看着我。

然后某件事闯入了我的脑海。

“一路上都用跑的？这就是说，我们还得跑上一段路吗？”我的声音不知不觉提高了八个音阶。

他紧张地咧嘴一笑。“你不必跑。”

“我会晕过去的。”

“把眼睛闭上，你会没事的。”

我咬住唇，竭力抑制住恐惧。

他侧过身来，吻了吻我的头顶，然后叹息起来。我困惑地看着他。

“雨里的你闻起来很不错。”他解释道。

“这是好事，还是坏事？”我谨慎地问道。

他叹了口气。“两者都有，通常都是两者都有。”    

我不知道他是怎么在一片黑暗和倾盆大雨里找着路的，但他终究找到了一条辅路，与其说是马路，不如说是山间小路。有很长一段时间我们根本没办法谈话，因为我一直像只手提钻一样在座位上弹上弹下。不过，他似乎很喜欢在这样的路上开车，一路上他都在大笑着。

然后，我们到达了路的尽头。树木筑成了绿色的藩篱，围绕在越野车的三侧。雨每一秒都在减弱，已经变成了一种毛毛细雨，云层后的天空变得稍微明亮些了。

“抱歉，贝拉，从这里开始我们就得走过去了。”

“你知道我怎么打算吗？我会在这里等你。”

“你的勇气都到哪里去了？今天早上你还特别勇敢的。”

“我可还没忘记上次的事。”这居然还是昨天刚刚发生的事？

他一阵风似的绕到我身旁。他开始解开我的安全带。

“我自己来，你去吧。”我竭力主张道。

“呃嗯……”他一边飞快地解开所有系扣，一边若有所思地说道。“也许我得修改一下你的记忆。”

我还没反应过来，他已经把我拉出车外，让我落到地上。现在雨已经变成蒙蒙细雨了。爱丽丝是对的。

“修改我的记忆？”我提心吊胆地问道。

“类似于这样的事情。”他专注地看着我，但他的眼里有着浓浓的调侃。他把手撑在越野车上，落在我的头的两侧，然后向我侧下身来，逼得我紧靠在了门上。他的脸离我的脸只有几英寸远。我根本无路可逃。

“现在，”他轻声说着，他的气息完全打乱了我的思路。“你到底在担心着什么？”

“嗯，呃，撞到树上——”我吞咽了一下“——撞死，还有眩晕。”

他报以一笑。他低下头，用冰冷的唇温柔地吻着我的颈窝。

“现在，你还在担心么？”他贴着我的肌肤，喃喃低语道。

“是的。”我挣扎着继续说道。“担心撞树和晕眩。”

他的鼻子轻轻地贴着我的肌肤，从我的喉咙一路滑到我的下颌。他冰冷的呼吸呵在我的肌肤上，有点儿痒。

“那现在呢？”他的唇贴住我的下颌，耳语着。

“树，”我喘息着说。“运动症。”  

他低下头，吻着我的眼睑。“贝拉，你不会真的认为我会撞到树上吧，对吗？”

“不，但我也许会。”我的声音里毫无自信。他嗅到了胜利在望的味道。

他慢慢地，一路往下吻着我的脸颊，恰好停在了我的嘴角上。

“我会让你撞到树上吗？”他的唇轻轻地刷过我微微颤抖着的下唇。

“不，”我喘息着说。我知道如果我要很好地反击的话，我还得补上一句。但我实在说不出来。

然后，他几近粗暴地捧起我的脸，如痴如醉地吻着我，他坚硬的唇摩挲着我的唇。

我实在找不到借口为自己的行为解脱。显然事到如今我已经比上次更清楚这样做的后果了，但我还是情不自禁地像第一次那样做出反应。我没有安全地待在那里一动不动，而是伸出胳膊紧紧地缠住他的脖子，然后忽然贴上了他大理石般的五官。我喘息着，张开了唇。

他摇摇晃晃地退开，毫不费力地挣脱了我的紧握。

“该死，贝拉！”他挣脱出来，喘着气说道。“我发誓，我迟早会死在你手里的
我弯下身子，用手撑着膝盖稳住自己。

“你不会死的。”我咕哝着说道，试图稳住自己的呼吸。

“在遇见你之前，我本来是很相信这一点的。现在，在我真的做出什么蠢事以前，让我们离开这儿。”

他像之前一样把我扔到了背上，我看到出来，为了跟原来一样温柔他格外费了点劲。我把腿交缠在他腰上，胳膊紧紧地扣住他的脖子。

“别忘了闭上眼睛。”他严厉地警告道。

我飞快地把头贴住他的肩胛骨，埋在自己的胳膊下，然后紧紧地闭上了眼睛。
我几乎没有感觉到我们在移动。我只能感觉到他在我下面滑行着，但他就像是在人行道上溜达一样，动作很平稳。我心痒痒的，想要偷看一眼，想知道他是不是真的像之前那样飞跃过丛林，但我抵至住了这种诱或。不值得为这事再来一回可怕的眩晕。我让自己满足于听着他平稳的呼吸。

我不太能肯定我们是否已经停下来了，直到他伸过手抚着我的发。

“已经结束了，贝拉。”

我壮着胆子睁开了眼，然后确定，我们确实停下来了。我笨拙地松开把他箍得死死的四肢，滑落到地上，仰躺在那里。

“噢！”当我撞到潮湿的地上时，我愤怒地喊道。

他怀疑地看着我，显然还不能肯定自己是否还在生气，是否还有心情拿我寻开心。但我不知所措的表情推了他一把，他终于撑不住狂笑起来。

我自己挣扎着站起来，不去理会他，只是把外套后面的泥泞和蕨类植物拍掉。这让他笑得更凶了。我气恼地大步走进密林里。

我感觉到他的胳膊环住了我的腰。

“你要去哪里，贝拉？”

“去看棒球赛。你好像对打球没什么兴趣了，但我敢肯定就算没有你别人也能玩得很开心的。”  

“你走错方向了。”

我转过身，看也不看他，高视阔步地向相反的方向走去。他又拉住了我。

“别生气，我只是一时情难自禁。你真应该看看你自己的脸。”他轻笑着，好不容易才按捺住笑意。

“哦，就许你一个人生气？”我扬起眉毛，问道。

“我没在生你的气。”

“‘贝拉，我会死在你手里的’？”我酸溜溜地引述他的话。

“这只是就事论事。”

我试图转身再次挣脱他，但他眼疾手快地抓住了我。

“你就是在生气。”我坚持说道。

“是的。”

“可你才说着——”

“我不是在生你的气。你看不出来吗，贝拉？”他忽然紧绷起来，所有调侃的痕迹都消失了。“你不明白吗？”

“明白什么？”我诘问道，他突如其来的心情变化和他说的话一样让我困惑。

“我从来不会对你生气——我怎么可能生你的气呢？你是这么的勇敢，坚信……温暖。”

“那是为什么？”我低声说着，记起了把他从我身旁拉开的那些阴暗的情绪，我一直把那解释为是一种情有可原的失望——对我的软弱，我的迟钝，我蛮不讲理的人类反应的失望……  
他小心地用双手捧起了我的脸颊：“我是在生我自己的气，”他温柔地说着。“我气我自己总是无法控制自己，总是让你处于险境。我不同寻常的存在总是让你处于危险之中。有时候我真的很厌恶自己。我应该更强大些，我应该能——”

我用手掩住他的口。“别。”

他抓住我的手，从他的唇上拿开，却按在了自己的脸上。

“我爱你，”他说道。“这实在是一个蹩脚的借口，一个用来解释我所做的一切的借口，但这确实是真的。”

这是他第一次说他爱我——尽管还加上了这么多多余的话。他也许没有觉察到这一点，但我确实意识到了。

“现在，求你，试着做你自己。”他继续说着，弯下身子，温柔地用他的唇摩挲着我的唇。

我明智地保持一动不动。然后，我叹了口气。

“你向史温警长保证过，你要早点带我回家的，还记得吗？我们最好现在就过去。”

“是的，女士。”

他充满渴望地笑起来，放开了我，只用一只手挽住我。他领着我在高大潮湿的蕨类植物和垂挂着的苔藓之间走了几英尺，绕过一棵宏伟的铁杉。然后，我们到了。我们正站在奥林匹克山山腰上一片巨大的开阔地的边缘。它是任何一个露天棒球场的两倍大。

我看见别的人都已经到了：艾思梅，艾美特和罗莎莉正坐在一块露出地面的光秃秃的岩石上，他们离我们最近，大概有一百码的距离。在更远些的地方，我看见贾斯帕和爱丽丝，他们隔着大概有四分之一英里远的距离站着，似乎正在把什么东西抛来抛去，但我没看见球。看上去卡莱尔正在标出各个垒的位置，可是每个垒之间真的要隔那么开吗？

当我们出现的时候，岩石上的三个人站起身起来。

艾思梅开始向我们这边走来。艾美特长长地看了一眼罗莎莉的背影，也跟着过来了。罗莎莉优雅地站起来，大步朝场地那边走去，看也不看我们的方向一眼。我的胃立刻有了反应，不安地痉挛起来。

“我们听到的是你吗，爱德华？”艾思梅一边说着，一边走过来。

“听起来像是一只熊被噎着了。”艾美特进一步解释道。

我迟疑地向艾思梅微笑。“那就是他。”

“贝拉当时无意中显得很好笑。”爱德华解释道，立刻扳回一城。

爱丽丝已经离开了她原来在的位置，向我们跑过来，或者说，是舞着过来。她如行云流水般冲过来，停在我们跟前。“时间到。”她宣布到。

她话音刚落，一声沉闷的隆隆的雷声在离我们很远的密林中炸开了，然后向西边的城镇划去。

“怪可怕的，不是吗？”艾美特自来熟地说着，冲我眨了眨眼。

“我们走吧。”爱丽丝和艾美特一击掌，然后他们像箭一样向那块超大型的场地投掷过去。她奔跑的样子像一只瞪羚。艾美特几乎和她一样优雅，一样快——尽管艾美特永远也不可能被比作一只瞪羚。  

你准备好打几棒了吗？”爱德华问道，他的眼睛闪闪发亮，很是热切。

我试图让自己听起来有恰如其分的热情。“归队！”

他窃笑着，弄乱了我的头发，然后紧跟着另外两人弹射出去。他的奔跑更具攻击性，更像一只猎豹而非瞪羚。他飞快地超过了他们。那种优雅和力量让我屏住了呼吸。

“我们要过去了吗？”艾思梅用她温柔的，优美的声线问道，我这才意识到自己一直贪婪地注视着他的背影。我立刻调整好自己的表情，点了点头。艾思梅始终和我保持着几英尺的距离，我怀疑她还在小心翼翼地避免吓着我。她配合着我的步调走着，没有丝毫的不耐烦。

“你不和他们一起打球吗？”我羞涩地问道。

“不，我更喜欢当裁判——我喜欢让他们诚实地比赛。”她解释道。

“那么，他们喜欢作弊吗？”

“哦是的——你真应该听听他们是怎样吵吵嚷嚷的！事实上，我希望你不必听到，否则你会认为他们是在狼群里长大的。”

“你说话的语气真像我妈。”我惊讶地大笑起来。

她也大笑起来。“好吧，基本上，我确实视他们如己出。我从没能从自己的母性本能中恢复过来——爱德华有没有告诉过你，我失去过一个孩子？”

“没有。”我大受惊吓，喃喃低语着。我脑子里很混乱，不知道她想起的是哪段人生。

“是的，我第一个，也是唯一一个还在。他生下来几天就夭折了，可怜的小东西，”她叹息着说道。“我的心都碎了——所以我才会从悬崖上跳下来，你知道。”她实话实说地补充道。

“爱德华只是说你跳——跳下来了。”我结结巴巴地说道。

“他总是那么绅士。”她笑了起来。“爱德华是我新生后的第一个儿子。我总是那样认为的，虽然他比我更为年长，至少在某种程度上来说是这样。”她温和地向我微笑着。“所以，当他找到你的时候，我才会那么的高兴，亲爱的。”她语气里的亲切感是那么的自然。“他独自一人过得太久了，看着他一直单身让我很难过。”

“那么，你不介意吗？”我又踌躇起来，问道。“如果我……我对他来说完全是个错误？”

“不。”她深思熟虑地说道。“你就是他想要的。不管怎样，这是命中注定的。”话是这样说，可她的额头却因为担心而皱了起来。又一阵隆隆的雷声响了起来。

然后，艾思梅停了下来。显然，我们已经到了场边。看上去他们已经组好队了。爱德华守在左外野，卡莱尔站在一垒和二垒之间，爱丽丝拿着球，站在某处必定是投手板的小土堆上。

艾美特正在耍弄着一根球棒，它在空气中呼呼作响，我却几乎看不见它运动的痕迹。我等着他走到本垒，但随后我意识到，他已经做好了击球的准备，他已经站好了——站在离投手板那么远的地方，比我以为可能是本垒的地方还要远得多。贾斯帕站在他身后几英尺的地方，作为另一队的捕手。当然，他们中没有一个人戴着手套。  
“各就各位，”艾思梅用清亮的声音喊道，我知道即使是爱德华站在那么远的地方，他也能听到。“开始。”

爱丽丝站得直直的，装模作样地一动不动。作为一个摆出挥臂准备投球的姿势的人而言，她的作风似乎太诡异了点。她双手拿球放在腰间，然后，就像眼镜蛇的突袭一样，她的右手轻快地一甩，球不偏不倚地向贾斯帕的手里飞去。

“那是一个好球吗？”我对艾思梅耳语道。

“如果他们不挥棒的话，这就是个好球。”她告诉我。

贾斯帕用力把球扔回爱丽丝正等着的手里。她容许自己简短地一笑，然后她的手再次旋转起来。

这一次，那根球棒挥动起来，以某种方式及时击中了那个根本看不见的球。撞击的声音有如山崩，隆隆作响。这声音回荡在山峦之间——我立刻明白了雷雨天的必要性。

那球像流星一样掠过场地上空，远远地落入周围的密林之中。

“全垒打。”我喃喃低语道。

“再等等看，”艾思梅警告着，她专注地聆听着，一只手高高举起。艾美特风一般环绕着所有的垒跑着，卡莱尔在向他示意。我意识到，爱德华不见了。

“出局！”艾思梅用清亮的声音高喊着。我难以置信地看着爱德华从林海的边缘跃出，高举的手里攒着球，他欢畅的咧嘴大笑连我都看得清清楚楚。

“艾美特的击球最有力，”艾思梅解释道。“但爱德华跑得最快。”

这一局在我充满怀疑的注视中继续着。我的目光根本跟不上那只球飞舞的速度，也跟不上他们在场地上奔跑的身影。

当贾斯帕试图躲开爱德华滴水不漏的外野守卫，把一只地滚球击向卡莱尔的时候，我了解到了他们需要等到雷雨天才能玩球的另一个理由。卡莱尔冲过去截住那只球，然后把贾斯帕送上了一垒。他们相撞的声音，听起来像是两块飞速落下的巨石撞击的声音。我担心地跳了起来，但他们不知怎的都毫发无损。

“安全上垒。”艾思梅用冷静的声音说道。

艾美特的队伍领先一分——罗莎莉在艾美特击出一记长长的高飞球时成功触垒，然后设法沿着各垒奔跑——这时爱德华接住了第三个界外球。他冲到我身旁，兴奋得像在闪闪发光。

“你感觉怎么样？”他问道。

“有一件事我很确定，我再也不能坐下来看完整场老旧乏味的大联盟棒球赛了。”

“听起来你以前没少看他们的比赛。”他大笑起来。

“我有点失望。”我揶揄道。

“为什么？”他困惑地问道。

“嗯，如果我能从你身上找到哪怕一点你不如这个星球上的其他人的事情，我会感觉更好些。”

他露出一抹他特有的弯弯坏笑，走开了，丢下我一个人在那里，几乎喘不过气来。

“我来了。”他说着，向本垒板走去。

他的打法很聪明，他把球打得很低。罗莎莉虽然在外野随时把手准备着，但还是没能接着那个球。在艾美特把球扔回来以前，他已经像闪电一样跑过了两个垒。卡莱尔击出一记长球，飞得几乎和场地一样远——那轰隆声震得我的耳朵生疼——然后他和爱德华双双上垒。爱丽丝高调而优雅地和他们击掌相贺。  

比赛继续进行着，比分在不断地变化着，当他们轮流领先时，他们像那些街头棒球手那样互相嘲弄着。偶尔，艾思梅会冲他们大喊，让他们收敛一点。雷声继续轰鸣着，但我们依然很干爽（但完全没有雨水），就像爱丽丝预言过的那样。

轮到卡莱尔击球，爱德华捕球的时候，爱丽丝忽然喘息起来。像往常一样，我的眼睛始终盯着爱德华，我看见他猛地抬起头，看着她。他们对视着，瞬间用眼神交流着某些事情。在别人还没来得及开口问爱丽丝发生了什么事时，他已经站在了我身边。

“爱丽丝？”艾思梅的声音很紧张。

“我看不见——我说不准。”她耳语着。

这时所有人都聚拢了过来。

“怎么回事，爱丽丝？”卡莱尔用充满威信的冷静的语气问道。

“他们移动得比我预计的还要快，我看见我之前的预计出错了。”她低声说着。

贾斯帕向她俯下身去，做出保护性的姿势：“什么情况变了？”他问道。

“他们听到我们在打球，于是改变了路线。”她懊悔地说着，就好像她觉得她对某些吓着了她的事情责任重大。

七双敏捷的眼睛同时瞄向我，随即移开了。

“还有多久？”卡莱尔说着，转向爱德华。

一种紧绷的全神贯注的神情掠过他的脸。

“不到五分钟。他们在奔跑——他们想加入比赛。”他阴沉着脸说道。

“你能赶上吗？”卡莱尔问他，他的眼睛再次瞥了我一眼。

“不能，如果不带着——”他打住了话头。“还有，我们最不需要的事情就是让他们闻到味道然后开始狩猎。”

“有几个人？”艾美特问爱丽丝。

“三个。”她简单地答道。

“三个！”他嘲弄着。“让他们来吧。”他粗壮的胳膊上钢铁般的肌肉群一路膨胀起来。

对话停顿了片刻，卡莱尔仔细思索着，这一秒钟显得格外的漫长。只有艾美特一个人显得很镇定，其余的人都用焦虑不安的眼神注视着卡莱尔的脸。

“让我们继续比赛。”卡莱尔最终决定道。他的声音既沉着又淡定。“爱丽丝说他们只是很好奇。”

所有一连串的对话只持续了几秒钟。我仔细地听着，捕捉到了大部分的意思，但我还是没听到艾思梅问了爱德华什么，她的嘴唇沉默地颤抖着。我只看见他轻微地摇了摇头，她脸上露出了宽慰的神情。

“你来当捕手，艾思梅。”他说道。“现在我来下令。”然后他让自己矗立在了我跟前。

别的人都在走回场地上去，用他们锐利的目光警惕地扫视着幽暗的密林。爱丽丝和艾美特似乎刻意地围着我站着。

“把你的头发放下来。”爱德华用低沉平缓的声音说道。

我顺从地扯下绑着头发的橡皮圈，甩头让头发散落下来。

我点出那个显而易见的情况。“别的吸血鬼正在过来。”

“是的，待在那儿别动，保持安静，不要离开我，求你了。”他很好地隐藏着他声音里的紧张感，但我还是听出来了。他把我的长发拉到前面来，披散在我脸上。

“这没用，”爱丽丝温和地说道。“我从场地那头就能闻到她。”  

“我知道。”他的声音里透着一丝沮丧的颜色。

卡莱尔站到了投手板上，其他人也不甚认真地加入到比赛中。

“艾思梅问你什么？”我耳语道。

他迟疑了一秒，然后答道。“他们渴不渴。”他极不情愿地喃喃低语。

时间一分一秒地过去，现在比赛已经进行得很无趣了。没有人敢把球打得比一支短打更远，艾美特，罗莎莉和贾斯帕一直在内野里徘徊着。偶尔，在因为恐惧而麻木的意识中，我会留意到罗莎莉正注视着我。她的眸子没有流露出任何情绪，但她紧抿的唇让我感觉到她在生气。

爱德华根本没在注意比赛，他的眼睛和头脑都在广泛搜索着密林。

“对不起，贝拉。”他强烈地低声自责着。“这实在太愚蠢了，我太不可靠了，竟然让你暴露在这样的危险之中。我很抱歉。”

我听到他的呼吸停住了，他的眼睛瞄准了右方的场地。他踏出半步，把自己挡住我和即将到来的一切之间。

卡莱尔，艾美特，还有其他人都转身朝着同一个方向站着，聆听着对我的耳朵来说太过微弱的，拜访者的脚步声。
17. THE GAME




It was just beginning to drizzle when Edward turned onto my street. Up
until that moment, I'd had no doubt that he'd be staying with me while I
spent a few interim hours in the real world.

And then I saw the black car, a weathered Ford, parked in Charlie's
driveway — and heard Edward mutter something unintelligible in a low,
harsh voice.

Leaning away from the rain under the shallow front porch, Jacob Black
stood behind his father's wheelchair. Billy's face was impassive as stone
as Edward parked my truck against the curb. Jacob stared down, his
expression mortified.

Edward's low voice was furious. "This is crossing the line."

"He came to warn Charlie?" I guessed, more horrified than angry.

Edward just nodded, answering Billy's gaze through the rain with narrowed
eyes.

I felt weak with relief that Charlie wasn't home yet.

"Let me deal with this," I suggested. Edward's black glare made me
anxious.

To my surprise, he agreed. "That's probably best. Be careful, though. The
child has no idea."

I bridled a little at the word child. "Jacob is not that much younger
than I am," I reminded him.

He looked at me then, his anger abruptly fading. "Oh, I know," he assured
me with a grin.

I sighed and put my hand on the door handle.

"Get them inside," he instructed, "so I can leave. I'll be back around
dusk."

"Do you want my truck?" I offered, meanwhile wondering how I would
explain its absence to Charlie.

He rolled his eyes. "I could walk home faster than this truck moves."

"You don't have to leave," I said wistfully.

He smiled at my glum expression. "Actually, I do. After you get rid of
them" — he threw a dark glance in the Blacks' direction — "you still have
to prepare Charlie to meet your new boyfriend." He grinned widely,
showing all of his teeth.

I groaned. "Thanks a lot."

He smiled the crooked smile that I loved. "I'll be back soon," he
promised. His eyes flickered back to the porch, and then he leaned in to
swiftly kiss me just under the edge of my jaw. My heart lurched
frantically, and I, too, glanced toward the porch. Billy's face was no
longer impassive, and his hands clutched at the armrests of his chair.

"Soon," I stressed as I opened the door and stepped out into the rain.

I could feel his eyes on my back as I half-ran through the light sprinkle

toward the porch.

"Hey, Billy. Hi, Jacob." I greeted them as cheerfully as I could manage.
"Charlie's gone for the day — I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"Not long," Billy said in a subdued tone. His black eyes were piercing.
"I just wanted to bring this up." He indicated a brown paper sack resting
in his lap.

"Thanks," I said, though I had no idea what it could be. "Why don't you
come in for a minute and dry off?"

I pretended to be oblivious to his intense scrutiny as I unlocked the
door, and waved them in ahead of me.

"Here, let me take that," I offered, turning to shut the door. I allowed
myself one last glance at Edward. He was waiting, perfectly still, his
eyes solemn.

"You'll want to put it in the fridge," Billy noted as he handed me the
package. "It's some of Harry Clearwater's homemade fish fry — Charlie's
favorite. The fridge keeps it drier." He shrugged.

"Thanks," I repeated, but with feeling this time. "I was running out of
new ways to fix fish, and he's bound to bring home more tonight."

"Fishing again?" Billy asked with a subtle gleam in his eye. "Down at the
usual spot? Maybe I'll run by and see him."

"No," I quickly lied, my face going hard. "He was headed someplace new…
but I have no idea where."

He took in my changed expression, and it made him thoughtful.

"Jake," he said, still appraising me. "Why don't you go get that new
picture of Rebecca out of the car? I'll leave that for Charlie, too."

"Where is it?" Jacob asked, his voice morose. I glanced at him, but he
was staring at the floor, his eyebrows pulling together.

"I think I saw it in the trunk," Billy said. "You may have to dig for it."

Jacob slouched back out into the rain.

Billy and I faced each other in silence. After a few seconds, the quiet
started to feel awkward, so I turned and headed to the kitchen. I could
hear his wet wheels squeak against the linoleum as he followed.

I shoved the bag onto the crowded top shelf of the fridge, and spun
around to confront him. His deeply lined face was unreadable.

"Charlie won't be back for a long time." My voice was almost rude.

He nodded in agreement, but said nothing.

"Thanks again for the fish fry," I hinted.

He continued nodding. I sighed and folded my arms across my chest.

He seemed to sense that I had given up on small talk. "Bella," he said,
and then he hesitated.

I waited.

"Bella," he said again, "Charlie is one of my best friends."

"Yes."

He spoke each word carefully in his rumbling voice. "I noticed you've
been spending time with one of the Cullens."

"Yes," I repeated curtly.

His eyes narrowed. "Maybe it's none of my business, but I don't think
that is such a good idea."

"You're right," I agreed. "It is none of your business."

He raised his graying eyebrows at my tone. "You probably don't know this,
but the Cullen family has an unpleasant reputation on the reservation."

"Actually, I did know that," I informed him in a hard voice. This
surprised him. "But that reputation couldn't be deserved, could it?
Because the Cullens never set foot on the reservation, do they?" I could
see that my less than subtle reminder of the agreement that both bound
and protected his tribe pulled him up short.

"That's true," he acceded, his eyes guarded. "You seem… well informed
about the Cullens. More informed than I expected."

I stared him down. "Maybe even better informed than you are."

He pursed his thick lips as he considered that. "Maybe." he allowed, but
his eyes were shrewd. "Is Charlie as well informed?"

He had found the weak chink in my armor.

"Charlie likes the Cullens a lot," I hedged. He clearly understood my
evasion. His expression was unhappy, but unsurprised.

"It's not my business," he said. "But it may be Charlie's."

"Though it would be my business, again, whether or not I think that it's
Charlie's business, right?"

I wondered if he even understood my confused question as I struggled not
to say anything compromising. But he seemed to. He thought about it while
the rain picked up against the roof, the only sound breaking the silence.

"Yes," he finally surrendered. "I guess that's your business, too."

I sighed with relief. "Thanks, Billy."

"Just think about what you're doing, Bella," he urged.

"Okay," I agreed quickly.

He frowned. "What I meant to say was, don't do what you're doing."

I looked into his eyes, filled with nothing but concern for me, and there
was nothing I could say.

Just then the front door banged loudly, and I jumped at the sound.

"There's no picture anywhere in that car." Jacob's complaining voice
reached us before he did. The shoulders of his shirt were stained with
the rain, his hair dripping, when he rounded the corner.

"Hmm," Billy grunted, suddenly detached, spinning his chair around to
face his son. "I guess I left it at home."

Jacob rolled his eyes dramatically. "Great."

"Well, Bella, tell Charlie" — Billy paused before continuing — "that we
stopped by, I mean."

"I will," I muttered.

Jacob was surprised. "Are we leaving already?"

"Charlie's gonna be out late," Billy explained as he rolled himself past
Jacob.

"Oh." Jacob looked disappointed. "Well, I guess I'll see you later, then,

Bella."

"Sure," I agreed.

"Take care," Billy warned me. I didn't answer.

Jacob helped his father out the door. I waved briefly, glancing swiftly
toward my now-empty truck, and then shut the door before they were gone.

I stood in the hallway for a minute, listening to the sound of their car
as it backed out and drove away. I stayed where I was, waiting for the
irritation and anxiety to subside. When the tension eventually faded a
bit, I headed upstairs to change out of my dressy clothes.

I tried on a couple of different tops, not sure what to expect tonight.
As I concentrated on what was coming, what had just passed became
insignificant. Now that I was removed from Jasper's and Edward's
influence, I began to make up for not being terrified before. I gave up
quickly on choosing an outfit — throwing on an old flannel shirt and
jeans — knowing I would be in my raincoat all night anyway.

The phone rang and I sprinted downstairs to get it. There was only one
voice I wanted to hear; anything else would be a disappointment. But I
knew that if he wanted to talk to me, he'd probably just materialize in
my room.

"Hello?" I asked, breathless.

"Bella? It's me," Jessica said.

"Oh, hey, Jess." I scrambled for a moment to come back down to reality.
It felt like months rather than days since I'd spoken to Jess. "How was
the dance?"

"It was so much fun!" Jessica gushed. Needing no more invitation than
that, she launched into a minute-by-minute account of the previous night.
I mmm'd and ahh'd at the right places, but it wasn't easy to concentrate.
Jessica, Mike, the dance, the school — they all seemed strangely
irrelevant at the moment. My eyes kept flashing to the window, trying to
judge the degree of light behind the heavy clouds.

"Did you hear what I said, Bella?" Jess asked, irritated.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, Mike kissed me! Can you believe it?"

"That's wonderful, Jess," I said.

"So what did you do yesterday?" Jessica challenged, still sounding
bothered by my lack of attention. Or maybe she was upset because I hadn't
asked for details.

"Nothing, really. I just hung around outside to enjoy the sun."

I heard Charlie's car in the garage.

"Did you ever hear anything more from Edward Cullen?"

The front door slammed and I could hear Charlie banging around under the
stairs, putting his tackle away.

"Um." I hesitated, not sure what my story was anymore.

"Hi there, kiddo!" Charlie called as he walked into the kitchen. I waved
at him.

Jess heard his voice. "Oh, your dad's there. Never mind — we'll talk
tomorrow. See you in Trig."

"See ya, Jess." I hung up the phone.

"Hey, Dad," I said. He was scrubbing his hands in the sink. "Where's the
fish?"

"I put it out in the freezer."

"I'll go grab a few pieces before they freeze — Billy dropped off some of
Harry Clearwater's fish fry this afternoon." I worked to sound
enthusiastic.

"He did?" Charlie's eyes lit up. "That's my favorite."

Charlie cleaned up while I got dinner ready. It didn't take long till we
were sitting at the table, eating in silence. Charlie was enjoying his
food. I was wondering desperately how to fulfill my assignment,
struggling to think of a way to broach the subject.

"What did you do with yourself today?" he asked, snapping me out of my
reverie.

"Well, this afternoon I just hung out around the house…" Only the very
recent part of this afternoon, actually. I tried to keep my voice upbeat,
but my stomach was hollow. "And this morning I was over at the Cullens'."

Charlie dropped his fork.

"Dr. Cullen's place?" he asked in astonishment.

I pretended not to notice his reaction. "Yeah."

"What were you doing there?" He hadn't picked his fork back up.

"Well, I sort of have a date with Edward Cullen tonight, and he wanted to
introduce me to his parents… Dad?"

It appeared that Charlie was having an aneurysm.

"Dad, are you all right?"

"You are going out with Edward Cullen?" he thundered.

Uh-oh. "I thought you liked the Cullens."

"He's too old for you," he ranted.

"We're both juniors," I corrected, though he was more right than he
dreamed.

"Wait…" He paused. "Which one is Edwin?"

"Edward is the youngest, the one with the reddish brown hair." The
beautiful one, the godlike one…

"Oh, well, that's" — he struggled — "better, I guess. I don't like the
look of that big one. I'm sure he's a nice boy and all, but he looks too…
mature for you. Is this Edwin your boyfriend?"

"It's Edward, Dad."

"Is he?"

"Sort of, I guess."

"You said last night that you weren't interested in any of the boys in
town." But he picked up his fork again, so I could see the worst was over.

"Well, Edward doesn't live in town, Dad."

He gave me a disparaging look as he chewed.

"And, anyways," I continued, "it's kind of at an early stage, you know.
Don't embarrass me with all the boyfriend talk, okay?"

"When is he coming over?"

"He'll be here in a few minutes."

"Where is he taking you?"

I groaned loudly. "I hope you're getting the Spanish Inquisition out of
your system now. We're going to play baseball with his family."

His face puckered, and then he finally chuckled. "You're playing
baseball?"

"Well, I'll probably watch most of the time."

"You must really like this guy," he observed suspiciously.

I sighed and rolled my eyes for his benefit.

I heard the roar of an engine pull up in front of the house. I jumped up
and started cleaning my dishes.

"Leave the dishes, I can do them tonight. You baby me too much."

The doorbell rang, and Charlie stalked off to answer it. I was half a
step behind him.

I hadn't realized how hard it was pouring outside. Edward stood in the
halo of the porch light, looking like a male model in an advertisement
for raincoats.

"Come on in, Edward."

I breathed a sigh of relief when Charlie got his name right.

"Thanks, Chief Swan," Edward said in a respectful voice.

"Go ahead and call me Charlie. Here, I'll take your jacket."

"Thanks, sir."

"Have a seat there, Edward."

I grimaced.

Edward sat down fluidly in the only chair, forcing me to sit next to
Chief Swan on the sofa. I quickly shot him a dirty look. He winked behind
Charlie's back.

"So I hear you're getting my girl to watch baseball." Only in Washington
would the fact that it was raining buckets have no bearing at all on the
playing of outdoor sports.

"Yes, sir, that's the plan." He didn't look surprised that I'd told my
father the truth. He might have been listening, though.

"Well, more power to you, I guess."

Charlie laughed, and Edward joined in.

"Okay." I stood up. "Enough humor at my expense. Let's go." I walked back
to the hall and pulled on my jacket. They followed.

"Not too late, Bell."

"Don't worry, Charlie, I'll have her home early," Edward promised.

"You take care of my girl, all right?"

I groaned, but they ignored me.

"She'll be safe with me, I promise, sir."

Charlie couldn't doubt Edward's sincerity, it rang in every word.

I stalked out. They both laughed, and Edward followed me.

I stopped dead on the porch. There, behind my truck, was a monster Jeep.
Its tires were higher than my waist. There were metal guards over the
headlights and tail-lights, and four large spotlights attached to the
crash bar. The hardtop was shiny red.

Charlie let out a low whistle.

"Wear your seat belts," he choked out.

Edward followed me around to my side and opened the door. I gauged the
distance to the seat and prepared to jump for it. He sighed, and then
lifted me in with one hand. I hoped Charlie didn't notice.

As he went around to the driver's side, at a normal, human pace, I tried
to put on my seat belt. But there were too many buckles.

"What's all this?" I asked when he opened the door.

"It's an off-roading harness."

"Uh-oh."

I tried to find the right places for all the buckles to fit, but it
wasn't going too quickly. He sighed again and reached over to help me. I
was glad that the rain was too heavy to see Charlie clearly on the porch.
That meant he couldn't see how Edward's hands lingered at my neck,
brushed along my collarbones. I gave up trying to help him and focused on
not hyperventilating.

Edward turned the key and the engine roared to life. We pulled away from
the house.

"This is a… um… big Jeep you have."

"It's Emmett's. I didn't think you'd want to run the whole way."

"Where do you keep this thing?"

"We remodeled one of the outbuildings into a garage."

"Aren't you going to put on your seat belt?"

He threw me a disbelieving look.

Then something sunk in.

"Run the whole way? As in, we're still going to run part of the way?" My
voice edged up a few octaves.

He grinned tightly. "You're not going to run."

"I'm going to be sick."

"Keep your eyes closed, you'll be fine."

I bit my lip, fighting the panic.

He leaned over to kiss the top of my head, and then groaned. I looked at
him, puzzled.

"You smell so good in the rain," he explained.

"In a good way, or in a bad way?" I asked cautiously.

He sighed. "Both, always both."

I don't know how he found his way in the gloom and downpour, but he
somehow found a side road that was less of a road and more of a mountain

path. For a long while conversation was impossible, because I was
bouncing up and down on the seat like a jackhammer. He seemed to enjoy
the ride, though, smiling hugely the whole way.

And then we came to the end of the road; the trees formed green walls on
three sides of the Jeep. The rain was a mere drizzle, slowing every
second, the sky brighter through the clouds.

"Sorry, Bella, we have to go on foot from here."

"You know what? I'll just wait here."

"What happened to all your courage? You were extraordinary this morning."

"I haven't forgotten the last time yet." Could it have been only
yesterday?

He was around to my side of the car in a blur. He started unbuckling me.

"I'll get those, you go on ahead," I protested.

"Hmmm…" he mused as he quickly finished. "It seems I'm going to have to
tamper with your memory."

Before I could react, he pulled me from the Jeep and set my feet on the
ground. It was barely misting now; Alice was going to be right.

"Tamper with my memory?" I asked nervously.

"Something like that." He was watching me intently, carefully, but there
was humor deep in his eyes. He placed his hands against the Jeep on
either side of my head and leaned forward, forcing me to press back
against the door. He leaned in even closer, his face inches from mine. I
had no room to escape.

"Now," he breathed, and just his smell disturbed my thought processes,
"what exactly are you worrying about?"

"Well, um, hitting a tree —" I gulped "— and dying. And then getting
sick."

He fought back a smile. Then he bent his head down and touched his cold
lips softly to the hollow at the base of my throat.

"Are you still worried now?" he murmured against my skin.

"Yes." I struggled to concentrate. "About hitting trees and getting sick."

His nose drew a line up the skin of my throat to the point of my chin.
His cold breath tickled my skin.

"And now?" His lips whispered against my jaw.

"Trees," I gasped. "Motion sickness."

He lifted his face to kiss my eyelids. "Bella, you don't really think I
would hit a tree, do you?"

"No, but I might." There was no confidence in my voice. He smelled an
easy victory.

He kissed slowly down my cheek, stopping just at the corner of my mouth.

"Would I let a tree hurt you?" His lips barely brushed against my
trembling lower lip.

"No," I breathed. I knew there was a second part to my brilliant defense,
but I couldn't quite call it back.

"You see," he said, his lips moving against mine. "There's nothing to be
afraid of, is there?"

"No," I sighed, giving up.

Then he took my face in his hands almost roughly, and kissed me in
earnest, his unyielding lips moving against mine.

There really was no excuse for my behavior. Obviously I knew better by
now. And yet I couldn't seem to stop from reacting exactly as I had the
first time. Instead of keeping safely motionless, my arms reached up to
twine tightly around his neck, and I was suddenly welded to his stone
figure. I sighed, and my lips parted.

He staggered back, breaking my grip effortlessly.

"Damn it, Bella!" he broke off, gasping. "You'll be the death of me, I
swear you will."

I leaned over, bracing my hands against my knees for support.

"You're indestructible," I mumbled, trying to catch my breath.

"I might have believed that before I met you. Now let's get out of here
before I do something really stupid," he growled.

He threw me across his back as he had before, and I could see the extra
effort it took for him to be as gentle as he was. I locked my legs around
his waist and secured my arms in a choke hold around his neck.

"Don't forget to close your eyes," he warned severely.

I quickly tucked my face into his shoulder blade, under my own arm, and
squeezed my eyes shut.

And I could hardly tell we were moving. I could feel him gliding along
beneath me, but he could have been strolling down the sidewalk, the
movement was so smooth. I was tempted to peek, just to see if he was
really flying through the forest like before, but I resisted. It wasn't
worth that awful dizziness. I contented myself with listening to his
breath come and go evenly.

I wasn't quite sure we had stopped until he reached back and touched my
hair.

"It's over, Bella."

I dared to open my eyes, and, sure enough, we were at a standstill. I
stiffly unlocked my stranglehold on his body and slipped to the ground,
landing on my backside.

"Oh!" I huffed as I hit the wet ground.

He stared at me incredulously, evidently not sure whether he was still
too mad to find me funny. But my bewildered expression pushed him over
the edge, and he broke into a roar of laughter.

I picked myself up, ignoring him as I brushed the mud and bracken off the
back of my jacket. That only made him laugh harder. Annoyed, I began to
stride off into the forest.

I felt his arm around my waist.

"Where are you going, Bella?"

"To watch a baseball game. You don't seem to be interested in playing
anymore, but I'm sure the others will have fun without you."

"You're going the wrong way."

I turned around without looking at him, and stalked off in the opposite
direction. He caught me again.

"Don't be mad, I couldn't help myself. You should have seen your face."
He chuckled before he could stop himself.

"Oh, you're the only one who's allowed to get mad?" I asked, raising my
eyebrows.

"I wasn't mad at you."

"'Bella, you'll be the death of me'?" I quoted sourly.

"That was simply a statement of fact."

I tried to turn away from him again, but he held me fast.

"You were mad," I insisted.

"Yes."

"But you just said —"

"That I wasn't mad at you. Can't you see that, Bella?" He was suddenly
intense, all trace of teasing gone. "Don't you understand?"

"See what?" I demanded, confused by his sudden mood swing as much as his
words.

"I'm never angry with you — how could I be? Brave, trusting… warm as you
are."

"Then why?" I whispered, remembering the black moods that pulled him away
from me, that I'd always interpreted as well-justified frustration —
frustration at my weakness, my slowness, my unruly human reactions…

He put his hands carefully on both sides of my face. "I infuriate
myself," he said gently. "The way I can't seem to keep from putting you
in danger. My very existence puts you at risk. Sometimes I truly hate
myself. I should be stronger, I should be able to —"

I placed my hand over his mouth. "Don't."

He took my hand, moving it from his lips, but holding it to his face.

"I love you," he said. "It's a poor excuse for what I'm doing, but it's
still true."

It was the first time he'd said he loved me — in so many words. He might
not realize it, but I certainly did.

"Now, please try to behave yourself," he continued, and he bent to softly
brush his lips against mine.

I held properly still. Then I sighed.

"You promised Chief Swan that you would have me home early, remember?
We'd better get going."

"Yes, ma'am."

He smiled wistfully and released all of me but one hand. He led me a few
feet through the tall, wet ferns and draping moss, around a massive
hemlock tree, and we were there, on the edge of an enormous open field in
the lap of the Olympic peaks. It was twice the size of any baseball
stadium.

I could see the others all there; Esme, Emmett, and Rosalie, sitting on a
bare outcropping of rock, were the closest to us, maybe a hundred yards
away. Much farther out I could see Jasper and Alice, at least a quarter
of a mile apart, appearing to throw something back and forth, but I never
saw any ball. It looked like Carlisle was marking bases, but could they
really be that far apart?

When we came into view, the three on the rocks rose.

Esme started toward us. Emmett followed after a long look at Rosalie's

back; Rosalie had risen gracefully and strode off toward the field
without a glance in our direction. My stomach quivered uneasily in
response.

"Was that you we heard, Edward?" Esme asked as she approached.

"It sounded like a bear choking," Emmett clarified.

I smiled hesitantly at Esme. "That was him."

"Bella was being unintentionally funny," Edward explained, quickly
settling the score.

Alice had left her position and was running, or dancing, toward us. She
hurtled to a fluid stop at our feet. "It's time," she announced.

As soon as she spoke, a deep rumble of thunder shook the forest beyond
us, and then crashed westward toward town.

"Eerie, isn't it?" Emmett said with easy familiarity, winking at me.

"Let's go." Alice reached for Emmett's hand and they darted toward the
oversized field; she ran like a gazelle. He was nearly as graceful and
just as fast — yet Emmett could never be compared to a gazelle.

"Are you ready for some ball?" Edward asked, his eyes eager, bright.

I tried to sound appropriately enthusiastic. "Go team!"

He snickered and, after mussing my hair, bounded off after the other two.
His run was more aggressive, a cheetah rather than a gazelle, and he
quickly overtook them. The grace and power took my breath away.

"Shall we go down?" Esme asked in her soft, melodic voice, and I realized
I was staring openmouthed after him. I quickly reassembled my expression
and nodded. Esme kept a few feet between us, and I wondered if she was
still being careful not to frighten me. She matched her stride to mine
without seeming impatient at the pace.

"You don't play with them?" I asked shyly.

"No, I prefer to referee — I like keeping them honest," she explained.

"Do they like to cheat, then?"

"Oh yes — you should hear the arguments they get into! Actually, I hope
you don't, you would think they were raised by a pack of wolves."

"You sound like my mom," I laughed, surprised.

She laughed, too. "Well, I do think of them as my children in most ways.
I never could get over my mothering instincts — did Edward tell you I had
lost a child?"

"No," I murmured, stunned, scrambling to understand what lifetime she was
remembering.

"Yes, my first and only baby. He died just a few days after he was born,
the poor tiny thing," she sighed. "It broke my heart — that's why I
jumped off the cliff, you know," she added matter-of-factly.

"Edward just said you f-fell," I stammered.

"Always the gentleman." She smiled. "Edward was the first of my new sons.
I've always thought of him that way, even though he's older than I, in
one way at least." She smiled at me warmly. "That's why I'm so happy that
he's found you, dear." The endearment sounded very natural on her lips.
"He's been the odd man out for far too long; it's hurt me to see him
alone."

"You don't mind, then?" I asked, hesitant again. "That I'm… all wrong for
him?"

"No." She was thoughtful. "You're what he wants. It will work out,
somehow," she said, though her forehead creased with worry. Another peal
of thunder began.

Esme stopped then; apparently, we'd reached the edge of the field. It
looked as if they had formed teams. Edward was far out in left field,
Carlisle stood between the first and second bases, and Alice held the
ball, positioned on the spot that must be the pitcher's mound.

Emmett was swinging an aluminum bat; it whistled almost untraceably
through the air. I waited for him to approach home plate, but then I
realized, as he took his stance, that he was already there — farther from
the pitcher's mound than I would have thought possible. Jasper stood
several feet behind him, catching for the other team. Of course, none of
them had gloves.

"All right," Esme called in a clear voice, which I knew even Edward would
hear, as far out as he was. "Batter up."

Alice stood straight, deceptively motionless. Her style seemed to be
stealth rather than an intimidating windup. She held the ball in both
hands at her waist, and then, like the strike of a cobra, her right hand
flicked out and the ball smacked into Jasper's hand.

"Was that a strike?" I whispered to Esme.

"If they don't hit it, it's a strike," she told me.

Jasper hurled the ball back to Alice's waiting hand. She permitted
herself a brief grin. And then her hand spun out again.

This time the bat somehow made it around in time to smash into the
invisible ball. The crack of impact was shattering, thunderous; it echoed
off the mountains — I immediately understood the necessity of the
thunderstorm.

The ball shot like a meteor above the field, flying deep into the
surrounding forest.

"Home run," I murmured.

"Wait," Esme cautioned, listening intently, one hand raised. Emmett was a
blur around the bases, Carlisle shadowing him. I realized Edward was
missing.

"Out!" Esme cried in a clear voice. I stared in disbelief as Edward
sprang from the fringe of the trees, ball in his upraised hand, his wide
grin visible even to me.

"Emmett hits the hardest," Esme explained, "but Edward runs the fastest."

The inning continued before my incredulous eyes. It was impossible to
keep up with the speed at which the ball flew, the rate at which their
bodies raced around the field.

I learned the other reason they waited for a thunderstorm to play when
Jasper, trying to avoid Edward's infallible fielding, hit a ground ball
toward Carlisle. Carlisle ran into the ball, and then raced Jasper to
first base. When they collided, the sound was like the crash of two
massive falling boulders. I jumped up in concern, but they were somehow
unscathed.

"Safe," Esme called in a calm voice.

Emmett's team was up by one — Rosalie managed to flit around the bases
after tagging up on one of Emmett's long flies — when Edward caught the
third out. He sprinted to my side, sparkling with excitement.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"One thing's for sure, I'll never be able to sit through dull old Major

League Baseball again."

"And it sounds like you did so much of that before," he laughed.

"I am a little disappointed," I teased.

"Why?" he asked, puzzled.

"Well, it would be nice if I could find just one thing you didn't do
better than everyone else on the planet."

He flashed his special crooked smile, leaving me breathless.

"I'm up," he said, heading for the plate.

He played intelligently, keeping the ball low, out of the reach of
Rosalie's always-ready hand in the outfield, gaining two bases like
lightning before Emmett could get the ball back in play. Carlisle knocked
one so far out of the field — with a boom that hurt my ears — that he and
Edward both made it in. Alice slapped them dainty high fives.

The score constantly changed as the game continued, and they razzed each
other like any street ballplayers as they took turns with the lead.
Occasionally Esme would call them to order. The thunder rumbled on, but
we stayed dry, as Alice had predicted.

Carlisle was up to bat, Edward catching, when Alice suddenly gasped. My
eyes were on Edward, as usual, and I saw his head snap up to look at her.
Their eyes met and something flowed between them in an instant. He was at
my side before the others could ask Alice what was wrong.

"Alice?" Esme's voice was tense.

"I didn't see — I couldn't tell," she whispered.

All the others were gathered by this time.

"What is it, Alice?" Carlisle asked with the calm voice of authority.

"They were traveling much quicker than I thought. I can see I had the
perspective wrong before," she murmured.

Jasper leaned over her, his posture protective. "What changed?" he asked.

"They heard us playing, and it changed their path," she said, contrite,
as if she felt responsible for whatever had frightened her.

Seven pairs of quick eyes flashed to my face and away.

"How soon?" Carlisle said, turning toward Edward.

A look of intense concentration crossed his face.

"Less than five minutes. They're running — they want to play." He scowled.

"Can you make it?" Carlisle asked him, his eyes flicking toward me again.

"No, not carrying —" He cut short. "Besides, the last thing we need is
for them to catch the scent and start hunting."

"How many?" Emmett asked Alice.

"Three," she answered tersely.

"Three!" he scoffed. "Let them come." The steel bands of muscle flexed
along his massive arms.

For a split second that seemed much longer than it really was, Carlisle
deliberated. Only Emmett seemed unperturbed; the rest stared at
Carlisle's face with anxious eyes.

"Let's just continue the game," Carlisle finally decided. His voice was

cool and level. "Alice said they were simply curious."

All this was said in a flurry of words that lasted only a few seconds. I
had listened carefully and caught most of it, though I couldn't hear what
Esme now asked Edward with a silent vibration of her lips. I only saw the
slight shake of his head and the look of relief on her face.

"You catch, Esme," he said. "I'll call it now." And he planted himself in
front of me.

The others returned to the field, warily sweeping the dark forest with
their sharp eyes. Alice and Esme seemed to orient themselves around where
I stood.

"Take your hair down," Edward said in a low, even voice.

I obediently slid the rubber band out of my hair and shook it out around
me.

I stated the obvious. "The others are coming now."

"Yes, stay very still, keep quiet, and don't move from my side, please."
He hid the stress in his voice well, but I could hear it. He pulled my
long hair forward, around my face.

"That won't help," Alice said softly. "I could smell her across the
field."

"I know." A hint of frustration colored his tone.

Carlisle stood at the plate, and the others joined the game halfheartedly.

"What did Esme ask you?" I whispered.

He hesitated for a second before he answered. "Whether they were
thirsty," he muttered unwillingly.

The seconds ticked by; the game progressed with apathy now. No one dared
to hit harder than a bunt, and Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper hovered in the
infield. Now and again, despite the fear that numbed my brain, I was
aware of Rosalie's eyes on me. They were expressionless, but something
about the way she held her mouth made me think she was angry.

Edward paid no attention to the game at all, eyes and mind ranging the
forest.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he muttered fiercely. "It was stupid, irresponsible,
to expose you like this. I'm so sorry."

I heard his breath stop, and his eyes zeroed in on right field. He took a
half step, angling himself between me and what was coming.

Carlisle, Emmett, and the others turned in the same direction, hearing
sounds of passage much too faint for my ears.
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离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
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第十六章 卡莱尔
第十六章 卡莱尔

他把我带回了那个他指点过的房间，卡莱尔的办公室。他只在房门外停顿了一瞬。

“进来。”卡莱尔的声音邀请道。

爱德华打开了门。这是一间有着高高的天花板，和朝西的长窗的屋子。墙面上也镶嵌着木嵌板，是一种颜色更深的木头——能看见的墙面都是这样的。而大部分的墙面都被高耸过我头顶的书架挡住了。这里面的藏书甚至比我在外头见到的一座图书馆的书还要多。

卡莱尔坐在一张巨大的桃心木书桌后，坐在一张皮椅上。他正把一张书签放进他手里的一册厚厚的书里。这间屋子是我想象过的一个大学校长的办公室的样子——只不过卡莱尔太年轻了，和这里不太相称。

“我能为你们做些什么？”他从座位上站起来，和蔼地问道。

“我想向贝拉展示一些我们的历史，”爱德华说道。“嗯，事实上，是你的历史。”

“我们并非有意要打扰您的。”我道歉道。

“没关系。你们打算从哪段听起？”

“御夫座。”爱德华答道，轻轻地把一只手放到我的肩膀上，让我转过身去面向我们刚刚走进来的那个门。每次他触碰我的时候，哪怕是再寻常不过的接触，我的心都会作出清晰可闻的反应。更何况还有卡莱尔在旁边，这就更令人尴尬了。
现在我们正对着的这面墙和别的墙都不一样。这面墙上没有书架，却挂满了各种尺寸的镶着相框的照片。有些是模糊生硬的彩色照片，另一些则是黯淡的黑白照片。我试图找出某种逻辑，某个这些收藏品所共有的主题，但在我匆忙的审视中，我没有任何发现。

爱德华把我拉到了最左边，让我站到了一张装裱在一个简朴的木框里的小小的方形油画前。这幅油画在众多尺寸更大，颜色更鲜亮的油画里并不显眼，它是用各种色调的深褐色画成的。它描绘了一个微缩的城市，那里到处是陡峭的斜屋顶，散落在各处的几座高塔露出窄窄的塔尖。一条宽广的河流填满了远景，河上横跨着一座桥梁，桥上布满了看上去像是小巧的教堂的建筑。

“十七世纪五十年代的伦敦。”爱德华说道。

“我年少时的伦敦。”卡莱尔补充道，他站在离我们只有几英尺远的地方。我畏缩了一下，我根本没听到他走近的声音。爱德华紧握住我的手。

“你愿意讲这个故事吗？”爱德华问道。我稍微转过头，想看看卡莱尔的反应。

他对上了我的目光，笑了起来。“我很乐意。”他回答道。“但我确实有点赶时间。医院今天早上给我打了电话——斯诺医生请了一天病假。另外，你对这个故事的熟悉程度不亚于我。”他补充道，瞥了一眼爱德华。  

这实在是个奇怪的难于理解的混合体——那位每天关心着镇上事务的医生正陷于关于他早年在十七世纪的伦敦的经历的讨论之中。

知道他是为了我才这样大声说话，也是件让人困扰的事。

卡莱尔再次向我温和地一笑，然后离开了房间。

我看着这张小小的关于卡莱尔的家乡的图画，看了许久。

“后来发生了什么？”我最终问道，抬头看着爱德华，他正注视着我。“在他意识到自己发生了什么事以后？”
他看回了那些油画上，而我看到了是什么样的图画吸引了他的兴趣。那是一张更大的风景画，用各种黯淡的秋色画成的——森林中的一片空荡荡的，晦暗的草地，远处是一座险峻的山峰。

“当他知道自己变成了什么以后，”爱德华安静地说道。“他十分厌恶这一点。他试图毁灭自己。但这不是件容易的事？”

“怎样？”我并不是有意要这样大声地说出来的，但这些话在震惊中冲口而出。  


“他从很高的海拔上跳了下来。”爱德华告诉我，他的声音很冷淡。
“他试图把自己溺死在海里……但他刚刚经历了新生，非常年轻，也非常强壮。最惊人的是他居然能够忍耐住……不进食……在他还是新手的时候。那时那种本能会更为强烈，几乎可以征服一切。但他是如此地厌恶自己，他的信念是如此地坚强，居然想要饿死自己。”

“这可能吗？”我的声音很微弱。

“不，没有多少方法能杀死我们。”

我张开嘴想要提问，但在我出声以前他就说话了。

“所以他非常的饥饿，而且最终虚弱起来。他在远离人群的地方流浪，他认识到自己的意志力也在变得薄弱。一连好几个月他在夜里游荡着，寻找着最孤寂的地方，嫌恶着自己。”

“一天晚上，一群野鹿经过了他隐藏的地方。他因为饥渴而变得狂暴，于是不假思索地袭击了它们。他恢复了强壮，然后意识到他还有一个选择，可以不必变成他所惧怕的卑鄙的怪物。他的前生难道没有吃过鹿肉吗？之后的一个多月里他新的人生观形成了。他可以活下去，而不必成为一个魔鬼。他又找回了他自己。”

“他开始更好地利用他的时间。他总是那么的聪明，充满了求知欲。现在他有了无穷无尽的时间。他在夜间学习，在白天做计划。他游到了法国，然后——”

“他游到法国？”

“人们一直都能游过那道海峡，贝拉。”他耐心地提醒我。

“我猜，这倒是真的。只是在这样的上下文里听到它实在是很有趣。继续。”

“游泳对我们来说是件轻而易举的事——”

“每件事对你来说都是轻而易举。”我死咬着不放。

他在等待着，他的表情有些发笑。

“我不会再打断你了，我保证。”

他阴暗地轻笑起来，然后继续说完他的话。“因为，就技术层面而言，我们不需要呼吸。”

“你——”

“不，不，你保证过的。”他大笑起来，伸出一根冰冷的手指轻轻点住我的唇。“你想不想听故事了？”

“你不能像这样忽然向我提起某件事，然后又不许我说话。”我在他的手指下喃喃低语着。

他移开他的手，挪到我的颈窝上。我的心跳速度立刻做出了反应，但我依然坚持着。

“你不需要呼吸？”我诘问道。

“不，这毫无必要。只是一种习惯。”他耸耸肩。

“你能走多远……如果不呼吸？”

“我猜，不能确定。我不知道。这会有点不舒服——不能闻到味道。”

“有点不舒服。”我随声附和着。

我没太注意自己的表情，但这让他阴沉起来。他收回了手，一动不动地站着，他的眼睛紧张地看着我的脸。沉默在延续着。他的五官凝固成了石像。

“怎么了？”我低声说着，轻抚着他僵住的脸。

他的脸在我的手下柔和起来，他叹息着：“我依然等着它发生。”

“等着什么发生？”

“我知道总会有那么一刻，我告诉你的某件事，或者你看到的某件事，将会超出你的承受范围。然后你就会从我身旁逃开，尖叫着逃走。”他半笑着说道，但他的眼神依然很认真。“我不会阻止你。我想要这样的事情发生，因为我想让你安全些。但是，我还是想和你在一起。这两个愿望根本无法调和……”他打住了话头，看着我的脸，等待着。

“我哪里也不会去的。”我保证道。

“我们等着瞧。”他说着，又笑了起来。

他顿了顿，又回到了他的故事。他转过身去看向了另一幅画面——所有画里最色彩斑斓的一幅，装裱得最为华丽的，也是最巨大的。它紧挨着门挂着，是门的两倍宽。那幅油画里溢满了穿着波浪纹的学士服的欢快的人物，他们有的站在长柱周围，有的站在大理石的阳台上。我说不清这是否代表了某个希腊神话，或者这些漫步在云端之上的人物是否出自圣经故事。

“卡莱尔游到了法国，然后继续在欧洲游历，访问那里的学府。夜里他研究音乐，科学，和医学——然后从中发现了他的职业，他的苦修，他可以拯救人类的生命。”他的神情变得敬畏，几近虔诚。“我无法恰当地描述这种挣扎。卡莱尔经过了两个世纪的痛苦的努力才完善了他的自我控制。现在他可以完全对人类血液的味道免疫，可以不受任何困扰地做他所热爱的工作。他从中找到了长久的平和感，在医院里……”爱德华移开视线，盯着空气，看了许久。忽然他似乎想起了自己的目的，他指点着我们面前的那幅巨大的画。

“他在意大利求学的时候，遇到了那里的其他人。他们比伦敦下水道里的那些幽灵更加开化，更有教养。”

他触到画在最高的阳台上的，看起来相对稳重的那四个人，沉着地低下头看着他们之下的一片混乱。我仔细地审视那群人，然后恍然大悟，吃惊地大笑起来，因为我认出了那个金发的男人。

“索利梅纳的灵感被卡莱尔的朋友大大地激发了，他经常把他们画成天神。”爱德华轻笑起来。“阿罗，马库斯，凯厄斯，”他说着，指点着另外三个人，两个是黑发，一个是如雪白发。“艺术的夜间保护人。”

“他们发生了什么事？”我大声提问道，我的指尖在离油画上的人物只有一公分的地方徘徊着。

“他们还在那里。”他耸耸肩。“他们在那里不知道待了几千年。卡莱尔只和他们待了很短的一段时间，只有几十年。他非常地钦佩他们的礼貌，他们的高尚，但他们固执地试图治愈他对‘他天生的食物来源’的厌恶，他们是这样称呼的。他们试图说服他，而他也试图说服他们，但双方都没有收到效果。在那时，卡莱尔决定去新世界试试。他梦想着能找到别的像他自己这样的人。他非常地孤独，你知道。

在很长一段时间里，他没有找到任何人。但是，随着怪物逐渐成为神话故事的内容，他发现自己可以毫无芥蒂地和没有戒心的人类相处，就好像他是他们之间的一员一样。他开始实践自己的医术。但他所渴望的伙伴关系依然躲着他，他不敢冒任何风险，去尝试亲密的关系。”

“当西班牙流感开始蔓延的时候，他在芝加哥的一家医院里上夜班。他心里有一个想法，已经形成了许多年了，他也几乎已经决定要去付诸行动了——既然他找不到志同道合的人，他可以自己创造一个。他不能完全肯定自己的转变是否能够顺利进行，所以他一直犹豫着。而且他不情愿去偷走别人的人生，就像他自己被偷走了人生一样。在他发现我的时候，他的想法成型了。我已经没救了，和一群奄奄一息的人待在一个病房里。他看护过我的父母，知道我已经成了孤儿。他决定试一试……”

他的声音，现在几近耳语，终于停住了。他视若无睹地向西边的窗外望去。我想知道充斥在他脑子里的是什么样的画面，是卡莱尔的回忆还是他自己的。我安静地等待着。

当他回过头来看向我时，一种温柔的天使般的微笑点亮了他的神情。

“所以现在我们又回到了开始的地方。”他作出了结语。    

“那么，你一直都跟卡莱尔在一起吗？”我想知道。

“大部分时候是。”他轻柔地把手放到我的腰间，拥着我向门外走去。我回头看着那满墙的照片，想知道我是否听到其它的故事。

当我们走过走廊的时候，爱德华只字不提，所以我问道。“大部分？”

他叹了口气，似乎很不情愿回答。“好吧，我有过一段典型的青春期中的叛逆期——大约在我……新生……被创造出来的十年之后，你想怎么称呼都行。我对他那种禁欲的生活不感兴趣，而且我厌恶他遏制我的欲望。所以我离开了，独自过活了一段时间。”

“真的？”我被激起的好奇远胜于我的惊讶，也超出了我应该好奇的程度。

他能分辨出来。我隐隐约约地意识到我们正在走上通往另一层的楼梯，但我完全没有注意到自己周围的环境。

“那没有击退你吗？”

“没有。”

“为什么没有呢？”

“我猜……这听起来很合理。”

他厉声笑着，比之前笑得还要响。我们现在已经走到了楼梯顶上，站在了另一个镶嵌着木地板的走廊里。

“从我重获新生时起，”他喃喃低语道。“我就获得了知晓周围每一个人的想法的优势，不管对方是否是人类。这就是为什么我在过了十年之后才敢挑衅卡莱尔——我能读到他全然的真挚，确切地理解他为什么要过着这样的生活。”

“但只过了几年，我又回到了卡莱尔身边，重新接受他的观点。那时候我想着，我可以得到解脱的，从那种……沮丧……中得到赦免，并且是伴随着一种良心的产生的沮丧。因为我能知道我的牺牲品的想法，我可以略过那些无辜者，而只去猎食那些坏人。如果我追踪着一个在暗巷里偷偷靠近一个年轻女孩的谋杀犯——如果我救了她，那么的确我就没那么坏了。”

我颤抖着，太过清晰地想象出了他所描述的情景——深夜的小巷，受惊的女孩，尾随着她的那个阴暗的男人。还有爱德华，正在狩猎的爱德华，可怕又威武，宛如一个年轻的神明，不停地追赶着。那个女孩，她会更加感激，还是更加惊恐呢？

“但随着时间的推移，我开始从自己的眼中看见了那个怪物。不管我的行为多么正义，我都无法逃避自己夺走了那么多人命的罪过。然后我回到了卡莱尔和艾思梅的身边。他们热切地欢迎我这个游子归来。这远比我应得的还要多。”

我们停在了走廊尽头的最后一扇门前。

“我的房间。”他向我介绍道，打开门，然后把我拉进去。

他的房间朝南，有整整一面墙的落地窗，就像楼下的那个大房间一样。这栋屋子的后墙一定全是玻璃。他的视野囊括了那条蜿蜒的Sol Duc河，一直穿过那片未被涉足过的密林，直到奥林匹亚山脉。这片山脉比我相信的还要更近些。

西面的墙上摆满了一个接一个架子的CD。他房间里的库存比一家音像店里的还多。角落里是一套看上去久经世故的音响系统，是那种我不敢轻易触碰的音响，因为我知道我一定会打坏什么东西的。这里没有床，只有一张宽大的让人动心的黑色皮沙发。地上铺着厚厚的金色的地毯，墙上贴满了一种厚重的颜色稍深的织物。

“不错的音响？”我猜测着。

他轻笑起来，点了点头。

他拿起遥控器，打开了音响。这音乐很安静，但这柔和的爵士乐的鼓点听起来就像是那个正在演奏的乐队就在屋里和我们在一起一样。我走过去看他那些令人惊叹的音乐收藏。

“你是怎么把这些编排起来的？”我问道，没法找出这些名称排练的韵律或理由。

他有些走神。

“呃嗯，按年份排，然后每一排按照个人喜好排。”他心不在焉地说着。

我回过头，他正用一种罕见的眼神看着我。

“什么？”

“我原以为我会觉得……很宽慰。让你知道所有的事情，不必再向你保守秘密。但我没想到我会感受到更多。我喜欢这样。这让我感觉……很快乐。”他耸耸肩，轻快地笑着。

“我很高兴。”我说着，报以一笑。我本来还在担心他会后悔告诉我这些事情。知道情况完全不是这回事，感觉真的很好。

但随后，他的眼睛剖析着我的神情，他的微笑消失了，他的额头皱了起来。

“你还在等着我尖叫着跑开，对吗？”我猜测着。

一抹微弱的笑容浮上他的唇，他点了点头。

“我讨厌打破你的幻想，但你真的没有你自己认为的那样可怕。我根本不觉得你可怕，真的。”我若无其事地撒谎道。

他停顿下来，明显是难以置信地扬起了眉毛。然后他露出了一个大大的坏笑。

“你真的不应该这样说的。”他轻笑着说。

他咆哮着，从喉咙深处发出一阵低吼声，他的嘴唇向后蜷起，露出了他完美无瑕的牙齿。他的身形忽然改变了，半蜷伏着身子，紧绷得像一只即将猛扑过来的狮子。

我瞪着他，向后退去。

“你不会这样做的。”

我根本没看见他向我扑过来——这一切太快了。我只发觉自己忽然间就在半空中，然后我们一起撞到了沙发上，把它撞到了墙上。整个过程中，他的手臂一直像一个铁笼子一样保护着我——我没有受到任何冲击。但我依然透不过气来，努力想让自己在沙发上坐起来。

他不让我这样做。他让我蜷伏在他的胸前，缩成了一个球。他的铁臂紧紧地抱住我，比铁链还要牢固。我有些担忧地注视着他，但他显然控制得很好，他的下颌松懈着，咧嘴一笑。他的眼睛很明亮，眼里只有笑意。

“你在说什么？”他开玩笑似的咆哮着。

“我说，你是个非常，非常可怕的怪物。”我说道，但我的讽刺稍有些瑕疵，因为我的声音依然有些喘不过气来。

“这就好多了。”他深表赞许。

“呃嗯，”我挣扎着。“我现在能起来了吗？”

他只是大笑着。

“我们能进来吗？”一个柔和的声音在走廊外响起。

我挣扎着想要挣脱出来，但爱德华只是稍微让我调整了一下，这样我就能用比较正常的姿势坐在他的膝盖上了。我看见，门口的是爱丽丝，还有紧跟在她身后的贾斯帕。我的脸颊灼热起来，但爱德华还是一副怡然自得的样子。

“进来吧。”爱德华依然安静地轻笑着。

爱丽丝似乎不觉得我们的拥抱有任何不寻常之处。她走了进来——几乎是在翩翩起舞，她的动作是那么的优雅——走到了屋子的中间，然后叠起腿蜷坐在地板上。但是，贾斯帕却停在了门外，他的表情有些许震惊。他注视着爱德华的脸，我想知道他是否透过他不同寻常的敏感感受到了这里的气氛。

“听起来你正要把贝拉当成午餐，我们过来看看你是否愿意分一杯羹。”爱丽丝宣布道。

“抱歉，我不相信我还有剩余的可供分享。”他回答道，他的胳膊满不在乎地紧抱着我。

“确实如此。”贾斯帕说着，不再有所顾忌地笑了起来，走进房间里。“爱丽丝说今晚将要有一场真正的暴风雨，艾美特想去打棒球，你来吗？”

这些话很寻常，但它的逻辑关系却让我困惑起来。但我还是抓住了一点，爱丽丝比天气预报员要更可靠些 .
爱德华的眼睛亮了起来，但他踌躇着。

“你当然得带上贝拉。”爱丽丝唧唧喳喳地说着。我想我看见贾斯帕飞快地瞥了她一眼。

“你想去吗？”爱德华兴奋地问着我，他的神情简直是活力四射。

“当然。”我不能让这样一张脸失望。“呃嗯，我们要去哪里？”

“我们得等到雷雨天才能打球——你会看到这是为什么的。”他保证道。

“我需要带把伞吗？”

他们都大笑起来。

“她需要吗？”贾斯帕问爱丽丝。

“不。”她相当肯定。“暴风雨只会横扫整个小镇。那块空地上将会相当干爽。”

“那么，很好。”自然地，贾斯帕话语里的热情很有感染力。我发现自己也热切起来，甚至远甚于恐惧的僵直。

“我们去看看卡莱尔会不会加入。”爱丽丝跳起来，落到门口，她敏捷的动作能让任何一个芭蕾演员心灰意冷。

“就好像你不知道一样。”贾斯帕揶揄着，然后他们鱼贯而出。贾斯帕不引人注目地随手关上了门。

“我们要打什么球？”我盘问道。

“你会看到的，”爱德华澄清道。“我们要打棒球。”

我睁圆了眼睛。“吸血鬼喜欢棒球？”

“这是美国人的消遣。”他假装一本正经地说道。
16. CARLISLE




He led me back to the room that he'd pointed out as Carlisle's office. He
paused outside the door for an instant.

"Come in," Carlisle's voice invited.

Edward opened the door to a high-ceilinged room with tall, west-facing
windows. The walls were paneled again, in a darker wood — where they were
visible. Most of the wall space was taken up by towering bookshelves that
reached high above my head and held more books than I'd ever seen outside
a library.

Carlisle sat behind a huge mahogany desk in a leather chair. He was just
placing a bookmark in the pages of the thick volume he held. The room was
how I'd always imagined a college dean's would look — only Carlisle
looked too young to fit the part.

"What can I do for you?" he asked us pleasantly, rising from his seat.

"I wanted to show Bella some of our history," Edward said. "Well, your
history, actually."

"We didn't mean to disturb you," I apologized.

"Not at all. Where are you going to start?"

"The Waggoner," Edward replied, placing one hand lightly on my shoulder
and spinning me around to look back toward the door we'd just come
through. Every time he touched me, in even the most casual way, my heart
had an audible reaction. It was more embarrassing with Carlisle there.

The wall we faced now was different from the others. Instead of
bookshelves, this wall was crowded with framed pictures of all sizes,
some in vibrant colors, others dull monochromes. I searched for some
logic, some binding motif the collection had in common, but I found
nothing in my hasty examination.

Edward pulled me toward the far left side, standing me in front of a
small square oil painting in a plain wooden frame. This one did not stand
out among the bigger and brighter pieces; painted in varying tones of
sepia, it depicted a miniature city full of steeply slanted roofs, with
thin spires atop a few scattered towers. A wide river filled the
foreground, crossed by a bridge covered with structures that looked like
tiny cathedrals.

"London in the sixteen-fifties," Edward said.

"The London of my youth," Carlisle added, from a few feet behind us. I
flinched; I hadn't heard him approach. Edward squeezed my hand.

"Will you tell the story?" Edward asked. I twisted a little to see
Carlisle's reaction.

He met my glance and smiled. "I would," he replied. "But I'm actually
running a bit late. The hospital called this morning — Dr. Snow is taking
a sick day. Besides, you know the stories as well as I do," he added,
grinning at Edward now.

It was a strange combination to absorb — the everyday concerns of the
town doctor stuck in the middle of a discussion of his early days in
seventeenth-century London.

It was also unsettling to know that he spoke aloud only for my benefit.

After another warm smile for me, Carlisle left the room.

I stared at the little picture of Carlisle's hometown for a long moment.

"What happened then?" I finally asked, staring up at Edward, who was
watching me. "When he realized what had happened to him?"

He glanced back to the paintings, and I looked to see which image caught
his interest now. It was a larger landscape in dull fall colors — an
empty, shadowed meadow in a forest, with a craggy peak in the distance.

"When he knew what he had become," Edward said quietly, "he rebelled
against it. He tried to destroy himself. But that's not easily done."

"How?" I didn't mean to say it aloud, but the word broke through my shock.

"He jumped from great heights," Edward told me, his voice impassive. "He
tried to drown himself in the ocean… but he was young to the new life,
and very strong. It is amazing that he was able to resist… feeding… while
he was still so new. The instinct is more powerful then, it takes over
everything. But he was so repelled by himself that he had the strength to
try to kill himself with starvation."

"Is that possible?" My voice was faint.

"No, there are very few ways we can be killed."

I opened my mouth to ask, but he spoke before I could.

"So he grew very hungry, and eventually weak. He strayed as far as he
could from the human populace, recognizing that his willpower was
weakening, too. For months he wandered by night, seeking the loneliest
places, loathing himself.

"One night, a herd of deer passed his hiding place. He was so wild with
thirst that he attacked without a thought. His strength returned and he
realized there was an alternative to being the vile monster he feared.
Had he not eaten venison in his former life? Over the next months his new
philosophy was born. He could exist without being a demon. He found
himself again.

"He began to make better use of his time. He'd always been intelligent,
eager to learn. Now he had unlimited time before him. He studied by
night, planned by day. He swam to France and —"

"He swam to France?"

"People swim the Channel all the time, Bella," he reminded me patiently.

"That's true, I guess. It just sounded funny in that context. Go on."

"Swimming is easy for us —"

"Everything is easy for you," I griped.

He waited, his expression amused.

"I won't interrupt again, I promise."

He chuckled darkly, and finished his sentence. "Because, technically, we
don't need to breathe."

"You —"

"No, no, you promised." He laughed, putting his cold finger lightly to my
lips. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"You can't spring something like that on me, and then expect me not to
say anything," I mumbled against his finger.

He lifted his hand, moving it to rest against my neck. The speed of my
heart reacted to that, but I persisted.

"You don't have to breathe?" I demanded.

"No, it's not necessary. Just a habit." He shrugged.

"How long can you go… without breathing?"

"Indefinitely, I suppose; I don't know. It gets a bit uncomfortable —
being without a sense of smell."

"A bit uncomfortable," I echoed.

I wasn't paying attention to my own expression, but something in it made
him grow somber. His hand dropped to his side and he stood very still,
his eyes intent on my face. The silence lengthened. His features were
immobile as stone.

"What is it?" I whispered, touching his frozen face.

His face softened under my hand, and he sighed. "I keep waiting for it to
happen."

"For what to happen?"

"I know that at some point, something I tell you or something you see is
going to be too much. And then you'll run away from me, screaming as you
go." He smiled half a smile, but his eyes were serious. "I won't stop

you. I want this to happen, because I want you to be safe. And yet, I
want to be with you. The two desires are impossible to reconcile…" He
trailed off, staring at my face. Waiting.

"I'm not running anywhere," I promised.

"We'll see," he said, smiling again.

I frowned at him. "So, go on — Carlisle was swimming to France."

He paused, getting back into his story. Reflexively, his eyes flickered
to another picture — the most colorful of them all, the most ornately
framed, and the largest; it was twice as wide as the door it hung next
to. The canvas overflowed with bright figures in swirling robes, writhing
around long pillars and off marbled balconies. I couldn't tell if it
represented Greek mythology, or if the characters floating in the clouds
above were meant to be biblical.

"Carlisle swam to France, and continued on through Europe, to the
universities there. By night he studied music, science, medicine — and
found his calling, his penance, in that, in saving human lives." His
expression became awed, almost reverent. "I can't adequately describe the
struggle; it took Carlisle two centuries of torturous effort to perfect
his self-control. Now he is all but immune to the scent of human blood,
and he is able to do the work he loves without agony. He finds a great
deal of peace there, at the hospital…" Edward stared off into space for a
long moment. Suddenly he seemed to recall his purpose. He tapped his
finger against the huge painting in front of us.

"He was studying in Italy when he discovered the others there. They were
much more civilized and educated than the wraiths of the London sewers."

He touched a comparatively sedate quartet of figures painted on the
highest balcony, looking down calmly on the mayhem below them. I examined
the grouping carefully and realized, with a startled laugh, that I
recognized the golden-haired man.

"Solimena was greatly inspired by Carlisle's friends. He often painted
them as gods," Edward chuckled. "Aro, Marcus, Caius," he said, indicating
the other three, two black-haired, one snowy-white. "Nighttime patrons of
the arts."

"What happened to them?" I wondered aloud, my fingertip hovering a
centimeter from the figures on the canvas.

"They're still there." He shrugged. "As they have been for who knows how
many millennia. Carlisle stayed with them only for a short time, just a
few decades. He greatly admired their civility, their refinement, but
they persisted in trying to cure his aversion to 'his natural food
source,' as they called it. They tried to persuade him, and he tried to
persuade them, to no avail. At that point, Carlisle decided to try the
New World. He dreamed of finding others like himself. He was very lonely,
you see.

"He didn't find anyone for a long time. But, as monsters became the stuff
of fairy tales, he found he could interact with unsuspecting humans as if
he were one of them. He began practicing medicine. But the companionship
he craved evaded him; he couldn't risk familiarity.

"When the influenza epidemic hit, he was working nights in a hospital in
Chicago. He'd been turning over an idea in his mind for several years,
and he had almost decided to act — since he couldn't find a companion, he
would create one. He wasn't absolutely sure how his own transformation
had occurred, so he was hesitant. And he was loath to steal anyone's life
the way his had been stolen. It was in that frame of mind that he found
me. There was no hope for me; I was left in a ward with the dying. He had
nursed my parents, and knew I was alone. He decided to try…"

His voice, nearly a whisper now, trailed off. He stared unseeingly
through the west windows. I wondered which images filled his mind now,
Carlisle's memories or his own. I waited quietly.

When he turned back to me, a gentle angel's smile lit his expression.

"And so we've come full circle," he concluded.

"Have you always stayed with Carlisle, then?" I wondered.

"Almost always." He put his hand lightly on my waist and pulled me with
him as he walked through the door. I stared back at the wall of pictures,
wondering if I would ever get to hear the other stories.

Edward didn't say any more as we walked down the hall, so I asked,
"Almost?"

He sighed, seeming reluctant to answer. "Well, I had a typical bout of
rebellious adolescence — about ten years after I was… born… created,
whatever you want to call it. I wasn't sold on his life of abstinence,
and I resented him for curbing my appetite. So I went off on my own for a
time."

"Really?" I was intrigued, rather than frightened, as I perhaps should
have been.

He could tell. I vaguely realized that we were headed up the next flight
of stairs, but I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings.

"That doesn't repulse you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I guess… it sounds reasonable."

He barked a laugh, more loudly than before. We were at the top of the
stairs now, in another paneled hallway.

"From the time of my new birth," he murmured, "I had the advantage of
knowing what everyone around me was thinking, both human and non-human
alike. That's why it took me ten years to defy Carlisle — I could read
his perfect sincerity, understand exactly why he lived the way he did.

"It took me only a few years to return to Carlisle and recommit to his
vision. I thought I would be exempt from the… depression… that
accompanies a conscience. Because I knew the thoughts of my prey, I could
pass over the innocent and pursue only the evil. If I followed a murderer
down a dark alley where he stalked a young girl — if I saved her, then
surely I wasn't so terrible."

I shivered, imagining only too clearly what he described — the alley at
night, the frightened girl, the dark man behind her. And Edward, Edward
as he hunted, terrible and glorious as a young god, unstoppable. Would
she have been grateful, that girl, or more frightened than before?

"But as time went on, I began to see the monster in my eyes. I couldn't
escape the debt of so much human life taken, no matter how justified. And
I went back to Carlisle and Esme. They welcomed me back like the
prodigal. It was more than I deserved."

We'd come to a stop in front of the last door in the hall.

"My room," he informed me, opening it and pulling me through.

His room faced south, with a wall-sized window like the great room below.
The whole back side of the house must be glass. His view looked down on
the winding Sol Duc River, across the untouched forest to the Olympic
Mountain range. The mountains were much closer than I would have believed.

The western wall was completely covered with shelf after shelf of CDs.
His room was better stocked than a music store. In the corner was a
sophisticated-looking sound system, the kind I was afraid to touch
because I'd be sure to break something. There was no bed, only a wide and
inviting black leather sofa. The floor was covered with a thick golden

carpet, and the walls were hung with heavy fabric in a slightly darker
shade.

"Good acoustics?" I guessed.

He chuckled and nodded.

He picked up a remote and turned the stereo on. It was quiet, but the
soft jazz number sounded like the band was in the room with us. I went to
look at his mind-boggling music collection.

"How do you have these organized?" I asked, unable to find any rhyme or
reason to the titles.

He wasn't paying attention.

"Ummm, by year, and then by personal preference within that frame," he
said absently.

I turned, and he was looking at me with a peculiar expression in his eyes.

"What?"

"I was prepared to feel… relieved. Having you know about everything, not
needing to keep secrets from you. But I didn't expect to feel more than
that. I like it. It makes me… happy." He shrugged, smiling slightly.

"I'm glad," I said, smiling back. I'd worried that he might regret
telling me these things. It was good to know that wasn't the case.

But then, as his eyes dissected my expression, his smile faded and his
forehead creased.

"You're still waiting for the running and the screaming, aren't you?" I
guessed.

A faint smile touched his lips, and he nodded.

"I hate to burst your bubble, but you're really not as scary as you think
you are. I don't find you scary at all, actually," I lied casually.

He stopped, raising his eyebrows in blatant disbelief. Then he flashed a
wide, wicked smile.

"You really shouldn't have said that," he chuckled.

He growled, a low sound in the back of his throat; his lips curled back
over his perfect teeth. His body shifted suddenly, half-crouched, tensed
like a lion about to pounce.

I backed away from him, glaring.

"You wouldn't."

I didn't see him leap at me — it was much too fast. I only found myself
suddenly airborne, and then we crashed onto the sofa, knocking it into
the wall. All the while, his arms formed an iron cage of protection
around me — I was barely jostled. But I still was gasping as I tried to
right myself.

He wasn't having that. He curled me into a ball against his chest,
holding me more securely than iron chains. I glared at him in alarm, but
he seemed well in control, his jaw relaxed as he grinned, his eyes bright
only with humor.

"You were saying?" he growled playfully.

"That you are a very, very terrifying monster," I said, my sarcasm marred
a bit by my breathless voice.

"Much better," he approved.

"Um." I struggled. "Can I get up now?"

He just laughed.

"Can we come in?" a soft voice sounded from the hall.

I struggled to free myself, but Edward merely readjusted me so that I was
somewhat more conventionally seated on his lap. I could see it was Alice,
then, and Jasper behind her in the doorway. My cheeks burned, but Edward
seemed at ease.

"Go ahead." Edward was still chuckling quietly.

Alice seemed to find nothing unusual in our embrace; she walked — almost
danced, her movements were so graceful — to the center of the room, where
she folded herself sinuously onto the floor. Jasper, however, paused at
the door, his expression a trifle shocked. He stared at Edward's face,
and I wondered if he was tasting the atmosphere with his unusual
sensitivity.

"It sounded like you were having Bella for lunch, and we came to see if
you would share," Alice announced.

I stiffened for an instant, until I realized Edward was grinning —
whether at her comment or my response, I couldn't tell.

"Sorry, I don't believe I have enough to spare," he replied, his arms
holding me recklessly close.

"Actually," Jasper said, smiling despite himself as he walked into the
room, "Alice says there's going to be a real storm tonight, and Emmett
wants to play ball. Are you game?"

The words were all common enough, but the context confused me. I gathered
that Alice was a bit more reliable than the weatherman, though.

Edward's eyes lit up, but he hesitated.

"Of course you should bring Bella," Alice chirped. I thought I saw Jasper
throw a quick glance at her.

"Do you want to go?" Edward asked me, excited, his expression vivid.

"Sure." I couldn't disappoint such a face. "Um, where are we going?"

"We have to wait for thunder to play ball — you'll see why," he promised.

"Will I need an umbrella?"

They all three laughed aloud.

"Will she?" Jasper asked Alice.

"No." She was positive. "The storm will hit over town. It should be dry
enough in the clearing."

"Good, then." The enthusiasm in Jasper's voice was catching, naturally. I
found myself eager, rather than scared stiff.

"Let's go see if Carlisle will come." Alice bounded up and to the door in
a fashion that would break any ballerina's heart.

"Like you don't know," Jasper teased, and they were swiftly on their way.
Jasper managed to inconspicuously close the door behind them.

"What will we be playing?" I demanded.

"You will be watching," Edward clarified. "We will be playing baseball."

I rolled my eyes. "Vampires like baseball?"

"It's the American pastime," he said with mock solemnity.
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离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
举报 只看该作者 15楼  发表于: 2012-08-14 0
第十五章 卡伦一家
第十五章 卡伦一家

又一个多云的早晨，暗哑的光最终把我弄醒了。我把胳膊压在眼睛上，晕乎乎的，一片茫然。有件事情，一个梦境，试图被记起来，挣扎着闯入我的意识中。我呻吟着，翻过身来侧躺着，想要再睡一会儿。然后那个特别的一天如潮水般拥入了我的认知里。

“哦！”我坐起来得太快，头开始晕起来。

“你的头发看起来像个干草堆……但我喜欢这样。”他安静的声音从角落里的那张摇椅传来。

“爱德华！你留下来了！”我欣喜若狂，不假思索地把自己扔过整个房间，落到他的膝上。但等到我的思路跟上我的动作，我立刻僵住了，被自己完全失控的狂热震撼到了。我仰起脸看着他，生怕我又踩过了错误的底线。

但他大笑起来。

“当然。”他吃惊地答道，但似乎对我的反应很是高兴。他的手摩挲着，把我抱回怀里。

我小心地把头靠在他的肩膀上，细嗅着他肌肤上的芳香。

“我本来还认定，那只是一个梦。”

“你没那么有创造力。”他嘲弄道。

“查理！”我这才记起来，再次不假思索地跳起来，落到地板上。

“他一个小时以前就走了——在重新接上了你的电池线以后，我得补充这一点。我不得不承认我很失望。这真的能阻止你吗，如果你下定决心要走的话？”
我站在原地，仔细思考着，我迫切想要回到他怀里，但有害怕自己早上口气不清新。

“你早上通常很少这样烦恼的。”他指出来。他张开双臂，要我回到他怀里。一个几乎不可抗拒的邀请。

“我需要另一分钟当回人类。”我坦白道。

“我会等的。”
我跳着奔向浴室，无法识别出自己现在是什么样的情绪。我不认识我自己了，不管是内在还是外在。镜中的脸根本就是一个陌生人——眼睛太过明亮，点点红晕掠过我的颧骨。在我刷完牙以后，我设法梳直自己乱糟糟的头发。我溅起冷水洗脸，试图让呼吸变得自然些，却看不出来有半点效果。我几乎是跑着回到了房间。

他仍在那里，简直像是个奇迹，他的双臂依然在等着我。他伸出手够到我，我的心开始砰砰乱跳。

“欢迎回来。”他喃喃低语着，把我拉进怀里。

他沉默地摇着我，过了一会儿，我才注意到他换了衣服，他的头发很平整。

“你离开了？”我抓住他新换上了的衬衣的领子，控诉道。

“我不能穿着我来时的衣服离开——邻居们会怎么想？”

我不悦地撅起嘴。  

“你睡得很沉，我没有错过任何东西。”他的眼睛闪闪发亮。“梦话提前了。”

我呻吟起来。“你听到了什么？”  
他金色的眸子变得非常温柔。“你说你爱我。”

“你早就知道的。”我提醒他，不由得垂下了头。

“那还是一样，听到你亲口说出来让我很高兴。”

我把脸埋在他肩膀上。

“我爱你。”我耳语着。

“而现在，你就是我的生命。”他只答道。
在这个时刻已经没有多余的话用说了。他把摇椅前后摇着这个时候房间开始变亮了。

“早餐时间到。”他最终若无其事地说到——这是一种保证，我敢肯定，他在保证他会记得我所有的人类弱点。

所以，我双手扼住自己的喉咙，盯着他看。震惊的神情掠过了他的脸。

“上当了！”我窃笑着，“你还说我不会演戏！”

他厌恶地皱起眉：“这一点也不有趣。”

“这很有趣，你知道的。”但我仔细地审视着他金色的眼镜，想知道自己是否被原谅了。很显然，我被赦免了。

“我应该这样改述吗？”他问道。“人类的早餐时间到。”

“哦，好吧。”

他温柔地把我扔到他石头一样的肩膀上，但动作快得让我透不过起来。他轻而易举地把我抱下楼，我伉仪过，但被他无视了。他把我放到一张椅子上。

厨房显得既明朗又欢快，似乎被我的情绪感染到了。

“早餐吃什么？”我快活地问道。

这个问题让他想了足足一分钟。

“呃，我不能肯定。你喜欢吃什么？”他大理石般的额头皱了起来。

我咧嘴一笑，跳了起来。

“那好吧，我可是很擅长自力更生的。看着我怎么狩猎。”

我找出一只碗和一盒麦片。当我把牛奶倒进去，抓起一把勺子的时候，我能感觉到他的眼睛在看着我。我把自己的食物放到桌子上，然后停住了。

“需要我给你弄点什么吃的吗？”我不想显得太过无礼，于是问道。

他转了转眼睛。“吃吧，贝拉。”

我坐到桌子旁，看着他，然后吃了一口。他注视着我，研究着我的每一个动作。这让我很不自在。我咽下嘴里的食物，开口说话，想要分散他的注意力。

“今天有什么安排吗？”我问道。

“呃嗯……”我看着他仔细地斟酌着自己的答案。“你觉得去见我的家里人怎么样？”

我吞咽了一下。

“你现在害怕了？”他听起来满怀希望。

“是的。”我坦白道。我怎么可能否认呢——他从我眼里就能看出来。

“别担心。”他坏笑起来。“我会保护你的。”

“我不是在害怕他们。”我解释道。“我是在害怕他们会……不喜欢我。难道他们不会，嗯，很惊讶，你居然带了一个……像我这样的人……回家去见他们？他们知道我知道他们的事吗？”

“哦，他们早就都知道了。他们昨天还在打赌，你知道”——他微笑着，但他的声音有些生涩——“打赌我会不会带你回来。不过，我想不出有谁敢跟爱丽丝打赌。无论如何，我们家里是没有什么秘密的。这确实不太可能，因为我能读心，而爱丽丝能看见未来的所有事情。”

“而贾斯帕会让你感受到温暖，不知不觉地说出了心里话，别忘了这一点。”

“你注意到了。”他赞许地笑了起来。

“我早就时不时地了解到了这一点。”我咧嘴一笑。“所以爱丽丝看到我来了？”

他的反应很奇怪。“类似于这样的事情。”他很不自在地说道，扭头看向别处，这样我就看不到他的眼睛了。我好奇地盯着他看。

“这是什么好东西吗？”他问道，突然回过头来看着我，脸上露出揶揄的神情看着我的食物。“老实说，这看上去让人很不开胃。”

“好吧，这里可没什么暴躁的灰熊……”我喃喃自语着，无视他的怒目而视。我还是想知道，为什么当我提到爱丽丝的时候，他会是那种反应。我扒拉着我的麦片，思索着。

他站在厨房的中间，又变成了一尊阿多尼斯的雕像，心不在焉地向后窗外看去。

然后他回过头来看着我，露出了一抹令人心碎的微笑。

“我想，你也应该向你父亲正式介绍我。”

“他已经认识你了。”我提醒他。

“我是指，作为你的男朋友。”

我怀疑地盯着他。“为什么？”    

“这不是习俗吗？”他一脸无辜地问道。

“我不知道。”我坦白道。我的约会史没给我提供多少可供参考的注意事项。而且也没什么正常的约会指南可以用在现在这个状况。“这没什么必要，你知道。我不希望你……我是说，你不必为了我而假装。”

他耐心地笑着：“我没在假装。”

我把剩下的麦片扒拉到碗边，端起来倒到嘴里。

“你到底有没有打算告诉查理我是你的男朋友？”他诘问道。

“你是吗？”一想到爱德华和查理还有“男朋友”这个词将出现在同一时间同一地点，我不由得强抑住一阵暗自的畏缩。

“‘男孩’这个词确实不太确切，我会承认这一点。”
“我在想，事实上，你不仅仅是我的男朋友。”我坦白道，看着桌面。

“好吧，我不知道我们是否有必要向他展示这些血淋淋的细节。”他隔着桌子伸出手，用一根冰冷温柔的手指托起我的下颌。“但他会需要一些解释，为什么我会如次频繁地出现在这附近。我不想让史温警长对我颁布一个限制令。”（西方特有的法律产物，限定某人不得接近某人或某地或某物多少米之内的范围，否则就要被逮捕并监禁。。。）

“你会吗？”我问道，忽然不安起来。“你真的会在这里吗？”

“只要你需要，我就在这里，不离不弃。”他向我保证。（As long as you want me。。。）

“我每时每刻都需要你，”我警告他。“永远。”

他慢慢地绕过桌子走过来，然后，停在几英尺之外。他伸出手，用指尖触摸着我的脸颊。他的表情深不可测。

“这让你难过吗？”我问道。

他没有回答。他看进我的眼睛里，看了很久，很久。

“你吃完了吗？”他最终问道。

我跳起来。“是的。”

“去换衣服——我在这里等你。”

实在很难决定要穿什么衣服。我怀疑到底有没有专门的礼仪书会详细地介绍当你的吸血鬼达令带你回家见他的吸血鬼家族时应该怎样穿着。能够暗自想到这个词实在是种宽慰。我知道自己太害羞了，有意不提起这个词。

我最终穿上了自己唯一的一件打底恤衫——卡其色的长恤衫。我穿起了他曾经称赞过的那件深蓝色的上衣。我飞快地瞥了一眼镜子，告诉自己我的头发完全令人无法容忍，所以我把头发梳到后面束成一个马尾。

“好吧。”我跳下楼梯。“我很大方得体。”

他在楼梯底下等着我，离得比我认为的还要紧，而我不偏不倚地向他跳过去。他稳住我，把我拉到了一个稍远的谨慎的距离，几秒之后，忽然又把我拉近些。

“又错了。”他在我耳畔低语着。“你绝对不够得上大方得体——谁都不应该穿得这样诱人的。这不公平。”

“怎样才算得体？”我问道。“我可以去换……”

他叹息着，摇了摇头。“你太荒谬了。”他优雅地把冰冷的唇印在我的前额上，我的脑子一片混乱。他呼吸的香气让我根本没办法思考。

“我应该向你解释你现在是如何诱或着我吗？”他说着。这实在是一个很符合修辞学的问题。他的手指慢慢地描着我的脊柱，他的呼吸越来越急促地拂过我的肌肤。我的双手抵在他的胸前，我又开始感到头晕眼花了。他慢慢地俯下头，用冰冷的唇吻上了我的唇，但只过了一秒钟，便非常小心地，轻轻地把它们分开了。

然后我瘫倒了。

“贝拉？”他的声音惊慌失措，他抓住我，把我扶起来。

“你……让……我……发晕了。”我头晕眼花地指控他。

“我该拿你怎么办呢？”他有些恼怒地说道。“昨天我吻你时你攻击了我！今天你却因为我的吻而晕过去了！”
我虚弱地笑了起来，让他的胳膊支撑着我，我的头还是很晕。

“你总说我擅长做每件事。”他叹息着说。

“这就是问题所在。”我还是有些眩晕。“你太擅长了。太，太擅长了。”

“你觉得头晕吗？”他问道。他之前见过我像这样子。

“不——这完全不是那种头晕。我不知道发生了什么事。”我充满歉意地摇着头。“我想我忘了呼吸。”

“你现在这个样子，我可不敢带你去任何地方。”

“我没事。”我坚持着。“无论如何，你的家人都会认为我有病，有什么区别吗？”

他估量了片刻我的神情。“我特别偏爱你现在这种肤色。”他出乎意料地说道。我愉快地脸红了，赶忙看向别处。

“看，我会竭尽全力不去想我将要做的事，所以我们现在可以走了吗？”我问道。

“而你在担心，不是因为你将要见到一屋子的吸血鬼，而是因为你认为那些吸血鬼不会赞同你，对吗？”

“没错。”我立刻答道，掩饰着自己对他漫不经心地用着这个词的惊讶。

他摇了摇头：“你简直难以置信。”

当他把我的卡车开出镇里的主街区时，我才意识到，我还不知道他住在哪里。我们开过架在Calawah河上的桥，开向通往北部的道路。房屋飞快地从我们车旁掠过，渐渐变得不那么密集，房屋主体也变得越来越巨大。然后，我们把所有的住家都抛在了身后，开进了云雾缭绕的森林。我还在试图决定是要开口问还是耐心等待的时候，他忽然掉转车头开进了一条没有铺着柏油的路。这条路没有任何标记，在一片蕨类植物中隐约可见。它蜿蜒蛇行着穿过一颗颗古老的树木，森林在路两旁侵蚀着我们的视野，让我们只能看见路前方几米远的地方。

然后，又开过数英里以后，树木变得稀少些了，忽然间我们就在一片小小的草地上了，或许这事实上是一片私人草坪？但是，森林里的幽暗感并未消散，因为有六棵未经修剪的雪松用它们广阔的绵延的枝叶荫蔽着整块草地。这些树撑起了它们保护性的树阴，一直绵延到房屋的外墙上，那外墙凌于树荫之上，使得环绕着房屋一层的深邃的门廊显得有些陈旧。

我不知道自己在期待着什么，但绝对不是这样的。这所房子经久优美，也许有一百年以上的历史了。它被粉刷成一种柔和的，有些褪色的白色，有三层楼高，四四方方，很是对称。门窗都是最初的结构，或是修旧如旧。我的卡车是我所能看见的唯一一辆车子。我能听到河流的声音，就在附近的某个地方，隐藏在幽暗的森林中。

“哇噢。”

“你喜欢？”他笑了起来。

“这……实在太有吸引力了。”

他拉了一下我的马尾的末梢，轻笑起来。

“准备好了吗？”他问道，打开了我的车门。

“一点也没有——我们走吧。”我试图大笑，但笑声似乎卡在了我的喉咙里。我不安地抚平着自己的头发。

“你看上去很可爱。”他轻松地拉起我的手，完全不假思索。

我们穿过深邃的树阴，向门廊走去。我知道他能感觉到我的不安，他的拇指在我的手背上打着圈，让我镇静下来。

他为我打开了门。  

屋里更加惊人，甚至比屋外还要出乎意料。屋里非常明亮，非常开阔，非常宽敞。这里原本应该有好几个房间，但一层的大部分墙壁都被打通了，变成了一个尤为广阔的空间。屋后面向南边的墙壁被全部替换成整块的玻璃，而在雪松的树荫之外，绵延着的草地上，一条宽广的河流展露无遗。一座宏伟的回旋楼梯占据了房间的西面。墙面，高高耸起的天花板，木制的地板，厚重的地毯，全都是各种色调的白色。

就站在门口的左边，站在地板上一块升高的部分，在一架巨大的平台式钢琴旁，等着招呼我们的，是爱德华的父母。

当然，我之前见过卡伦医生，但我还是情不自禁地被他的年轻，他可恶的完美震撼了。站在他身旁的是艾思梅，我敢确定，因为她是这个家里我此前唯一从未见过的人。她和其他人一样，有着苍白，美丽的外表。她心形的脸庞，波浪般起伏的柔软的焦糖色的秀发，让我想起了默片时代电影中的纯真少女。她个子小巧，身形纤细，但不像其他人那样消瘦，她更圆润些。他们的穿着都很随意，都穿着与屋里的色调相衬的浅颜色衣服。他们微笑着表示欢迎，但并没有向我们走过来。我猜，是为了避免吓着我。

“卡莱尔，艾思梅，”爱德华的声音打破了这阵短暂的沉默。“这位是贝拉。”

“非常欢迎你，贝拉。”卡莱尔向我走过来，他的步子十分小心慎重。他试探性地伸出手，我走向前去，和他握手。
“很高兴再次见到你，卡伦医生。”

“拜托，叫我卡莱尔。”

“卡莱尔。”我向他露齿一笑，忽然涌起的自信让我吃惊不小。我能感觉到，站在我身旁的爱德华如释重负。

艾思梅微笑着，也走上前来，握住了我的手。她冰冷如石头般的紧握和我期待的一样

“很高兴认识你。”她由衷地说道。

“谢谢。我也很高兴见到你。”而且我一直都是。就像遇见一个童话故事——一个活生生的白雪公主。

“爱丽丝和贾斯帕在哪里？”爱德华问道，但没人回答，他们已经出现在宽阔的楼梯顶上。

“嗨，爱德华！”爱丽丝热情地喊道。她跑下楼梯，只见一阵黑发雪肤的幻影，顷刻之间她已优雅地出现在我面前。卡莱尔和艾思梅警告地瞪着她，但我喜欢这样。这很正常——无论如何，对她而言确实是这样。

“嗨，贝拉！”爱丽丝说着，跳上前来亲吻我的脸颊。如果卡莱尔和艾思梅之前只是警惕地看着的话，他们现在简直是难以置信地看着。我的眼里也露出了震惊的神情，但我还是很高兴，她竟然如此如此全盘地认同我。我惊奇地感觉到爱德华在我身旁僵住了。我瞥了一眼他的脸，但他的神情有些难以琢磨。

“你闻起来真的很棒，我之前从没注意到。”让我异常窘迫地是，她如此评价道。

没人知道该说些什么，然后贾斯帕站在了那里——身材高大，宛如狮子。一种安心的感觉传遍了我的全身，我忽然轻松起来，不再在乎自己在那里。爱德华挑起一侧眉毛，看着贾斯帕，我这才想起来贾斯帕的天赋。

“你好，贝拉。”贾斯帕说道。他依然站在远处，并不主动过来和我握手。但在他周围是不可能感觉到尴尬的。

“你好，贾斯帕。”我向他微微一笑，然后向所有人微笑。“很高兴见到你们——你们的家非常漂亮。”我依照惯例补充了一句。

“谢谢，”艾思梅说道。“我们都很高兴你能来。”她饱含深情地说着，我意识到她觉得我很勇敢。  

我同样注意到，罗莎莉和艾美特都不在这里，我还记得当我问到别人会不会不喜欢我时，爱德华过于天真的否认。

卡莱尔的神情转移了我的注意力，把我从思绪中啦了回来。他一脸紧张的神情，正用意味深长的目光注视着爱德华。在眼睛的余光中，我看到爱德华点了点头。

我看向别处，试图保持礼貌。我的眼睛又一次徘徊在门边平台上那架美丽的乐器上。我忽然想起了我童年时疯狂的梦想，想象着如果我能中一张彩票，我就能给我母亲买一架钢琴了。她弹得不是很好——她只在我们的二手立式钢琴上自娱自乐地弹过——但我喜欢看她弹奏。她很快乐，一心一意地弹着——对我来说，她似乎是一个全新的，谜一样的人，跳出了我所认定的“妈妈”的角色之外的人。当然，她也让我上过几堂课，但像大多数孩子一样，我哭闹不休，直到她放过我为止。

艾思梅注意到了我关注的对象。

“你会弹吗？”她问道，把头偏向了那架钢琴。

我摇了摇头。“完全不会。但它很漂亮。这是你的吗？”

“不。”她大笑起来。“爱德华没有告诉过你他很有音乐天赋吗？”

“没有。”我眯起眼睛，瞪着他忽然露出的无辜神情。“我猜，我应该早就料到的。”

艾思梅困惑地扬起她精致优雅的眉毛。

“爱德华什么都会，对吧？”我解释道。

贾斯帕窃笑起来，艾思梅责难地瞪了爱德华一眼。

“我希望你没有在炫耀——这样太没礼貌了。”她训斥道。

“只有一点点。”他肆无忌惮地大笑起来。她的脸因为他的声音而柔和了起来，他们交换了一个我无法理解的简短的眼神，可是艾思梅的神情却几近俏皮。

“事实上，他太谦逊了。”我更正道。

“好吧，去为她弹上一曲。”艾思梅鼓励道。

“你刚说过炫耀是没有礼貌的。”他反驳道。

“每条规矩都有例外。”她答复道。

“我想听你弹奏。”我自告奋勇地说道。

“那就决定了。”艾思梅把他推向钢琴。他拉着我一起走过去，让我坐到琴凳上和他挨着坐。

他恼火地看了我许久，这才转向那些琴键。

然后，他的手指轻快地在那些象牙白色的琴键上跃动起来，流淌在房间里的乐章是如此的复杂，如此的丰富，很难想象这是用一双手弹出来的。我感觉到我的下巴掉下来了，我惊愕地张大了嘴，听到了从我身后传来的对我的反应的轻笑声。

爱德华若无其事地看着我，但音乐丝毫没有停顿，依然在我们身旁奔涌着。他向我眨了眨眼。“你喜欢吗？”

“你写的？”我明白过来，喘息着说。

他点了点头。“这是艾思梅最喜欢的一曲。”

我闭上眼睛，摇了摇头。

“怎么了？”

“我觉得自己一无是处。”

音乐缓慢下来，演变成了一首更为轻柔的曲子。而让我惊讶的是，我从那些丰富的音节里认出了交织在其中的他那首摇篮曲的旋律。

“你启发了我的灵感，让我写下了这首曲子。”他温柔地说着。音乐变得更加甜蜜，简直让人不堪忍受。

我说不出话来。

“他们很喜欢你，你知道，”他攀谈道。“尤其是艾思梅。”

我向背后望去，但整个巨大的房间现在都空了。

“他们都上哪儿去了？”

“非常巧妙地给我们留出一点私人空间，我猜是这样。”

我叹了口气。“他们都喜欢我。可罗莎莉和艾美特……”我打住了话头，不知道该如何表达自己的疑虑。

他皱起眉：“别担心罗莎莉，”他说道，他睁大了眼睛，很有说服力。“她会回来的。”

我怀疑地撅起嘴唇。“艾美特呢？”

“嗯，他觉得我疯了，这倒是真的。但他对你毫不介怀。他正试图劝说罗莎莉。”

“是什么让她不快呢？”我不敢确定自己是否想要知道答案。

他深深地叹息着。“罗莎莉太纠结于……我们的身份。对她来说让外面的人了解真相是件很难的事。而且她有点儿嫉妒。”

“罗莎莉嫉妒我？”我难以置信地问道。我试图想象出某个宇宙空间，在那里像罗莎莉这样美丽得惊人的人会有某种可能的理由嫉妒像我这样的人。

“你是人类。”他耸耸肩。“而她希望她也是。”

“哦，”我喃喃低语道。“可是，甚至连贾斯帕……”

“那确实是我的错。”他说道。“我告诉过你他是最近才开始尝试我们的生活方式的。我警告过他，要他离你远一点。”

我想到了那个理由，战栗起来。

“艾思梅和卡莱尔……”我赶快继续说道，不想让他注意到。

“都很高兴看到我快乐。事实上，就算你多长了一只眼睛或者脚上有蹼，她都不会介意的。一直以来她都在担心着我，生怕我必要的天性会有所缺失，因为当卡莱尔转变我的时候，我还太年轻……她简直欣喜若狂。每次我触碰你的时候，她都会因为心满意足而哽咽了。”

“爱丽丝似乎非常地……热情。”

“爱丽丝有她自己独特的看问题的方式。”他紧闭着唇，勉强说道。

“而你不打算解释这一点，对吧？”

一阵无需言语的交流在我们之间传递着。他意识到，我已经知道他有事情隐瞒着我。我意识到，他不会泄露任何内容的。至少不是现在。  

“所以这就是卡莱尔之前想要告诉你的？”

他的眉头聚拢在了一起。“你注意到了，对吗？”

我耸耸肩。“当然。”

他若有所思地看了我几秒种后，答道。“他想告诉我一点新闻——他不知道这是否是我能和你分享的内容。”

“你会吗？”

“我不得不告诉你，因为我将要有点……过度保护你，在未来的几天内——或者几周——而我不想让你觉得我是个天生的暴君。”

“怎么了？”

“事实上，没什么。爱丽丝刚刚看到有些访客很快就要到来了。他们知道我们在这里，而且他们很好奇。”

“访客？”

“是的……好吧，当然，他们不像我们——我是指，在狩猎习惯上。他们也许根本不会进镇里来，但我确实不想让你离开我的视线范围，直到他们离开为止。”

我颤抖起来。

“终于，一个合理的反应！”他喃喃低语道。“我正要开始认为你完全没有自我保护的意识呢。”

我不去理会这个话题，只是看向别处，我的目光再次徜徉在这间广阔的房间里。

他追随着我的视线。“不是你所期待的，对吗？”他问道，他的声音有些自以为是。

“不是。”我承认道。

“没有棺材，角落里没有成堆的头盖骨，我甚至不认为我们会有蜘蛛网……你一定失望透顶了。”他狡猾地继续说道。

我无视他的揶揄。“这里是那么的明亮……那么的开阔。”

当他回答的时候，他更认真些了。“这里是我们永远不需要躲藏的地方。”

他依然在弹着那首歌，我的歌，渐渐滑入尾声。最后一个和音落在了一个更为忧伤的音调上。最后一个音符回荡着，在一片沉默中愈发醒目。

“谢谢。”我喃喃低语着。我意识到自己的眼中已经盈满了泪水。我轻轻抹去泪水，有些尴尬。

他轻触我的眼角，截住一滴我遗漏了的泪珠。他举起那根手指，审视着那一滴忧伤的液体。然后，他把手指放到嘴里，品尝它的味道。他的动作太快了，我不能肯定他是否真的这样做了。

我疑虑地看着，而他回过头来看着我，看了许久，最终笑了起来。

“你想去看看房子的其余部分吗？”

“没有棺材？”我求证道，我话里的挖苦并不能完全掩盖住我所感受到的微小但真切的不安。

他大笑起来，牵起我的手，带着我从钢琴旁离开。

“没有棺材。”他保证道。

我们走上那座宏伟的楼梯，我的手一直放在如绸缎般光滑的扶手上。楼梯尽头那长长的走廊里镶嵌着一种米色的木板，和一楼的地板一样。

“罗莎莉和艾美特的房间……卡莱尔的办公室……爱丽丝的房间……”他一边引着我走过一扇扇门，一边指点着。

他本来要继续走下去的，但我停在了走廊的尽头，怀疑地看着我头上的墙面上挂着的装饰物。爱德华看着我迷惑的神情，轻笑起来。

“你尽可以笑出来。”他说着，“这是某种讽刺。”

我可笑不出来。我的手下意识地抬了起来，伸出一根手指，仿佛要触到那个巨大的木制的十字架，它因年久而发暗的颜色与浅色调的墙面形成了鲜明的对比。我没有触碰它，虽然我很好奇，这块有些年头的木头摸起来会不会像它看上去那样光滑如丝。

“这一定很古老了。”我猜测着。

他耸耸肩。“十六世纪三十年代早期，大约是那个时候。”

我的目光从十字架上移开，注视着他。

“为什么你要把它留在这里呢？”我很怀疑。

“念旧之情。它属于卡莱尔的父亲。”

“他收集古董？”我怀疑地试探道。

“不。他亲手把它雕刻出来。它就挂在他布道的教区牧师住宅的讲道坛后的墙面上。”

我不能肯定我的表情是否泄露了我的震惊。但为了以防万一，我转过身去，看着那个简朴的古老的十字架。我飞快地心算着：这个十字架有超过三百七十年的历史了。沉默在延续着，我挣扎着让自己的脑子塞满了这个念头——这么多年。

“你还好吗？”他听起来有些担心。

“卡莱尔几岁了？”我无视他的问题，依然向上看着，飞快地问道，

“他刚刚庆祝完他的三百六十二岁生日。”爱德华说道。我回过头去看向他，眼里写满了上百万个问题。    

他一边说话，一边小心地看着我。

“卡莱尔生于伦敦，他确信是在在十七世纪四十年代。那时候时间的计算还不太精确，至少对普通人来说是这样。那时还在克伦威尔的统治之下。”

我一边听着，一边绷住脸，我知道他在仔细查看着我。如果我不试图去相信他所说的话的话，这样做会更容易些。

“他是一个圣公会牧师的独生子。他的母亲在生下他以后就死于难产了。他的父亲是个偏执的男人。当新教徒开始掌权时，他狂热地开始了对罗马天主教和其他宗教的迫害。他同样极其坚定地相信着存在着邪恶的事物。他领导了大规模的猎杀行动，狩猎女巫，狼人……还有吸血鬼。”一听到这个词，我立刻僵住了。我知道他注意到了，但他没有停顿，继续说了下去。

“他们烧死了许多无辜的人——当然，他找到的真正的那些生物并不那么容易捕捉。”

“当那个牧师日益老去的时候，他让他顺从的儿子接替了搜捕的领导者的位置。起初卡莱尔的表现很让人失望。他不能很快地提出指控，不能在事实上也确实没有魔鬼的地方看到魔鬼。但他很固执，而且比他的父亲还要聪明。他确实找到了一个由一群真正的吸血鬼组成的巫会，他们隐藏在城市的下水道里，只在晚上才出来狩猎。在那些日子里，在怪物还不仅仅是神话与传说的时候，这是许多吸血鬼生活的方式。”

“人们聚集起来，当然，拿着他们的干草叉和火把”——他短促的笑声变得阴暗起来——“等在了卡莱尔看到怪物出没的街道上。最终，一个吸血鬼出现了。”

他的声音非常低，我紧张地捕捉着每一个字眼。

“他一定很古老了，而且因为饥饿而有些虚弱。当他看见这群暴动的民众时，卡莱尔听到他向别的几个喊着拉丁语。他跑过街道，而卡莱尔——他才二十三岁，跑得非常快——领着人们追踪着他。那个生物本来可以轻而易举地摆脱他们的，但卡莱尔认为他太饿了，所以他转过来攻击人们。他首先扑向了卡莱尔，但别的人正紧跟在后头，所以他转身自卫。他杀了两个人，带着第三个离开了，把流着血的卡莱尔留在了街道上。”

他停了下来。我能感觉到他在编辑某些部分，不让我知道。

“卡莱尔知道他父亲会做什么。尸体都会被烧掉——任何被怪物感染过的东西都要被毁掉。卡莱尔本能地想要保住自己的性命。当人们追随着那个魔鬼和他的受害者时，他爬着离开了那个小巷。他躲进了一个地窖，把自己埋在了一堆腐烂的马铃薯里过了三天。这实在是个奇迹，他居然能够保持安静，而不被发现。”

“然后，一切都结束了，而他终于意识到自己变成了什么。”

我不知道自己的表情泄露了什么，但他忽然打住了话头。

“你感觉怎么样？”他问道。

“我很好。”我向他保证道。虽然我踌躇着咬住了唇，他一定看到我眼中熊熊燃烧着的好奇心。

他笑了起来：“我希望你只有一点点问题要问我。”

“一点点。”

他笑得更开了，露出明亮的皓齿。他开始折返回去，重又穿过走廊，一路牵着我的手。“那么，来吧，”他鼓励道。“我会向你展示的。”  
15. THE CULLENS




The muted light of yet another cloudy day eventually woke me. I lay with
my arm across my eyes, groggy and dazed. Something, a dream trying to be
remembered, struggled to break into my consciousness. I moaned and rolled
on my side, hoping more sleep would come. And then the previous day
flooded back into my awareness.

"Oh!" I sat up so fast it made my head spin.

"Your hair looks like a haystack… but I like it." His unruffled voice
came from the rocking chair in the corner.

"Edward! You stayed!" I rejoiced, and thoughtlessly threw myself across
the room and into his lap. In the instant that my thoughts caught up with
my actions, I froze, shocked by my own uncontrolled enthusiasm. I stared
up at him, afraid that I had crossed the wrong line.

But he laughed.

"Of course," he answered, startled, but seeming pleased by my reaction.
His hands rubbed my back.

I laid my head cautiously against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of
his skin.

"I was sure it was a dream."

"You're not that creative," he scoffed.

"Charlie!" I remembered, thoughtlessly jumping up again and heading to
the door.

"He left an hour ago — after reattaching your battery cables, I might
add. I have to admit I was disappointed. Is that really all it would take
to stop you, if you were determined to go?"

I deliberated where I stood, wanting to return to him badly, but afraid I
might have morning breath.

"You're not usually this confused in the morning," he noted. He held his
arms open for me to return. A nearly irresistible invitation.

"I need another human minute," I admitted.

"I'll wait."

I skipped to the bathroom, my emotions unrecognizable. I didn't know
myself, inside or out. The face in the mirror was practically a stranger
— eyes too bright, hectic spots of red across my cheekbones. After I
brushed my teeth, I worked to straighten out the tangled chaos that was
my hair. I splashed my face with cold water, and tried to breathe
normally, with no noticeable success. I half-ran back to my room.

It seemed like a miracle that he was there, his arms still waiting for
me. He reached out to me, and my heart thumped unsteadily.

"Welcome back," he murmured, taking me into his arms.

He rocked me for a while in silence, until I noticed that his clothes
were changed, his hair smooth.

"You left?" I accused, touching the collar of his fresh shirt.

"I could hardly leave in the clothes I came in — what would the neighbors
think?"

I pouted.

"You were very deeply asleep; I didn't miss anything." His eyes gleamed.
"The talking came earlier."

I groaned. "What did you hear?"

His gold eyes grew very soft. "You said you loved me."

"You knew that already," I reminded him, ducking my head.

"It was nice to hear, just the same."

I hid my face against his shoulder.

"I love you," I whispered.

"You are my life now," he answered simply.

There was nothing more to say for the moment. He rocked us back and forth
as the room grew lighter.

"Breakfast time," he said eventually, casually — to prove, I'm sure, that
he remembered all my human frailties.

So I clutched my throat with both hands and stared at him with wide eyes.
Shock crossed his face.

"Kidding!" I snickered. "And you said I couldn't act!"

He frowned in disgust. "That wasn't funny."

"It was very funny, and you know it." But I examined his gold eyes
carefully, to make sure that I was forgiven. Apparently, I was.

"Shall I rephrase?" he asked. "Breakfast time for the human."

"Oh, okay."

He threw me over his stone shoulder, gently, but with a swiftness that
left me breathless. I protested as he carried me easily down the stairs,
but he ignored me. He sat me right side up on a chair.

The kitchen was bright, happy, seeming to absorb my mood.

"What's for breakfast?" I asked pleasantly.

That threw him for a minute.

"Er, I'm not sure. What would you like?" His marble brow puckered.

I grinned, hopping up.

"That's all right, I fend for myself pretty well. Watch me hunt."

I found a bowl and a box of cereal. I could feel his eyes on me as I
poured the milk and grabbed a spoon. I sat my food on the table, and then
paused.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked, not wanting to be rude.

He rolled his eyes. "Just eat, Bella."

I sat at the table, watching him as I took a bite. He was gazing at me,
studying my every movement. It made me self-conscious. I cleared my mouth
to speak, to distract him.

"What's on the agenda for today?" I asked.

"Hmmm…" I watched him frame his answer carefully. "What would you say to
meeting my family?"

I gulped.

"Are you afraid now?" He sounded hopeful.

"Yes," I admitted; how could I deny it — he could see my eyes.

"Don't worry." He smirked. "I'll protect you."

"I'm not afraid of them," I explained. "I'm afraid they won't… like me.
Won't they be, well, surprised that you would bring someone… like me…
home to meet them? Do they know that I know about them?"

"Oh, they already know everything. They'd taken bets yesterday, you know"
— he smiled, but his voice was harsh — "on whether I'd bring you back,
though why anyone would bet against Alice, I can't imagine. At any rate,
we don't have secrets in the family. It's not really feasible, what with
my mind reading and Alice seeing the future and all that."

"And Jasper making you feel all warm and fuzzy about spilling your guts,
don't forget that."

"You paid attention," he smiled approvingly.

"I've been known to do that every now and then." I grimaced. "So did
Alice see me coming?"

His reaction was strange. "Something like that," he said uncomfortably,
turning away so I couldn't see his eyes. I stared at him curiously.

"Is that any good?" he asked, turning back to me abruptly and eyeing my
breakfast with a teasing look on his face. "Honestly, it doesn't look
very appetizing."

"Well, it's no irritable grizzly…" I murmured, ignoring him when he
glowered. I was still wondering why he responded that way when I
mentioned Alice. I hurried through my cereal, speculating.

He stood in the middle of the kitchen, the statue of Adonis again,
staring abstractedly out the back windows.

Then his eyes were back on me, and he smiled his heartbreaking smile.

"And you should introduce me to your father, too, I think."

"He already knows you," I reminded him.

"As your boyfriend, I mean."

I stared at him with suspicion. "Why?"

"Isn't that customary?" he asked innocently.

"I don't know," I admitted. My dating history gave me few reference
points to work with. Not that any normal rules of dating applied here.
"That's not necessary, you know. I don't expect you to… I mean, you don't
have to pretend for me."

His smile was patient. "I'm not pretending."

I pushed the remains of my cereal around the edges of the bowl, biting my
lip.

"Are you going to tell Charlie I'm your boyfriend or not?" he demanded.

"Is that what you are?" I suppressed my internal cringing at the thought
of Edward and Charlie and the word boy friend all in the same room at the
same time.

"It's a loose interpretation of the word 'boy,' I'll admit."

"I was under the impression that you were something more, actually," I
confessed, looking at the table.

"Well, I don't know if we need to give him all the gory details." He
reached across the table to lift my chin with a cold, gentle finger. "But
he will need some explanation for why I'm around here so much. I don't
want Chief Swan getting a restraining order put on me."

"Will you be?" I asked, suddenly anxious. "Will you really be here?"

"As long as you want me," he assured me.

"I'll always want you," I warned him. "Forever."

He walked slowly around the table, and, pausing a few feet away, he
reached out to touch his fingertips to my cheek. His expression was
unfathomable.

"Does that make you sad?" I asked.

He didn't answer. He stared into my eyes for an immeasurable period of
time.

"Are you finished?" he finally asked.

I jumped up. "Yes."

"Get dressed — I'll wait here."

It was hard to decide what to wear. I doubted there were any etiquette
books detailing how to dress when your vampire sweetheart takes you home
to meet his vampire family. It was a relief to think the word to myself.
I knew I shied away from it intentionally.

I ended up in my only skirt — long, khaki-colored, still casual. I put on
the dark blue blouse he'd once complimented. A quick glance in the mirror
told me my hair was entirely impossible, so I pulled it back into a pony
tail.

"Okay." I bounced down the stairs. "I'm decent."

He was waiting at the foot of the stairs, closer than I'd thought, and I
bounded right into him. He steadied me, holding me a careful distance
away for a few seconds before suddenly pulling me closer.

"Wrong again," he murmured in my ear. "You are utterly indecent — no one
should look so tempting, it's not fair."

"Tempting how?" I asked. "I can change…"

He sighed, shaking his head. "You are so absurd." He pressed his cool
lips delicately to my forehead, and the room spun. The smell of his
breath made it impossible to think.

"Shall I explain how you are tempting me?" he said. It was clearly a
rhetorical question. His fingers traced slowly down my spine, his breath
coming more quickly against my skin. My hands were limp on his chest, and
I felt lightheaded again. He tilted his head slowly and touched his cool
lips to mine for the second time, very carefully, parting them slightly.

And then I collapsed.

"Bella?" His voice was alarmed as he caught me and held me up.

"You… made… me… faint," I accused him dizzily.

"What am I going to do with you?" he groaned in exasperation. "Yesterday
I kiss you, and you attack me! Today you pass out on me!"

I laughed weakly, letting his arms support me while my head spun.

"So much for being good at everything," he sighed.

"That's the problem." I was still dizzy. "You're too good. Far, far too

good."

"Do you feel sick?" he asked; he'd seen me like this before.

"No — that wasn't the same kind of fainting at all. I don't know what
happened." I shook my head apologeticallv, "I think I forgot to breathe."

"I can't take you anywhere like this."

"I'm fine," I insisted. "Your family is going to think I'm insane anyway,
what's the difference?"

He measured my expression for a moment. "I'm very partial to that color
with your skin," he offered unexpectedly. I flushed with pleasure, and
looked away.

"Look, I'm trying really hard not to think about what I'm about to do, so
can we go already?" I asked.

"And you're worried, not because you're headed to meet a houseful of
vampires, but because you think those vampires won't approve of you,
correct?"

"That's right," I answered immediately, hiding my surprise at his casual
use of the word.

He shook his head. "You're incredible."

I realized, as he drove my truck out of the main part of town, that I had
no idea where he lived. We passed over the bridge at the Calawah River,
the road winding northward, the houses flashing past us growing farther
apart, getting bigger. And then we were past the other houses altogether,
driving through misty forest. I was trying to decide whether to ask or be
patient, when he turned abruptly onto an unpaved road. It was unmarked,
barely visible among the ferns. The forest encroached on both sides,
leaving the road ahead only discernible for a few meters as it twisted,
serpentlike, around the ancient trees.

And then, after a few miles, there was some thinning of the woods, and we
were suddenly in a small meadow, or was it actually a lawn? The gloom of
the forest didn't relent, though, for there were six primordial cedars
that shaded an entire acre with their vast sweep of branches. The trees
held their protecting shadow right up to the walls of the house that rose
among them, making obsolete the deep porch that wrapped around the first
story.

I don't know what I had expected, but it definitely wasn't this. The
house was timeless, graceful, and probably a hundred years old. It was
painted a soft, faded white, three stories tall, rectangular and well
proportioned. The windows and doors were either part of the original
structure or a perfect restoration. My truck was the only car in sight. I
could hear the river close by, hidden in the obscurity of the forest.

"Wow."

"You like it?" He smiled.

"It… has a certain charm."

He pulled the end of my ponytail and chuckled.

"Ready?" he asked, opening my door.

"Not even a little bit — let's go." I tried to laugh, but it seemed to
get stuck in my throat. I smoothed my hair nervously.

"You look lovely." He took my hand easily, without thinking about it.

We walked through the deep shade up to the porch. I knew he could feel my
tension; his thumb rubbed soothing circles into the back of my hand.

He opened the door for me.

The inside was even more surprising, less predictable, than the exterior.
It was very bright, very open, and very large. This must have originally
been several rooms, but the walls had been removed from most of the first
floor to create one wide space. The back, south-facing wall had been
entirely replaced with glass, and, beyond the shade of the cedars, the
lawn stretched bare to the wide river. A massive curving staircase
dominated the west side of the room. The walls, the high-beamed ceiling,
the wooden floors, and the thick carpets were all varying shades of white.

Waiting to greet us, standing just to the left of the door, on a raised
portion of the floor by a spectacular grand piano, were Edward's parents.

I'd seen Dr. Cullen before, of course, yet I couldn't help but be struck
again by his youth, his outrageous perfection. At his side was Esme, I
assumed, the only one of the family I'd never seen before. She had the
same pale, beautiful features as the rest of them. Something about her
heart-shaped face, her billows of soft, caramel-colored hair, reminded me
of the ingénues of the silent-movie era. She was small, slender, yet less
angular, more rounded than the others. They were both dressed casually,
in light colors that matched the inside of the house. They smiled in
welcome, but made no move to approach us. Trying not to frighten me, I
guessed.

"Carlisle, Esme," Edward's voice broke the short silence, "this is Bella."

"You're very welcome, Bella." Carlisle's step was measured, careful as he
approached me. He raised his hand tentatively, and I stepped forward to
shake hands with him.

"It's nice to see you again, Dr. Cullen."

"Please, call me Carlisle."

"Carlisle." I grinned at him, my sudden confidence surprising me. I could
feel Edward's relief at my side.

Esme smiled and stepped forward as well, reaching for my hand. Her cold,
stone grasp was just as I expected.

"It's very nice to know you," she said sincerely.

"Thank you. I'm glad to meet you, too." And I was. It was like meeting a
fairy tale — Snow White, in the flesh.

"Where are Alice and Jasper?" Edward asked, but no one answered, as they
had just appeared at the top of the wide staircase.

"Hey, Edward!" Alice called enthusiastically. She ran down the stairs, a
streak of black hair and white skin, coming to a sudden and graceful stop
in front of me. Carlisle and Esme shot warning glances at her, but I
liked it. It was natural — for her, anyway.

"Hi, Bella!" Alice said, and she bounced forward to kiss my cheek. If
Carlisle and Esme had looked cautious before, they now looked staggered.
There was shock in my eyes, too, but I was also very pleased that she
seemed to approve of me so entirely. I was startled to feel Edward
stiffen at my side. I glanced at his face, but his expression was
unreadable.

"You do smell nice, I never noticed before," she commented, to my extreme
embarrassment.

No one else seemed to know quite what to say, and then Jasper was there —
tall and leonine. A feeling of ease spread through me, and I was suddenly
comfortable despite where I was. Edward stared at Jasper, raising one
eyebrow, and I remembered what Jasper could do.

"Hello, Bella," Jasper said. He kept his distance, not offering to shake
my hand. But it was impossible to feel awkward near him.

"Hello, Jasper." I smiled at him shyly, and then at the others. "It's

nice to meet you all — you have a very beautiful home," I added
conventionally.

"Thank you," Esme said. "We're so glad that you came." She spoke with
feeling, and I realized that she thought I was brave.

I also realized that Rosalie and Emmett were nowhere to be seen, and I
remembered Edward's too-innocent denial when I'd asked him if the others
didn't like me.

Carlisle's expression distracted me from this train of thought; he was
gazing meaningfully at Edward with an intense expression. Out of the
corner of my eye, I saw Edward nod once.

I looked away, trying to be polite. My eyes wandered again to the
beautiful instrument on the platform by the door. I suddenly remembered
my childhood fantasy that, should I ever win a lottery, I would buy a
grand piano for my mother. She wasn't really good — she only played for
herself on our secondhand upright — but I loved to watch her play. She
was happy, absorbed — she seemed like a new, mysterious being to me then,
someone outside the "mom" persona I took for granted. She'd put me
through lessons, of course, but like most kids, I whined until she let me
quit.

Esme noticed my preoccupation.

"Do you play?" she asked, inclining her head toward the piano.

I shook my head. "Not at all. But it's so beautiful. Is it yours?"

"No," she laughed. "Edward didn't tell you he was musical?"

"No." I glared at his suddenly innocent expression with narrowed eyes. "I
should have known, I guess."

Esme raised her delicate eyebrows in confusion.

"Edward can do everything, right?" I explained.

Jasper snickered and Esme gave Edward a reproving look.

"I hope you haven't been showing off— it's rude," she scolded.

"Just a bit," he laughed freely. Her face softened at the sound, and they
shared a brief look that I didn't understand, though Esme's face seemed
almost smug.

"He's been too modest, actually," I corrected.

"Well, play for her," Esme encouraged.

"You just said showing off was rude," he objected.

"There are exceptions to every rule," she replied.

"I'd like to hear you play," I volunteered.

"It's settled then." Esme pushed him toward the piano. He pulled me
along, sitting me on the bench beside him.

He gave me a long, exasperated look before he turned to the keys.

And then his fingers flowed swiftly across the ivory, and the room was
filled with a composition so complex, so luxuriant, it was impossible to
believe only one set of hands played. I felt my chin drop, my mouth open
in astonishment, and heard low chuckles behind me at my reaction.

Edward looked at me casually, the music still surging around us without a
break, and winked. "Do you like it?"

"You wrote this?" I gasped, understanding.

He nodded. "It's Esme's favorite."

I closed my eyes, shaking my head.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm feeling extremely insignificant."

The music slowed, transforming into something softer, and to my surprise
I detected the melody of his lullaby weaving through the profusion of
notes.

"You inspired this one," he said softly. The music grew unbearably sweet.

I couldn't speak.

"They like you, you know," he said conversationally. "Esme especially."

I glanced behind me, but the huge room was empty now.

"Where did they go?"

"Very subtly giving us some privacy, I suppose."

I sighed. "They like me. But Rosalie and Emmett…" I trailed off, not sure
how to express my doubts.

He frowned. "Don't worry about Rosalie," he said, his eyes wide and
persuasive. "She'll come around."

I pursed my lips skeptically. "Emmett?"

"Well, he thinks I'm a lunatic, it's true, but he doesn't have a problem
with you. He's trying to reason with Rosalie."

"What is it that upsets her?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the
answer.

He sighed deeply. "Rosalie struggles the most with… with what we are.
It's hard for her to have someone on the outside know the truth. And
she's a little jealous."

"Rosalie is jealous of me?" I asked incredulously. I tried to imagine a
universe in which someone as breathtaking as Rosalie would have any
possible reason to feel jealous of someone like me.

"You're human." He shrugged. "She wishes that she were, too."

"Oh," I muttered, still stunned. "Even Jasper, though…"

"That's really my fault," he said. "I told you he was the most recent to
try our way of life. I warned him to keep his distance."

I thought about the reason for that, and shuddered.

"Esme and Carlisle… ?" I continued quickly, to keep him from noticing.

"Are happy to see me happy. Actually, Esme wouldn't care if you had a
third eye and webbed feet. All this time she's been worried about me,
afraid that there was something missing from my essential makeup, that I
was too young when Carlisle changed me… She's ecstatic. Every time I
touch you, she just about chokes with satisfaction."

"Alice seems very… enthusiastic."

"Alice has her own way of looking at things," he said through tight lips.

"And you're not going to explain that, are you?"

A moment of wordless communication passed between us. He realized that I
knew he was keeping something from me. I realized that he wasn't going to
give anything away. Not now.

"So what was Carlisle telling you before?"

His eyebrows pulled together. "You noticed that, did you?"

I shrugged. "Of course."

He looked at me thoughtfully for a few seconds before answering. "He
wanted to tell me some news — he didn't know if it was something I would
share with you."

"Will you?"

"I have to, because I'm going to be a little… overbearingly protective
over the next few days — or weeks — and I wouldn't want you to think I'm
naturally a tyrant."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, exactly. Alice just sees some visitors coming soon.
They know we're here, and they're curious."

"Visitors?"

"Yes… well, they aren't like us, of course — in their hunting habits, I
mean. They probably won't come into town at all, but I'm certainly not
going to let you out of my sight till they're gone."

I shivered.

"Finally, a rational response!" he murmured. "I was beginning to think
you had no sense of self-preservation at all."

I let that one pass, looking away, my eyes wandering again around the
spacious room.

He followed my gaze. "Not what you expected, is it?" he asked, his voice
smug.

"No," I admitted.

"No coffins, no piled skulls in the corners; I don't even think we have
cobwebs… what a disappointment this must be for you," he continued slyly.

I ignored his teasing. "It's so light… so open."

He was more serious when he answered. "It's the one place we never have
to hide."

The song he was still playing, my song, drifted to an end, the final
chords shifting to a more melancholy key. The last note hovered
poignantly in the silence.

"Thank you," I murmured. I realized there were tears in my eyes. I dabbed
at them, embarrassed.

He touched the corner of my eye, trapping one I missed. He lifted his
finger, examining the drop of moisture broodingly. Then, so quickly I
couldn't be positive that he really did, he put his finger to his mouth
to taste it.

I looked at him questioningly, and he gazed back for a long moment before
he finally smiled.

"Do you want to see the rest of the house?"

"No coffins?" I verified, the sarcasm in my voice not entirely masking
the slight but genuine anxiety I felt.

He laughed, taking my hand, leading me away from the piano.

"No coffins," he promised.

We walked up the massive staircase, my hand trailing along the
satin-smooth rail. The long hall at the top of the stairs was paneled
with a honey-colored wood, the same as the floorboards.

"Rosalie and Emmett's room… Carlisle's office… Alice's room…" He gestured
as he led me past the doors.

He would have continued, but I stopped dead at the end of the hall,
staring incredulously at the ornament hanging on the wall above my head.
Edward chuckled at my bewildered expression.

"You can laugh," he said. "It is sort of ironic."

I didn't laugh. My hand raised automatically, one finger extended as if
to touch the large wooden cross, its dark patina contrasting with the
lighter tone of the wall. I didn't touch it, though I was curious if the
aged wood would feel as silky as it looked.

"It must be very old," I guessed.

He shrugged. "Early sixteen-thirties, more or less."

I looked away from the cross to stare at him.

"Why do you keep this here?" I wondered.

"Nostalgia. It belonged to Carlisle's father."

"He collected antiques?" I suggested doubtfully.

"No. He carved this himself. It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the
vicarage where he preached."

I wasn't sure if my face betrayed my shock, but I returned to gazing at
the simple, ancient cross, just in case. I quickly did the mental math;
the cross was over three hundred and seventy years old. The silence
stretched on as I struggled to wrap my mind around the concept of so many
years.

"Are you all right?" He sounded worried.

"How old is Carlisle?" I asked quietly, ignoring his question, still
staring up.

"He just celebrated his three hundred and sixty-second birthday," Edward
said. I looked back at him, a million questions in my eyes.

He watched me carefully as he spoke.

"Carlisle was born in London, in the sixteen-forties, he believes. Time
wasn't marked as accurately then, for the common people anyway. It was
just before Cromwell's rule, though."

I kept my face composed, aware of his scrutiny as I listened. It was
easier if I didn't try to believe.

"He was the only son of an Anglican pastor. His mother died giving birth
to him. His father was an intolerant man. As the Protestants came into
power, he was enthusiastic in his persecution of Roman Catholics and
other religions. He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil.
He led hunts for witches, werewolves… and vampires." I grew very still at
the word. I'm sure he noticed, but he went on without pausing.

"They burned a lot of innocent people — of course the real creatures that
he sought were not so easy to catch.

"When the pastor grew old, he placed his obedient son in charge of the
raids. At first Carlisle was a disappointment; he was not quick to
accuse, to see demons where they did not exist. But he was persistent,
and more clever than his father. He actually discovered a coven of true
vampires that lived hidden in the sewers of the city, only coming out by

night to hunt. In those days, when monsters were not just myths and
legends, that was the way many lived.

"The people gathered their pitchforks and torches, of course" — his brief
laugh was darker now — "and waited where Carlisle had seen the monsters
exit into the street. Eventually one emerged."

His voice was very quiet; I strained to catch the words.

"He must have been ancient, and weak with hunger. Carlisle heard him call
out in Latin to the others when he caught the scent of the mob. He ran
through the streets, and Carlisle — he was twenty-three and very fast —
was in the lead of the pursuit. The creature could have easily outrun
them, but Carlisle thinks he was too hungry, so he turned and attacked.
He fell on Carlisle first, but the others were close behind, and he
turned to defend himself. He killed two men, and made off with a third,
leaving Carlisle bleeding in the street."

He paused. I could sense he was editing something, keeping something from
me.

"Carlisle knew what his father would do. The bodies would be burned —
anything infected by the monster must be destroyed. Carlisle acted
instinctively to save his own life. He crawled away from the alley while
the mob followed the fiend and his victim. He hid in a cellar, buried
himself in rotting potatoes for three days. It's a miracle he was able to
keep silent, to stay undiscovered.

"It was over then, and he realized what he had become."

I'm not sure what my face was revealing, but he suddenly broke off.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I assured him. And, though I bit my lip in hesitation, he
must have seen the curiosity burning in my eyes.

He smiled. "I expect you have a few more questions for me."

"A few."

His smile widened over his brilliant teeth. He started back down the
hall, pulling me along by the hand. "Come on, then," he encouraged. "I'll
show you."
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离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
举报 只看该作者 14楼  发表于: 2012-08-14 0
第十四章 精神胜于物质
第十四章 精神胜于物质

当他把速度保持在合理水平时，他确实可以开得很好，我不得不承认这一点。就像很多事情一样，这似乎对他来说毫不费力。他很少看路面，轮胎却从未偏离过小路的正中间，一公分也没有偏离过。他单手开着车，在座位上牵着我的手。有时候他会抬头看向正在落下的太阳，有时他会看着我——我的脸，我飘拂在敞开的车窗外的头发，我们交叠的手。

他打开了收音机，转到一个老歌电台，然后跟着一首我从未听过的歌唱了起来。他知道每一个节拍。

“你喜欢五十年代的音乐？”我问道。

“五十年代的音乐很棒。比六十年代的，或者七十年代的还要棒，唷！”他颤抖了一下。“八十年代的还能忍受。”

“你打算告诉我你多大了吗？”我试探性问道，不想打破他正在兴头上的幽默气氛。

“这很重要吗？”让我宽慰的是，他的笑容依然明朗。

“不，但我还是想知道……”我扮了个鬼脸。“没有什么能像一个未解之谜一样让你整夜睡不着觉。”

“我怀疑这是否会让你心烦。”他的回应更像是自言自语。他看着太阳，时间一分一秒地过去了。

“让我试试看。”我最终说道。

他叹息着，然后看向了我的眼睛，那一刻他似乎完全忘记了路况。不管他看见了什么，那一定鼓励了他。他看向太阳——那个正在落下的球体发出的光芒在他的肌肤上闪耀着，折射出略带深红色的微光——然后说话了。

“我出生在1901年的芝加哥。”他停下来，用眼角的余光瞥着我。我的脸上是小心翼翼的毫不惊讶的神情，我耐心地等待着下文。他淡淡一笑，然后继续说道。“1918年的夏天，卡莱尔在一家医院里发现了我。我才十七岁，正因为西班牙流感而濒临死亡。”

他听见了我倒抽一口冷气的声音，尽管这声音小得几乎只有我自己能听见。他低下头，再次看着我的眼睛。

“我记不太清了——那是很久以前的事了，而人类的记忆总在褪色。”他陷入了沉思，片刻之后，接着说道。“我确实还记得，卡莱尔救我时的感觉。那不是件容易的事，不是你轻易可以忘掉的事。”

“你的父母呢？”

“他们都已经在这场瘟疫中死去了。我成了孤儿。这就是为什么他选择了我。在瘟疫流行的一片混乱中，没人会注意到我不见了。”

“他是怎样……救你的？”

几分钟后，他才回答了我的问题。他似乎在谨慎地选择着字眼。

“这很困难。我们中没几个人有足够的自制力来做到这件事。但卡莱尔总是我们之中最人道的，最慈悲的那个……我不认为你能在整个人类历史中找到可与他相提并论的人。”他顿了顿。“但对我来说，整个过程都仅仅是非常，非常的痛苦。”

我能从他的口吻看出，他不会再说更多关于这个话题的内容了。我按捺住自己的好奇，尽管它远没有消停下来。对于这个特殊的问题我还有很多事情需要考虑，而这些事情才刚刚闯入我的脑海。毫无疑问，他敏捷的头脑已经理解了困扰着我的每一个方面。

他柔和的声音打断了我的思路：“他是出于寂寞才这样做的。这通常是他作出选择的原因。我是第一个加入卡莱尔的家族的，虽然不久以后他就发现了艾思梅。她从悬崖上跳了下来。人们径直把她送到了医院的太平间，虽然不知怎的，她的心脏还在跳动。”

“所以你必须处于濒死的状态，然后，才能变成……”我们从没说过这个词，我不知道该怎么描述它。

“不，这只是卡莱尔的做法。只要那人还有别的选择，他就绝不会这样做。”无论何时他提到他的父亲，他话语里的敬意总是那么的深厚。“不过，他说这样确实会更容易些。”他继续说道。“如果气血很虚的话。”他看着现在漆黑一片的路面，我能感觉到，这个话题又到此为止了。  
“然后是艾美特和罗莎莉？”

“接着卡莱尔把罗莎莉带进了我们的家族。很久以后我才了解到，他希望她能和我在一起，就像艾思梅和他一样——他很小心，从不在我周围想这件事。”他转了转眼睛。“但对我来说，她只是一个妹妹。仅仅过了两年，她找到了艾美特。她正在狩猎——那时我们住在阿巴拉契亚山区——发现一只熊正要把他干掉。她背着他跑了一百多英里，回来找卡莱尔，她怕自己做不来这件事。我现在才想到，这段旅途对她来说是多么的不易。”他直率地瞥了一眼我的方向，然后拿起我们的手，依然紧握着，用他的手背轻抚着我的脸颊。

“但她做到了。”我鼓励着，别开脸不去看他那双美得无法承受的眼睛。

“是的，”他喃喃低语道。“她从他脸上看到了某种东西，这让她足够坚强。从那以后他们就在一起了。有时候他们不和我们一起住，就像一对结了婚的夫妇一样。但我们装得越年轻，我们就能在选中的地方待越久。福克斯很不错，所以我们都进了高中。”他大笑起来。“我猜再过几年我们又得参加他们的婚礼了。”

“爱丽丝和贾斯帕？”

“爱丽丝和贾斯帕是两个非常特别的个体。他们都在没有任何外界指导的情况下养成了我们所欣赏的那种道德心。贾斯帕属于另一个……家族，一个非常不一样的家族。他变得沮丧起来，于是开始独自流浪。爱丽丝发现了他。和我一样，她拥有着一种基于但又超越了我们个人特质的天赋。”

“真的？”我打断了他的话，有些着迷。“可你说过你是唯一一个能听到别人的思想的人。”

“那是事实。她通晓的是另一些事情。她能看见一些事——一些可能会发生的事物，一些正要到来的事物。但这非常地主观。未来并不是一成不变的。事物都是变化发展的。”

当他说到这里时，他的下巴一紧，他的眼睛飞快地瞥了一眼我的脸又移开了。这一切太快了，我不敢肯定是否是我自己想象出来的。

“她看见了什么样的事情。”

“她看见了贾斯帕，知道在他知道她的存在以前，他就在寻找着她了。她看到了卡莱尔和我们的家族，所以他们一起来找我们。她对非人为的事情最为敏感。她总在看着，例如，当另一伙我们的同类靠近时。还有任何他们可能带来的威胁。”

“有很多……你的同类吗？”我太吃惊了。有多少他们这样的人在我们中行走而不被察觉呢？

“不，不是很多。但大多数不会定居下来。只有那些和我们一样，放弃了猎食你们人类”——他羞愧地看了我一眼——“能多多少少和人类共居。我们只发现了一个像我们这样的家族，他们住在阿拉斯加的一个小村落里。我们一起住过一段时间，但我们这么多人住在一起太引人注目了。那些生活方式和我们……很不一样的同类倾向于联合起来。”

“另一些人是？”

“游牧者，大多数情况下是这样。我们有时候会这样生活。这样的生活很乏味，和别的事情一样。但我们时不时会碰见别的同类，因为我们中的大多数人更喜欢北方。”

“为什么会这样呢？”

现在我们把车停在了我家前，他已经把卡车的引擎关掉了。外面非常安静，非常黑，月亮没有出来。门廊的灯关着，所以我知道我爸爸还没到家。

“你今天下午没有睁开眼睛吗？”他揶揄道。“你认为我能在洒满阳光的街道上行走而不引发任何交通事故吗。这正是我们选择奥林匹亚半岛的缘故，这里几乎是世界上阳光最不充足的地方。在白天能够到外面去是件很棒的事。你不会相信，在这八十多年里你会多么地厌倦夜晚。”

“所以这就是那种传说的来源？”

“很有可能。”  
“而爱丽丝来自另一个家族，就像贾斯帕一样？”

“不，这一切还是个谜。爱丽丝完全不记得她还是人类时的生活。她也不知道是谁创造了她。她独自醒来。转变她的人已经走了。我们都不能理解为什么，或者，他是怎么能做到的。如果不是她拥有第六感，如果她没有看到贾斯帕和卡莱尔，知道她终有一日将成为我们中的一员，她也许早就变成了一个彻底的未开化的原始人了。”

我有太多的事情要思考，还有很多的问题要问。但是，让我尴尬不已的是，我的胃咆哮起来。我太好奇了，甚至没有注意到自己饿了。现在我才意识到，我已经饿坏了。

“对不起，我一直没让你去吃晚餐。”

“我很好，真的。”

“我从没和需要吃东西的人一起度过这么长的时间。我忘了。”

“我只想和你待在一起。”在黑暗中这话更容易说出口。当我说的时候，我知道自己的声音会背叛我，把我绝望的迷恋向他表露无遗。

“我不能进去吗？”他问道。

“你愿意吗？”我根本想象不出这样的画面，这样宛如神祗的人物坐在我父亲那张破烂的餐椅上。

“是的，如果可以的话。”我听到他那边的门安静地关上了，而几乎就在同一时刻，他出现在了我这一侧的门外，为我打开门。

“很像人类。”我恭维他。

“这只是表面工夫。”

在这个夜晚，他静静地走在我身旁，他太安静了，以至于我不得不时不时偷看他，确认他还在那里。在黑暗中，他看起来更正常些。依然苍白，依然俊美得宛如梦境，但不再是我们的阳光灿烂的下午里，那个奇妙的闪闪发光的造物。

他比我先走到门前，然后替我开了门。我正要跨进门框里，却半路停住了。

“门没锁？”

“不，我用的是屋檐下的钥匙。”

我走进屋，打开门廊灯，然后转过身来扬起眉看着他。我很确定我从没在他面前用过那根钥匙。

“我对你很好奇。”

“你监视我？”但无论如何我都没法让自己的声音充满恰当的愤怒。我被过度奉承了。

他依然不知悔改。“夜里还能有别的事情可做吗？”

我暂时丢卡这个话题，穿过前厅走向厨房。他在我之前就到了那里，无需任何引导。他就坐在我在脑海里想象过的那张椅子里。他的俊美点亮了这间厨房。我花了一点时间才能把视线移开。

我集中精神准备自己的晚餐，从冰箱里拿出昨晚的意大利番茄汁宽面条，切下一方放在盘子里，微波炉加热。它旋转着，厨房里弥漫着番茄和洋葱的味道。当我说话的时候，我并没有把眼睛从那盘食物上移开。

“多久一次？”我若无其事地问道。

“呃嗯？”他听起来似乎在想别的事情，我的发问把他的思绪拉了回来。

我还是没有转身。“你多久来这里一次？”

“我几乎每天晚上都来这里。”

我大为震撼，急忙转过身来。“为什么？”

“你睡着的时候很有趣。”他实话实说。“你会说话。”

“不！”我喘着气说道，热血涌上了我的脸，一路冲到发际线上。我抓住流理台以稳住身子。我当然知道自己会说梦话，我母亲还为此取笑过我。但是，我从没想过这会是我需要担心的事情。

他的神情立刻变得苦恼起来。“你很生我的气吗？”

“那得看情况！”我感觉到，也能听到，我在大口大口地喘息着。

他等待着。

“基于？”他催促着。

“你听到了什么！”我哀号道。  
一转眼，他已经悄无声息地站到我身旁，双手小心地握住我的手。

“别生气！”他恳求道。他俯下脸，和我的眼睛落在同一水平线上，对上了我的目光。我很窘迫，想要移开视线。

“你很思念你的母亲。”他耳语道。“你在担心她。下雨的时候，那声音总让你休息不好。你原来常在说家里的事，但现在少多了。有一次你说，‘这里太绿了。’”他温和地笑着，期待着——我能看出来——不致于太过冒犯我。

“没有别的了？”我诘问道。

他知道我说的是什么。“你确实说过我的名字。”他坦白道。

我挫败地叹息着。“经常？”

“更确切些，你的‘经常’是指多频繁？”

“哦不！”我垂下头。

他把我拉到他的胸前，动作是那么的温柔，那么的自然。

“别难为情，”他在我的耳畔低语着。“如果我能做梦，那一定都是关于你的梦。而且我也不会为此感到羞愧的。”

然后我们都听到了轮胎行走在砖砌的车道上的生气，看见了车灯从前窗里照进来，穿过前厅落到我们身上。我僵在了他的怀里。

“你父亲应该知道我在这里吗？”他问道。

“我不能肯定……”我试图迅速地思考这件事。

“那么下次吧……”

然后我又是独自一人了。

“爱德华！”我嘘声唤道。

我听到一声幽灵般的轻笑，然后什么也听不到了。

我父亲正在用钥匙开门。

“贝拉？”他喊道。这样的问话之前曾经让我困扰过，还能有谁呢？但忽然间他似乎没那么脱离现实了。

“在这里。”我希望他没听出我的声音里竭斯底里的味道。当他走进来的时候，我从微波炉里抓出我的晚餐，坐到了桌子旁。在我和爱德华度过了一整天以后，他的脚步声听起来格外嘈杂。

“能给我也弄一点宽面条吗？我太累了。”他站着把靴子脱下来，抓住爱德华的椅子以保持平衡。

我拿着盘子，一边给他弄晚餐，一边狼吞虎咽地把自己的面条吃完。我的舌头被烫到了。当他的面条在加热的时候，我倒了两杯牛奶，然后大口大口地喝着我那杯，好让那团火焰冷却下来。当我把杯子放下来的时候，我注意到杯里的牛奶在抖动，然后意识到自己的手正在颤抖。查理坐在那张椅子里，他和之前坐在那里的那人之间的对比很是滑稽。

“谢谢。”当我把食物放到桌子上的时候他说道。

“你今天过得怎么样？”我问道。这话说得太仓促了。我迫不及待地想要逃回我自己的房间。

“好极了。那些鱼都咬钩了……你呢？你把想做的事情都做完了吗？”

“没有——外面的天气太好了，待在屋里太可惜了。”我又咬了一大口宽面条。

“今天天气很好。”他赞同道。多么保守的描述，我自忖着。

吃完最后一口意大利面后，我拿起我的杯子，咕噜咕噜地喝完了剩下的牛奶。

查理正密切关注着我，他很惊讶。“你赶时间？”

“是的，我累了。我要早点上床睡觉。”

“你看上去有点兴奋。”他注意到了。为什么，哦为什么，他今晚就非得这么留心注意呢？

“有吗？”我想方设法也只能作出这样的答复。我飞快地把我的盘子在水槽里擦洗干净，然后用抹布把它们擦干。

“今天是星期六。”他若有所思地说道。

我没有回答。

“今晚没安排吗？”他忽然问道。

“不，爸爸，我只是想去睡觉。”

“镇里没有一个男孩是你喜欢的类型，嗯？”他很怀疑，但努力抑制住了自己的情绪。

“没有，还没有一个男孩能吸引我的眼球。”我小心地不去过分强调我的话里“男孩”那个词，以保持对查理的诚实态度。

“我以为也许迈克.牛顿……你说过他很友好。”

“他只是个朋友，爸爸。”

“好吧，无论如何你都太棒了，他们配不上你。等你上了大学再开始找吧。”每个父亲的梦想，就是自己的女儿会在荷尔蒙起作用以前离开家。  
“听起来对我来说是个不错的主意。”我赞同道，冲上楼。

“晚安，甜心。”他在我身后喊道。毫无疑问，他整晚都会竖起耳朵听着，等着我偷偷溜出去。

“明早见，爸爸。”午夜你摸进我房间检查我时见。

当我走上楼梯去回房里时，我设法让自己的脚步声听起来缓慢又疲倦。我用力关上门好让他听见，然后踮起脚尖走到窗前。我打开窗户，侧着身子探进夜色里。我的眼睛在一片黑暗中搜寻着，搜索着那片深不可测的树阴。

“爱德华？”我低声喊着，觉得自己像个彻头彻尾的傻瓜。

一个安静的，暗笑着的回答从我背后传来。“怎么了？”

我急忙转过身来，惊讶地伸出手飞快地掩住了自己的喉头。

他横躺在我的床上，笑得很是开怀，他的手交叠在头后，他的脚在床边上晃悠着，一派怡然自得的画面。

“哦！”我喘息着说，有些不稳地跌坐在地板上。

“我很抱歉。”他闭上嘴，试图隐藏住他的快乐。

“给我一分钟，好让我的心脏重新启动。”

他慢慢地坐起来，以免再次吓到我。然后他向前侧过身来，伸出他长长的胳膊把我拉起来，紧握着我的肘弯，好像我还是个蹒跚学步的孩子。他让我坐到了床上，紧挨着他坐下。

“为什么你不和我一起坐，”他建议着，把一只冰冷的手放到了我的手上。“心脏怎么样？”

“你来告诉我——我相信你比我听得更清楚。”

我感觉到他安静的笑声让这张床震动起来。

我们沉默地坐了片刻，都在听着我的心跳放慢下来。我想到，爱德华在我的房间里，而我爸爸在家里。

“能给我一分钟当回人类吗？”我问道。

“当然。”他用一只手示意我继续。

“呆着别动。”我说道，试图摆出严厉的样子。

“遵命，夫人。”然后他坐在我的床边，夸张地表现出变成一尊雕像的样子。

我跳起来，从地板上抓起我的睡衣，从桌子上拿起我的洗漱包。我没开灯，冲出去关上了门。

我能听到楼梯下传来的电视声。我砰地一声用力关上了门，这样查理就不会上来烦我了。

我想要更快一些。我粗暴地刷着牙，试图做得既彻底又迅速，除掉所有意大利宽面条的痕迹。但喷头里的热水可不赶时间。热水纾解了我背上的肌肉，让我的脉搏镇定下来。我所熟悉的洗发水的味道让我感觉到自己还是今天早上的那个我。我试着不去想爱德华，他正坐在我房间里，等着我。因为那样的话，我又得把整个让自己冷静下来的步骤重来一遍。最终，我再也不能拖延了。我关掉水龙头，慌忙地裹上浴巾，又开始匆忙起来。我穿上那件有洞的T恤衫和一条灰色的运动裤。已经太迟了，我真后悔没带那套“维多利亚的秘密”牌丝绸睡衣，那是上上次生日时我母亲送给我的礼物，它们依然连标签都没拆，放在我家那边的衣橱的某个角落里。

我又开始用毛巾擦着头发，然后飞快地用发刷用力地梳着头发。我把毛巾扔进洗衣篮里，把发刷和牙膏扔进包里。然后我冲下楼梯，这样查理就能看见我已经穿着睡衣，头发湿漉漉的。

“晚安，爸爸。”

“晚安，贝拉。”他看上去确实被我的形象吓到了。也许这会让他今晚不再来检查我。

我一次迈过两级楼梯，试图让自己的脚步安静些，然后飞奔回房里，紧紧地关上身后的门。

爱德华甚至没有移动过零点一英寸，他看上去像坐在我褪色的被子上的一尊阿多尼斯雕像。我笑了起来，他的嘴唇扭曲着，这尊雕像复活了。  

他的眼睛审视着我，看着湿漉漉的头发，破烂的恤衫。他扬起一侧眉毛。“不错。”

我扮了个鬼脸。

“不，看上去很适合你。”

“谢谢。”我耳语道。我走回他那边，盘着腿坐到他旁边。我看着木地板上的纹路。

“这一切是为什么呢？”

“查理认为我打算偷溜出去。”

“哦。”他冥思苦想着。“为什么？”就好像他不知道查理的想法，不了解得比我猜想的还有透彻一样。

“很显然，我看上去有点过度亢奋。”

他托起我的下颌，审视着我的脸。

“确实，你看上去非常温暖。”

他慢慢地把脸俯向我的脸，把他冰冷的脸颊贴在我的肌肤上。我定在那里，不敢动弹。

“嗯……”他喘息着说。

当他触碰着我时，要构思出一个密切相关的问题实在是件很困难的事。我花了一分钟才把涣散的注意力集中起来，开口说话。

“这似乎……对你来说，靠近我，现在，变得容易些了。”

“对你来说也是吗？”他喃喃低语道，他的鼻子滑过我尖尖的下颌。我感觉到他的手，比飞蛾的翅膀还要轻柔地，把我湿漉漉的头发往后拨开，这样他的唇就能吻到我耳后的凹处。

“更，更容易了。”我说着，努力呼吸。

“呃嗯。”

“所以我想知道……”我又开始了，但他的手指缓慢地描过我的锁骨，我完全失去了思路。

“嗯？”他喘息着说道。

“那是为什么，”我的声音颤抖着，这让我很是窘迫。“你认为呢？”

当他大笑起来时，我感觉到他的呼吸在我的脖子上颤动着。“精神胜于物质。”

我把身子退回去，当我挪动时，他僵住了——然后我再也听不到他呼吸的声音了。

我们警惕地注视着彼此，片刻之后，他紧绷的下颌渐渐放松下来，他的神情变得困惑起来。

“我做错什么了吗？”

“不——恰好相反。你快要让我发狂了。”我解释道。

他简略地想了想，然后当他说话的时候，他听起来很愉悦。“真的？”一个胜利的微笑慢慢浮现在他脸上。

“你需要来点掌声吗？”我讽刺地问道。

他咧嘴一笑。

“我只是又惊又喜。”他澄清道。“在过去的差不多一百年里，”他的声音有些苦恼，“我从没想象过任何类似这样的事情。我不相信我能找到我想要在一起的那个人……以不同于我的兄弟姐妹们的方式。然后，我找到了（我发现了），尽管这一切对我来说是全新的，我却如此擅长于此……只要和你在一起……”

“你擅长所有的事。”我指出来。

他耸耸肩，对此表示默认，然后我们都低声地大笑起来。

“可这一切现在为什么会变得那么容易呢？”我强调道。“今天下午……”

“这并不容易，”他叹息着说。“但今天下午，我依然……犹豫不决。我对此很抱歉，我居然做出那样的事，实在是不可原谅。”

“并不是不可原谅的。”我不同意。

“谢谢。”他笑了起来。“你看，”他继续说着，却垂下了头。“我不能肯定我是否足够坚强……”他拿起我的一只手，轻轻地按在他脸上。“依然存在着这样的可能性，我可能会被……征服”——他深吸着我手腕上的味道——“我还是……很容易受影响。只有当我下定决心时，我才足够坚强。这样才不会有任何可能性，任何我会……我可能……”

我从没见过他这样艰难地挣扎着，选择着合适的词语。这一切是那么的……像人类。

“所以现在没有任何可能性咯？”

“精神胜于物质。”他重复道，笑了起来，他的皓齿即使在黑暗中依然是那么的明亮。

“哇噢，那就容易多了。”我说道。

他仰起头，大笑起来，安静地像在耳语，但依然生气勃勃。

“对你来说是容易！”他更正道，用指尖轻抚着我的鼻子。  

然后他的脸忽然严峻起来。

“我在尝试。”他耳语道，他的声音充满了痛苦。“如果情况变得……太过头。我相当肯定我能够离开。”

我皱起眉。我不喜欢谈到离开。

“而明天这会变得更加艰难，”他继续说道。“今天一整天我的脑子里都是你的味道，我变得很不敏感了。如果我离开你一段时间的话，我又得从头开始了。不过，我想，至少不算是从零开始。”

“那就别离开。”我答道，无法藏起我声音里的渴望。

“这正合我意。”他回应道，他的脸放松下来，变成一个温柔的微笑。“戴上枷锁——我是你的囚徒。”但当他说着的时候，他长长的手臂环住了我的腰，形成了一个铁箍。他安静地笑起来，笑声有如天籁。他今晚笑得很多，比我和他在一起的所有时间里我所听到的还要多。

“你似乎……比平常更乐观了。”我评论道。“我之前从没见过你像这样。”

“不应该像这样吗？”他笑着说。“初恋的荣耀，还有所有的这一切。这简直难以置信，不是吗，经历过，与读到过，和在画里看到过，是如此的不一样？”

“非常不一样，”我赞同道。“比我想象过的还有强烈得多。”

“例如”——他说话变得迅速起来，我不得不集中精力去捕捉每一个字——“嫉妒的情绪。我读到过这种情绪千万次，在一千部不同的戏剧和电影里看过演员对此的演绎。我相信自己对此的理解非常透彻，但它却震撼了我……”他扮了个鬼脸。“你还记得迈克邀请你去舞会那天吗？”

我点了点头，不过我记得那一天却是出于一个完全不同的理由。“那天你又开始和我说话了。”

“我被那阵一闪而过，几近狂暴的愤怒惊呆了，我所感觉到的——起初我根本分辨不出这是什么样的情绪。我不知道你在想什么，这种挫败感比平时来得还要严重，因为我不知道你为什么拒绝他。仅仅是为了你的朋友的缘故吗？还是为了某个人？我知道我没有权利去关心这些方面。我努力不让自己去关心这些。”

“然后排队邀请你的队伍开始形成了。”他轻笑起来。我在黑暗中把脸绷起来。

“我等待着，焦虑不安得毫无理由地，想要听到你会对他们说什么，想要看见你的表情。我无法否认，当看到你脸上烦恼的神情时，我感到一阵宽慰。但我不能肯定。

那是我第一次晚上来这里。当我看着你的睡容时，我整夜都在挣扎着，在我知道是正确的，合乎道德的，合乎伦理的，和我想要的之间挣扎着，有如困于深谷之中。我知道如果我做我该做的事，继续无视你，或者离开几年，直到你走回再回来，那么总有一天，你会对迈克，或者类似的人，点头应许的。这种想法让我愤怒。

然后，”他耳语道。“当你睡着的时候，你说出了我的名字。你说得那么清晰，开始我还以为你醒着。可你不得安生地翻来覆去，又一次喃喃地念着我的名字，还叹息着。胆怯和震惊的感觉传遍了我的全身。然后我知道，我再也无法无视你了。”他沉默了片刻，也许是在听我的心脏突如其来的砰砰乱响。  

“可是嫉妒……是一件奇怪的事情。远比我曾经想到过的，更为有力。而且不合常理！就在刚才，当查理向你问到那个卑鄙的迈克.牛顿……”他生气地摇着头。

“我应该知道你在听的。”我呻吟着。

“当然。”

“不过，这让你感到了嫉妒，真的？”

“我在这方面完全是个新手；你唤醒了我身上属于人类的感情，而且每一种感觉都更为强烈，因为它们对我来说都是新奇的存在。”

“但诚恳地说，”我揶揄道，“和困扰着你的这一切相比，在我听说了罗莎莉——罗莎莉，那个纯净的美的化身，罗莎莉——对你的意义以后，有艾美特或者没有艾美特，我又怎能和她竞争呢？”

“这完全没有可比性。”他的牙齿隐约可见。他拉起我受困的双手，环绕着他的背，然后把我抱在他的胸前。我尽可能保持静止不动，甚至是小心翼翼地呼吸着。

“我知道这完全没有可比性。”我对着他冰冷的肌肤嘟哝着。“这才是问题所在。”

“当然，罗莎莉是她那种类型的美人，但即使她对我来说不像是个妹妹，即使艾美特没有和她在一起，她也永远不可能得到你从我这里得到的，十分之一，不，百分之一的注意力。”他现在很认真，露出深思熟虑的神情。“在差不多九十年的时光里，我在自己的同类中，还有你的同类中度过……我始终想着自己，完全没有察觉到我在寻找着什么。也什么都没找到，因为你还没出现在这个世界上。”

“这太不公平了。”我耳语道。我的脸依然紧贴在他的胸口，听着他的呼吸。“我根本不用等待。为什么我能这么容易就得到了呢？”

“你说得很对，”他打趣地赞同道。“确实，我应该让这对你来说更艰难些的。”他松开了一只手，放开我的腰，只是为了更小心地用另一只手抱紧我。他温柔地捋着我微湿的头发，从我的头顶一直捋到我的腰间。“你只需要在和我在一起的每一分钟都冒着生命危险。这确实还不太够。你只需要背离天性，背离人性……这些的代价有多大？”

“非常小——我从未感觉到被剥夺任何事情。”

“只是还没有。”他的声音突然充满了远古的悲伤。

我试图拉回身子，好看着他的脸，但他的手紧紧扣着我的腰，完全挣脱不开。

“什么——”我正要问，他的身体忽然警觉起来。我僵住了，但他立刻放开了我的手，然后消失了。我只能勉强不让自己趴倒在床上。

“躺下！”他嘘声说道。在黑暗中我分辨不出他的声音是从哪里传出来的。

我在被子底下蜷缩起来，弓着身子侧躺着，就像我平时睡觉时那样。我听到门被推开了，查理溜进来，确认我是否在应该在的地方。我平稳地呼吸着，夸大着这个动作。

漫长的一分钟过去了。我听着，但不能确认我是否听到了门关上的声音。然后爱德华冰冷的胳膊在被子下抱住我，他的唇紧贴着我的耳朵。

“你真是个蹩脚的演员——我敢说演艺之路离你遥不可及。”

“倒霉！”我喃喃低语道。我的心在我的胸口剧烈跳动着。  

他哼起了一首曲子，我认不出来是什么曲子，听起来像是一首摇篮曲。

他停了下来。“我能唱着歌让你入睡吗？”

“很好，”我大笑起来。“就好像有你在这里我还能睡着一样！”

“你一直都是这样做的。”他提醒我。

“可我不知道你在这里。”我冷淡地回应道。

“所以如果你不想睡觉……”他无视我的语气，提议道。我屏住了呼吸。

“如果我不想睡觉……？”

他轻笑起来。“那你想做什么？”

我没办法立刻回答。

“我不能肯定。”我最终说道。

“等你决定了，告诉我。”

我能感觉到他冰冷的呼吸轻拂着我的脖子，感觉到他的鼻子滑过我的下颌，吸着气。

“我想你没那么敏感了。”

“这只是因为，我克制着自己不去品尝美酒，但不意味着我不懂得欣赏酒的芬芳。”他耳语道。“你的味道如同花香，像薰衣草……或者鸢尾，”他评价道。“这令人垂涎欲滴。”

“是啊，今天是一个休息日，如果不是有人告诉我我闻起来有多么好吃的话。”

他轻笑起来，然后叹了口气。

“我已经决定我想要做什么了，”我告诉他。“我想听到更多关于你的事。”

“问什么都行。”

我仔细筛选着我的问题，从最重要的先开始。“你为什么要这样做？”我说。“我还是不明白你为什么要这样努力地去抵抗你……的本性。请不要误会，当然我很欣赏你所做的一切。我只是看不懂你起初为什么会如此费心地做这件事。”

他迟疑着，然后回答道。“这是个好问题，你不是第一个这样问的人。别人——我们的同类中的大多数人都满足于我们的命运——他们，同样，怀疑着我们的生活方式。但你看，只因为我们被……被分配到了确定的方向……这并不意味着我们就不能选择去克服——去征服一个我们都不想要的命运的界限。努力去保留我们所能留住的任何本质的人性。”

我一动不动地躺着，满怀敬畏地锁定在沉默中。

“你睡着了吗？”几分钟以后，他低语道。

“没有。”

“这就是你好奇着的全部事情了？”

我转了转眼睛。“当然不是。”

“你还想知道什么？”

“为什么你可以读心——为什么只有你能？还有爱丽丝，她能看见未来……为什么会发生这样的事呢？”

我感觉到他在黑暗中耸了耸肩。“我们不能确切地知道是为什么。卡莱尔有一个理论……他相信我们都把自己的最强烈的人类特质带进了第二次生命中，而在这次生命里，它们被强化了——就像我们的头脑，和我们的感觉一样。他认为从前的我一定对周围人的想法非常地敏感。而爱丽丝，不管她之前待在哪里，她拥有某种预知的能力。”

“他把什么带进了他的第二次生命，还有别人呢？”

“卡莱尔带来了他的怜悯心。艾思梅带来了她强烈的爱的能力。艾美特带来了他的强壮，罗莎莉带来了她的……固执。也许你可以称之为执迷不悟。”他轻笑起来。“贾斯帕非常地有趣。他在第一次生命中非常地有领导魅力，能够影响周围的人，让他们按他的方式去看待事情。现在他能够操纵周围人的情绪——例如，让一屋子愤怒的人冷静下来，或者相反地，让一群昏昏欲睡的人亢奋起来。这是一种非常不可思议的天赋。”

我思索着他所描述的那些不可思议的事情，试图把它们消化掉。他耐心地等待着我的思考。

“那么一切是怎么开始的呢？我是指，卡莱尔转变了你，而一定是有某人转变了他，然后诸如此类……”

“好吧，你是从哪里来的？进化论？造物论？难道我们不能像别的物种一样进化吗，掠食者和被掠食者？或者，如果你不相信整个世界的起源就是它现在这个样子——这一点让我很难接受我自己——有这么难相信是那种创造了精致的天使鱼和鲨鱼，小海豹和杀人鲸的力量，一起创造了我们的种族吗？”

“让我来把事情理清楚——我是小海豹，对吧？”

“没错。”他大笑起来，然后某种东西触碰着我的头发——他的唇？

我想要转向他，想看看是不是真的是他的唇在吻着我的发。但我得乖一点，我不想让情况变得对他来说更为艰难，这已经很难为他了。

“你准备要睡了吗？”他问道，打断了这阵短暂的沉默。“或者说，你还有任何问题要问吗？”

“只剩一两百万个。”

“我们还有明天，后头，大后天……”他提醒我。我微笑着，对这个念头很是愉悦。

“你确定你不会在早上消失不见？”我想得到确认。“毕竟，你是个谜。”

“我不会离开你的。”他的声音里有着绝对保证的意味。

“那么，最后一个，今晚……”我脸红了。黑暗毫无作用——我确定他能感觉到我肌肤下突如其来的热度。

“那是什么？”

“不，忘掉它，我改变注意了。”

“贝拉，你可以问我任何问题。”

我没有回答，然后他呻吟着说。

“我一直认为这件事，听不到你的想法，会渐渐变得不那么让我挫败，。但这只是越来越糟。”

“我很高兴你不能读我的心。这和你偷听我说梦话一样糟。”

“求你了？”他的声音是那么的有说服力，那么的难以抗拒。

我摇了摇头。

“如果你不告诉我，我只会把它想得比它本身还要糟。”他阴森森地恐吓道。“求你了？”又来了，那种恳求的语气。

“好吧，”我开始说道，很高兴他看不见我的脸。

“嗯？”

“你说罗莎莉和艾美特很快就要结婚了……那种……婚姻……和人类的婚姻一样吗？”

现在他真诚地笑了起来，完全明白过来。“那就是你说的意思吗？”

我不安着，没办法作出回答。

“是的，我想这是一样的。”他说道。“我告诉过你，大多数人类的欲望都还存在着，只是隐藏在了更为强烈的欲望之后。”

“哦，”是我所能说的全部的话了。

“你的好奇心背后有什么意图吗？”

“嗯，我确实怀疑……关于你和我……终有一天……”

他立刻严肃起来，我能从他身体忽然的静止中分辨出来。我也僵住了，完全是下意识的反应。

“我不认为这……这……对我们来说有任何的可能性。”

“因为这对你来说太困难了，如果我是那么的……靠近的话？”    

“这确实是个问题。但不是我在想的问题。这只是因为你太柔软了，太脆弱了。我不得不每时每刻都注意着自己的动作，这样我们在一起时我才不会伤到你。我依然很有可能杀了你，贝拉，即使只是意外。”他的声音变成了一种柔和的喃喃低语。他把他冰冷的手掌放到了我的脸颊上。“如果我太草率……如果有一秒我没有给予足够的注意力，我可能伸出手，本来是想抚摸你的脸，然后错误地压碎了你的头盖骨。你不会意识到，你自己是那么的易碎，柔弱得让人难以置信。当我和你在一起的时候，我绝对，绝对不能有半点的失控。”

他等着我回答，但我没有，他开始不安起来。“你吓到了？”他问道。

我等了一分钟才回答，以便说出的是真话。“不，我很好。”

他似乎深思熟虑了片刻。“不过，现在我很好奇。”他说道，他的声音又轻松起来。“你曾经……？”他的声音逐渐减弱，让人浮想联翩。

“当然没有。”我满脸通红。“我告诉过你，我之前从未对别人有过这种感觉，甚至没这么靠近过。”

“我知道。这只是因为我能知道别人的想法。我知道爱和性并不总是结伴而行的。”

“它们对我来说是这样的。现在，无论如何，它们已经这样发生在我身上了。”我叹息道。

“很好，至少，我们有一点共通的地方。”他听起来很满意。

“你的人类直觉……”我开始说道，他等待着。“嗯，到底，你发现我有吸引力吗，在那个方面，？”

他大笑起来，然后轻轻地弄乱了我几乎全干了的头发。

“我也许不是个人类，但我是个男人。”他向我保证。

我无意地打了个哈欠。

“我已经回答了你的问题了，现在你该睡觉了。”他坚持道。

“我不能肯定我能否睡着。”

“你想要我离开吗？”

“不！”我说道太大声了。

他大笑起来，然后又开始哼原来那首不熟悉的摇篮曲了，那个天使的声音，在我的耳中显得那么的温柔。

在这漫长的充满了我从未感觉过的精神压力和情绪波动的一天以后，我筋疲力尽，比我感觉到的还有疲倦。我在他冰冷的怀中沉沉睡去。
14. MIND OVER MATTER

He could drive well, when he kept the speed reasonable, I had to admit.
Like so many things, it seemed to be effortless to him. He barely looked
at the road, yet the tires never deviated so much as a centimeter from
the center of the lane. He drove one-handed, holding my hand on the seat.
Sometimes he gazed into the setting sun, sometimes he glanced at me — my
face, my hair blowing out the open window, our hands twined together.

He had turned the radio to an oldies station, and he sang along with a
song I'd never heard. He knew every line.

"You like fifties music?" I asked.

"Music in the fifties was good. Much better than the sixties, or the
seventies, ugh!" He shuddered. "The eighties were bearable."

"Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?" I asked, tentative, not
wanting to upset his buoyant humor.

"Does it matter much?" His smile, to my relief, remained unclouded.

"No, but I still wonder…" I grimaced. "There's nothing like an unsolved
mystery to keep you up at night."

"I wonder if it will upset you," he reflected to himself. He gazed into
the sun; the minutes passed.

"Try me," I finally said.

He sighed, and then looked into my eyes, seeming to forget the road
completely for a time. Whatever he saw there must have encouraged him. He
looked into the sun — the light of the setting orb glittered off his skin
in ruby-tinged sparkles — and spoke.

"I was born in Chicago in 1901." He paused and glanced at me from the
corner of his eyes. My face was carefully unsurprised, patient for the
rest. He smiled a tiny smile and continued. "Carlisle found me in a
hospital in the summer of 1918. I was seventeen, and dying of the Spanish
influenza."

He heard my intake of breath, though it was barely audible to my own
ears. He looked down into my eyes again.

"I don't remember it well — it was a very long time ago, and human
memories fade." He was lost in his thoughts for a short time before he
went on. "I do remember how it felt, when Carlisle saved me. It's not an
easy thing, not something you could forget."

"Your parents?"

"They had already died from the disease. I was alone. That was why he
chose me. In all the chaos of the epidemic, no one would ever realize I
was gone."

"How did he… save you?"

A few seconds passed before he answered. He seemed to choose his words
carefully.

"It was difficult. Not many of us have the restraint necessary to
accomplish it. But Carlisle has always been the most humane, the most
compassionate of us… I don't think you could find his equal throughout
all of history." He paused. "For me, it was merely very, very painful."

I could tell from the set of his lips, he would say no more on this
subject. I suppressed my curiosity, though it was far from idle. There
were many things I needed to think through on this particular issue,
things that were only beginning to occur to me. No doubt his quick mind

had already comprehended every aspect that eluded me.

His soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "He acted from loneliness. That's
usually the reason behind the choice. I was the first in Carlisle's
family, though he found Esme soon after. She fell from a cliff. They
brought her straight to the hospital morgue, though, somehow, her heart
was still beating."

"So you must be dying, then, to become…" We never said the word, and I
couldn't frame it now.

"No, that's just Carlisle. He would never do that to someone who had
another choice." The respect in his voice was profound whenever he spoke
of his father figure. "It is easier he says, though," he continued, "if
the blood is weak." He looked at the now-dark road, and I could feel the
subject closing again.

"And Emmett and Rosalie?"

"Carlisle brought Rosalie to our family next. I didn't realize till much
later that he was hoping she would be to me what Esme was to him — he was
careful with his thoughts around me." He rolled his eyes. "But she was
never more than a sister. It was only two years later that she found
Emmett. She was hunting — we were in Appalachia at the time — and found a
bear about to finish him off. She carried him back to Carlisle, more than
a hundred miles, afraid she wouldn't be able to do it herself. I'm only
beginning to guess how difficult that journey was for her." He threw a
pointed glance in my direction, and raised our hands, still folded
together, to brush my cheek with the back of his hand.

"But she made it," I encouraged, looking away from the unbearable beauty
of his eyes.

"Yes," he murmured. "She saw something in his face that made her strong
enough. And they've been together ever since. Sometimes they live
separately from us, as a married couple. But the younger we pretend to
be, the longer we can stay in any given place. Forks seemed perfect, so
we all enrolled in high school." He laughed. "I suppose we'll have to go
to their wedding in a few years, again."

"Alice and Jasper?"

"Alice and Jasper are two very rare creatures. They both developed a
conscience, as we refer to it, with no outside guidance. Jasper belonged
to another… family, a very different kind of family. He became depressed,
and he wandered on his own. Alice found him. Like me, she has certain
gifts above and beyond the norm for our kind."

"Really?" I interrupted, fascinated. "But you said you were the only one
who could hear people's thoughts."

"That's true. She knows other things. She sees things — things that might
happen, things that are coming. But it's very subjective. The future
isn't set in stone. Things change."

His jaw set when he said that, and his eyes darted to my face and away so
quickly that I wasn't sure if I only imagined it.

"What kinds of things does she see?"

"She saw Jasper and knew that he was looking for her before he knew it
himself. She saw Carlisle and our family, and they came together to find
us. She's most sensitive to non-humans. She always sees, for example,
when another group of our kind is coming near. And any threat they may
pose."

"Are there a lot of… your kind?" I was surprised. How many of them could
walk among us undetected?

"No, not many. But most won't settle in any one place. Only those like
us, who've given up hunting you people" — a sly glance in my direction —
"can live together with humans for any length of time. We've only found

one other family like ours, in a small village in Alaska. We lived
together for a time, but there were so many of us that we became too
noticeable. Those of us who live… differently tend to band together."

"And the others?"

"Nomads, for the most part. We've all lived that way at times. It gets
tedious, like anything else. But we run across the others now and then,
because most of us prefer the North."

"Why is that?"

We were parked in front of my house now, and he'd turned off the truck.
It was very quiet and dark; there was no moon. The porch light was off so
I knew my father wasn't home yet.

"Did you have your eyes open this afternoon?" he teased. "Do you think I
could walk down the street in the sunlight without causing traffic
accidents? There's a reason why we chose the Olympic Peninsula, one of
the most sunless places in the world. It's nice to be able to go outside
in the day. You wouldn't believe how tired you can get of nighttime in
eighty-odd years."

"So that's where the legends came from?"

"Probably."

"And Alice came from another family, like Jasper?"

"No, and that is a mystery. Alice doesn't remember her human life at all.
And she doesn't know who created her. She awoke alone. Whoever made her
walked away, and none of us understand why, or how, he could. If she
hadn't had that other sense, if she hadn't seen Jasper and Carlisle and
known that she would someday become one of us, she probably would have
turned into a total savage."

There was so much to think through, so much I still wanted to ask. But,
to my great embarrassment, my stomach growled. I'd been so intrigued, I
hadn't even noticed I was hungry. I realized now that I was ravenous.

"I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from dinner."

"I'm fine, really."

"I've never spent much time around anyone who eats food. I forget."

"I want to stay with you." It was easier to say in the darkness, knowing
as I spoke how my voice would betray me, my hopeless addiction to him.

"Can't I come in?" he asked.

"Would you like to?" I couldn't picture it, this godlike creature sitting
in my father's shabby kitchen chair.

"Yes, if it's all right." I heard the door close quietly, and almost
simultaneously he was outside my door, opening it for me.

"Very human," I complimented him.

"It's definitely resurfacing."

He walked beside me in the night, so quietly I had to peek at him
constantly to be sure he was still there. In the darkness he looked much
more normal. Still pale, still dreamlike in his beauty, but no longer the
fantastic sparkling creature of our sunlit afternoon.

He reached the door ahead of me and opened it for me. I paused halfway
through the frame.

"The door was unlocked?"

"No, I used the key from under the eave."

I stepped inside, flicked on the porch light, and turned to look at him
with my eyebrows raised. I was sure I'd never used that key in front of
him.

"I was curious about you."

"You spied on me?" But somehow I couldn't infuse my voice with the proper
outrage. I was flattered.

He was unrepentant. "What else is there to do at night?"

I let it go for the moment and went down the hall to the kitchen. He was
there before me, needing no guide. He sat in the very chair I'd tried to
picture him in. His beauty lit up the kitchen. It was a moment before I
could look away.

I concentrated on getting my dinner, taking last night's lasagna from the
fridge, placing a square on a plate, heating it in the microwave. It
revolved, filling the kitchen with the smell of tomatoes and oregano. I
didn't take my eyes from the plate of food as I spoke.

"How often?" I asked casually.

"Hmmm?" He sounded as if I had pulled him from some other train of
thought.

I still didn't turn around. "How often did you come here?"

"I come here almost every night."

I whirled, stunned. "Why?"

"You're interesting when you sleep." He spoke matter-of-factly. "You
talk."

"No!" I gasped, heat flooding my face all the way to my hairline. I
gripped the kitchen counter for support. I knew I talked in my sleep, of
course; my mother teased me about it. I hadn't thought it was something I
needed to worry about here, though.

His expression shifted instantly to chagrin. "Are you very angry with me?"

"That depends!" I felt and sounded like I'd had the breath knocked out of
me.

He waited.

"On?" he urged.

"What you heard!" I wailed.

Instantly, silently, he was at my side, taking my hands carefully in his.

"Don't be upset!" he pleaded. He dropped his face to the level of my
eyes, holding my gaze. I was embarrassed. I tried to look away.

"You miss your mother," he whispered. "You worry about her. And when it
rains, the sound makes you restless. You used to talk about home a lot,
but it's less often now. Once you said, 'It's too green.'" He laughed
softly, hoping, I could see, not to offend me further.

"Anything else?" I demanded.

He knew what I was getting at. "You did say my name," he admitted.

I sighed in defeat. "A lot?"

"How much do you mean by 'a lot,' exactly?"

"Oh no!" I hung my head.

He pulled me against his chest, softly, naturally.

"Don't be self-conscious," he whispered in my ear. "If I could dream at
all, it would be about you. And I'm not ashamed of it."

Then we both heard the sound of tires on the brick driveway, saw the
headlights flash through the front windows, down the hall to us. I
stiffened in his arms.

"Should your father know I'm here?" he asked.

"I'm not sure…" I tried to think it through quickly.

"Another time then…"

And I was alone.

"Edward!" I hissed.

I heard a ghostly chuckle, then nothing else.

My father's key turned in the door.

"Bella?" he called. It had bothered me before; who else would it be?
Suddenly he didn't seem so far off base.

"In here." I hoped he couldn't hear the hysterical edge to my voice. I
grabbed my dinner from the microwave and sat at the table as he walked
in. His footsteps sounded so noisy after my day with Edward.

"Can you get me some of that? I'm bushed." He stepped on the heels of his
boots to take them off, holding the back of Edward's chair for support.

I took my food with me, scarfing it down as I got his dinner. It burned
my tongue. I filled two glasses with milk while his lasagna was heating,
and gulped mine to put out the fire. As I set the glass down, I noticed
the milk trembling and realized my hand was shaking. Charlie sat in the
chair, and the contrast between him and its former occupant was comical.

"Thanks," he said as I placed his food on the table.

"How was your day?" I asked. The words were rushed; I was dying to escape
to my room.

"Good. The fish were biting… how about you? Did you get everything done
that you wanted to?"

"Not really — it was too nice out to stay indoors." I took another big
bite.

"It was a nice day," he agreed. What an understatement, I thought to
myself.

Finished with the last bite of lasagna, I lifted my glass and chugged the
remains of my milk.

Charlie surprised me by being observant. "In a hurry?"

"Yeah, I'm tired. I'm going to bed early."

"You look kinda keyed up," he noted. Why, oh why, did this have to be his
night to pay attention?

"Do I?" was all I could manage in response. I quickly scrubbed my dishes
clean in the sink, and placed them upside down on a dish towel to dry.

"It's Saturday," he mused.

I didn't respond.

"No plans tonight?" he asked suddenly.

"No, Dad, I just want to get some sleep."

"None of the boys in town your type, eh?" He was suspicious, but trying
to play it cool.

"No, none of the boys have caught my eye yet." I was careful not to
over-emphasize the word boys in my quest to be truthful with Charlie.

"I thought maybe that Mike Newton… you said he was friendly."

"He's Just a friend, Dad."

"Well, you're too good for them all, anyway. Wait till you get to college
to start looking." Every father's dream, that his daughter will be out of
the house before the hormones kick in.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," I agreed as I headed up the stairs.

"'Night, honey," he called after me. No doubt he would be listening
carefully all evening, waiting for me to try to sneak out.

"See you in the morning, Dad." See you creeping into my room tonight at
midnight to check on me.

I worked to make my tread sound slow and tired as I walked up the stairs
to my room. I shut the door loud enough for him to hear, and then
sprinted on my tiptoes to the window. I threw it open and leaned out into
the night. My eyes scanned the darkness, the impenetrable shadows of the
trees.

"Edward?" I whispered, feeling completely idiotic.

The quiet, laughing response came from behind me. "Yes?"

I whirled, one hand flying to my throat in surprise.

He lay, smiling hugely, across my bed, his hands behind his head, his
feet dangling off the end, the picture of ease.

"Oh!" I breathed, sinking unsteadily to the floor.

"I'm sorry." He pressed his lips together, trying to hide his amusement.

"Just give me a minute to restart my heart."

He sat up slowly, so as not to startle me again. Then he leaned forward
and reached out with his long arms to pick me up, gripping the tops of my
arms like I was a toddler. He sat me on the bed beside him.

"Why don't you sit with me," he suggested, putting a cold hand on mine.
"How's the heart?"

"You tell me — I'm sure you hear it better than I do."

I felt his quiet laughter shake the bed.

We sat there for a moment in silence, both listening to my heartbeat
slow. I thought about having Edward in my room, with my father in the
house.

"Can I have a minute to be human?" I asked.

"Certainly." He gestured with one hand that I should proceed.

"Stay," I said, trying to look severe.

"Yes, ma'am." And he made a show of becoming a statue on the edge of my
bed.

I hopped up, grabbing my pajamas from off the floor, my bag of toiletries
off the desk. I left the light off and slipped out, closing the door.

I could hear the sound from the TV rising up the stairs. I banged the
bathroom door loudly, so Charlie wouldn't come up to bother me.

I meant to hurry. I brushed my teeth fiercely, trying to be thorough and
speedy, removing all traces of lasagna. But the hot water of the shower
couldn't be rushed. It unknotted the muscles in my back, calmed my pulse.
The familiar smell of my shampoo made me feel like I might be the same
person I had been this morning. I tried not to think of Edward, sitting
in my room, waiting, because then I had to start all over with the
calming process. Finally, I couldn't delay anymore. I shut off the water,
toweling hastily, rushing again. I pulled on my holey t-shirt and gray
sweatpants. Too late to regret not packing the Victoria's Secret silk
pajamas my mother got me two birthdays ago, which still had the tags on
them in a drawer somewhere back home.

I rubbed the towel through my hair again, and then yanked the brush
through it quickly. I threw the towel in the hamper, flung my brush and
toothpaste into my bag. Then I dashed down the stairs so Charlie could
see that I was in my pajamas, with wet hair.

"'Night, Dad."

"'Night, Bella." He did look startled by my appearance. Maybe that would
keep him from checking on me tonight.

I took the stairs two at a time, trying to be quiet, and flew into my
room, closing the door tightly behind me.

Edward hadn't moved a fraction of an inch, a carving of Adonis perched on
my faded quilt. I smiled, and his lips twitched, the statue coming to
life.

His eyes appraised me, taking in the damp hair, the tattered shirt. He
raised one eyebrow. "Nice."

I grimaced.

"No, it looks good on you."

"Thanks," I whispered. I went back to his side, sitting cross-legged
beside him. I looked at the lines in the wooden floor.

"What was all that for?"

"Charlie thinks I'm sneaking out."

"Oh." He contemplated that. "Why?" As if he couldn't know Charlie's mind
much more clearly than I could guess.

"Apparently, I look a little overexcited."

He lifted my chin, examining my face.

"You look very warm, actually."

He bent his face slowly to mine, laying his cool cheek against my skin. I
held perfectly still.

"Mmmmmm…" he breathed.

It was very difficult, while he was touching me, to frame a coherent
question. It took me a minute of scattered concentration to begin.

"It seems to be… much easier for you, now, to be close to me."

"Does it seem that way to you?" he murmured, his nose gliding to the
corner of my jaw. I felt his hand, lighter than a moth's wing, brushing
my damp hair back, so that his lips could touch the hollow beneath my ear.

"Much, much easier," I said, trying to exhale.

"Hmm."

"So I was wondering…" I began again, but his fingers were slowly tracing
my collarbone, and I lost my train of thought.

"Yes?" he breathed.

"Why is that," my voice shook, embarrassing me, "do you think?"

I felt the tremor of his breath on my neck as he laughed. "Mind over
matter."

I pulled back; as I moved, he froze — and I could no longer hear the
sound of his breathing.

We stared cautiously at each other for a moment, and then, as his
clenched jaw gradually relaxed, his expression became puzzled.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No — the opposite. You're driving me crazy," I explained.

He considered that briefly, and when he spoke, he sounded pleased.
"Really?" A triumphant smile slowly lit his face.

"Would you like a round of applause?" I asked sarcastically.

He grinned.

"I'm just pleasantly surprised," he clarified. "In the last hundred years
or so," his voice was teasing, "I never imagined anything like this. I
didn't believe I would ever find someone I wanted to be with… in another
way than my brothers and sisters. And then to find, even though it's all
new to me, that I'm good at it… at being with you…"

"You're good at everything," I pointed out.

He shrugged, allowing that, and we both laughed in whispers.

"But how can it be so easy now?" I pressed. "This afternoon…"

"It's not easy," he sighed. "But this afternoon, I was still… undecided.
I am sorry about that, it was unforgivable for me to behave so."

"Not unforgivable," I disagreed.

"Thank you." He smiled. "You see," he continued, looking down now, "I
wasn't sure if I was strong enough…" He picked up one of my hands and
pressed it lightly to his face. "And while there was still that
possibility that I might be… overcome" — he breathed in the scent at my
wrist — "I was… susceptible. Until I made up my mind that I was strong
enough, that there was no possibility at all that I would… that I ever
could…"

I'd never seen him struggle so hard for words. It was so… human.

"So there's no possibility now?"

"Mind over matter," he repeated, smiling, his teeth bright even in the
darkness.

"Wow, that was easy," I said.

He threw back his head and laughed, quietly as a whisper, but still
exuberantly.

"Easy for you!" he amended, touching my nose with his fingertip.

And then his face was abruptly serious.

"I'm trying," he whispered, his voice pained. "If it gets to be… too
much, I'm fairly sure I'll be able to leave."

I scowled. I didn't like the talk of leaving.

"And it will be harder tomorrow," he continued. "I've had the scent of
you in my head all day, and I've grown amazingly desensitized. If I'm
away from you for any length of time, I'll have to start over again. Not
quite from scratch, though, I think."

"Don't go away, then," I responded, unable to hide the longing in my
voice.

"That suits me," he replied, his face relaxing into a gentle smile.
"Bring on the shackles — I'm your prisoner." But his long hands formed
manacles around my wrists as he spoke. He laughed his quiet, musical
laugh. He'd laughed more tonight than I'd ever heard in all the time I'd
spent with him.

"You seem more… optimistic than usual," I observed. "I haven't seen you
like this before."

"Isn't it supposed to be like this?" He smiled. "The glory of first love,
and all that. It's incredible, isn't it, the difference between reading
about something, seeing it in the pictures, and experiencing it?"

"Very different," I agreed. "More forceful than I'd imagined."

"For example" — his words flowed swiftly now, I had to concentrate to
catch it all — "the emotion of jealousy. I've read about it a hundred
thousand times, seen actors portray it in a thousand different plays and
movies. I believed I understood that one pretty clearly. But it shocked
me…" He grimaced. "Do you remember the day that Mike asked you to the
dance?"

I nodded, though I remembered that day for a different reason. "The day
you started talking to me again."

"I was surprised by the flare of resentment, almost fury, that I felt — I
didn't recognize what it was at first. I was even more aggravated than
usual that I couldn't know what you were thinking, why you refused him.
Was it simply for your friend's sake? Was there someone else? I knew I
had no right to care either way. I tried not to care.

"And then the line started forming," he chuckled. I scowled in the
darkness.

"I waited, unreasonably anxious to hear what you would say to them, to
watch your expressions. I couldn't deny the relief I felt, watching the
annoyance on your face. But I couldn't be sure.

"That was the first night I came here. I wrestled all night, while
watching you sleep, with the chasm between what I knew was right, moral,
ethical, and what I wanted. I knew that if I continued to ignore you as I
should, or if I left for a few years, till you were gone, that someday
you would say yes to Mike, or someone like him. It made me angry.

"And then," he whispered, "as you were sleeping, you said my name. You
spoke so clearly, at first I thought you'd woken. But you rolled over
restlessly and mumbled my name once more, and sighed. The feeling that
coursed through me then was unnerving, staggering. And I knew I couldn't
ignore you any longer." He was silent for a moment, probably listening to
the suddenly uneven pounding of my heart.

"But jealousy… it's a strange thing. So much more powerful than I would
have thought. And irrational! Just now, when Charlie asked you about that
vile Mike Newton…" He shook his head angrily.

"I should have known you'd be listening," I groaned.

"Of course."

"That made you feel jealous, though, really?"

"I'm new at this; you're resurrecting the human in me, and everything

feels stronger because it's fresh."

"But honestly," I teased, "for that to bother you, after I have to hear
that Rosalie — Rosalie, the incarnation of pure beauty, Rosalie — was
meant for you. Emmett or no Emmett, how can I compete with that?"

"There's no competition." His teeth gleamed. He drew my trapped hands
around his back, holding me to his chest. I kept as still as I could,
even breathing with caution.

"I know there's no competition," I mumbled into his cold skin. "That's
the problem."

"Of course Rosalie is beautiful in her way, but even if she wasn't like a
sister to me, even if Emmett didn't belong with her, she could never have
one tenth, no, one hundredth of the attraction you hold for me." He was
serious now, thoughtful. "For almost ninety years I've walked among my
kind, and yours… all the time thinking I was complete in myself, not
realizing what I was seeking. And not finding anything, because you
weren't alive yet."

"It hardly seems fair," I whispered, my face still resting on his chest,
listening to his breath come and go. "I haven't had to wait at all. Why
should I get off so easily?"

"You're right," he agreed with amusement. "I should make this harder for
you, definitely." He freed one of his hands, released my wrist, only to
gather it carefully into his other hand. He stroked my wet hair softly,
from the top of my head to my waist. "You only have to risk your life
every second you spend with me, that's surely not much. You only have to
turn your back on nature, on humanity… what's that worth?"

"Very little — I don't feel deprived of anything."

"Not yet." And his voice was abruptly full of ancient grief.

I tried to pull back, to look in his face, but his hand locked my wrists
in an unbreakable hold.

"What —" I started to ask, when his body became alert. I froze, but he
suddenly released my hands, and disappeared. I narrowly avoided falling
on my face.

"Lie down!" he hissed. I couldn't tell where he spoke from in the
darkness.

I rolled under my quilt, balling up on my side, the way I usually slept.
I heard the door crack open, as Charlie peeked in to make sure I was
where I was supposed to be. I breathed evenly, exaggerating the movement.

A long minute passed. I listened, not sure if I'd heard the door close.
Then Edward's cool arm was around me, under the covers, his lips at my
ear.

"You are a terrible actress — I'd say that career path is out for you."

"Darn it," I muttered. My heart was crashing in my chest.

He hummed a melody I didn't recognize; it sounded like a lullaby.

He paused. "Should I sing you to sleep?"

"Right," I laughed. "Like I could sleep with you here!"

"You do it all the time," he reminded me.

"But I didn't know you were here," I replied icily.

"So if you don't want to sleep…" he suggested, ignoring my tone. My
breath caught.

"If I don't want to sleep… ?"

He chuckled. "What do you want to do then?"

I couldn't answer at first.

"I'm not sure," I finally said.

"Tell me when you decide."

I could feel his cool breath on my neck, feel his nose sliding along my
jaw, inhaling.

"I thought you were desensitized."

"Just because I'm resisting the wine doesn't mean I can't appreciate the
bouquet," he whispered. "You have a very floral smell, like lavender… or
freesia," he noted. "It's mouthwatering."

"Yeah, it's an off day when I don't get somebody telling me how edible I
smell."

He chuckled, and then sighed.

"I've decided what I want to do," I told him. "I want to hear more about
you."

"Ask me anything."

I sifted through my questions for the most vital. "Why do you do it?" I
said. "I still don't understand how you can work so hard to resist what
you… are. Please don't misunderstand, of course I'm glad that you do. I
just don't see why you would bother in the first place."

He hesitated before answering. "That's a good question, and you are not
the first one to ask it. The others — the majority of our kind who are
quite content with our lot — they, too, wonder at how we live. But you
see, just because we've been… dealt a certain hand… it doesn't mean that
we can't choose to rise above — to conquer the boundaries of a destiny
that none of us wanted. To try to retain whatever essential humanity we
can."

I lay unmoving, locked in awed silence.

"Did you fall asleep?" he whispered after a few minutes.

"No."

"Is that all you were curious about?"

I rolled my eyes. "Not quite."

"What else do you want to know?"

"Why can you read minds — why only you? And Alice, seeing the future… why
does that happen?"

I felt him shrug in the darkness. "We don't really know. Carlisle has a
theory… he believes that we all bring something of our strongest human
traits with us into the next life, where they are intensified — like our
minds, and our senses. He thinks that I must have already been very
sensitive to the thoughts of those around me. And that Alice had some
precognition, wherever she was."

"What did he bring into the next life, and the others?"

"Carlisle brought his compassion. Esme brought her ability to love
passionately. Emmett brought his strength, Rosalie her… tenacity. Or you
could call it pigheadedness." he chuckled. "Jasper is very interesting.
He was quite charismatic in his first life, able to influence those
around him to see things his way. Now he is able to manipulate the
emotions of those around him — calm down a room of angry people, for
example, or excite a lethargic crowd, conversely. It's a very subtle

gift."

I considered the impossibilities he described, trying to take it in. He
waited patiently while I thought.

"So where did it all start? I mean, Carlisle changed you, and then
someone must have changed him, and so on…"

"Well, where did you come from? Evolution? Creation? Couldn't we have
evolved in the same way as other species, predator and prey? Or, if you
don't believe that all this world could have just happened on its own,
which is hard for me to accept myself, is it so hard to believe that the
same force that created the delicate angelfish with the shark, the baby
seal and the killer whale, could create both our kinds together?"

"Let me get this straight — I'm the baby seal, right?"

"Right." He laughed, and something touched my hair — his lips?

I wanted to turn toward him, to see if it was really his lips against my
hair. But I had to be good; I didn't want to make this any harder for him
than it already was.

"Are you ready to sleep?" he asked, interrupting the short silence. "Or
do you have any more questions?"

"Only a million or two."

"We have tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…" he reminded me. I
smiled, euphoric at the thought.

"Are you sure you won't vanish in the morning?" I wanted this to be
certain. "You are mythical, after all."

"I won't leave you." His voice had the seal of a promise in it.

"One more, then, tonight…" And I blushed. The darkness was no help — I'm
sure he could feel the sudden warmth under my skin.

"What is it?"

"No, forget it. I changed my mind."

"Bella, you can ask me anything."

I didn't answer, and he groaned.

"I keep thinking it will get less frustrating, not hearing your thoughts.
But it just gets worse and worse."

"I'm glad you can't read my thoughts. It's bad enough that you eavesdrop
on my sleep-talking."

"Please?" His voice was so persuasive, so impossible to resist.

I shook my head.

"If you don't tell me, I'll just assume it's something much worse than it
is," he threatened darkly. "Please?" Again, that pleading voice.

"Well," I began, glad that he couldn't see my face.

"Yes?"

"You said that Rosalie and Emmett will get married soon… Is that…
marriage… the same as it is for humans?"

He laughed in earnest now, understanding. "Is that what you're getting
at?"

I fidgeted, unable to answer.

"Yes, I suppose it is much the same," he said. "I told you, most of those
human desires are there, just hidden behind more powerful desires."

"Oh," was all I could say.

"Was there a purpose behind your curiosity?"

"Well, I did wonder… about you and me… someday…"

He was instantly serious, I could tell by the sudden stillness of his
body. I froze, too, reacting automatically.

"I don't think that… that… would be possible for us."

"Because it would be too hard for you, if I were that… close?"

"That's certainly a problem. But that's not what I was thinking of. It's
just that you are so soft, so fragile. I have to mind my actions every
moment that we're together so that I don't hurt you. I could kill you
quite easily, Bella, simply by accident." His voice had become just a
soft murmur. He moved his icy palm to rest it against my cheek. "If I was
too hasty… if for one second I wasn't paying enough attention, I could
reach out, meaning to touch your face, and crush your skull by mistake.
You don't realize how incredibly breakable you are. I can never, never
afford to lose any kind of control when I'm with you."

He waited for me to respond, growing anxious when I didn't. "Are you
scared?" he asked.

I waited for a minute to answer, so the words would be true. "No. I'm
fine."

He seemed to deliberate for a moment. "I'm curious now, though," he said,
his voice light again. "Have you ever… ?" He trailed off suggestively.

"Of course not." I flushed. "I told you I've never felt like this about
anyone before, not even close."

"I know. It's just that I know other people's thoughts. I know love and
lust don't always keep the same company."

"They do for me. Now, anyway, that they exist for me at all," I sighed.

"That's nice. We have that one thing in common, at least." He sounded
satisfied.

"Your human instincts…" I began. He waited. "Well, do you find me
attractive, in that way, at all?"

He laughed and lightly rumpled my nearly dry hair.

"I may not be a human, but I am a man," he assured me.

I yawned involuntarily.

"I've answered your questions, now you should sleep," he insisted.

"I'm not sure if I can."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" I said too loudly.

He laughed, and then began to hum that same, unfamiliar lullaby; the
voice of an archangel, soft in my ear.

More tired than I realized, exhausted from the long day of mental and
emotional stress like I'd never felt before, I drifted to sleep in his
cold arms.
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离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
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第十三章 自白
第十三章 自白

阳光下的爱德华太惊人了，我还是没能习惯这件事，尽管整个下午我都在盯着他看。他的肌肤，雪白中带着昨天的狩猎之旅带来的淡淡红晕，简直在闪闪发光，就好像有千万颗极小的钻石镶嵌在上面一样。他静静地躺在草地上，看上去是那么的完美，他的衬衫敞开着，露出宛如雕刻成的，光辉夺目的胸膛，他闪闪发光的手臂袒露着。他微微发着光的，淡紫色的眼睑紧闭着，但是，当然他不可能是在睡觉。他就像一座完美的雕像，是用某种未知的，光滑如大理石，灿烂如水晶的石头雕刻而成的。

时不时地，他的嘴唇飞快地动着，仿佛是在颤抖。但是，当我问道的时候，他告诉我他在哼着歌，因为声音太低了所以我听不见。

我同样在享受着阳光，尽管就我的品位而言，这里的空气还不够干爽。我本可以仰躺着，就像他那样，让阳光温暖着我的脸，但我还是蜷伏着躺在那里，下巴紧贴着我的膝盖，不情愿让自己的目光从他身上移开。风是那么的柔和，它吹乱了我的头发，吹皱了小草，摇曳的芳草围着他静止不动的身躯。

这片草地起初对我来说是那么的壮丽，但和他的华美比起来，便逊色多了。

我迟疑着，即使是现在，我也总是担心着，生怕他会像海市蜃楼一样消失，他太美丽了，根本不像现实存在的……我迟疑着伸出了一根手指，轻抚着近在咫尺的，他闪烁着微光的手背。我又一次震惊于那完美的肌理，光洁如绸缎，冰冷如石头。当我再次抬头看去时，他的眼睛睁开了，正看着我。今天他的眼睛是奶油糖果的颜色，在狩猎以后，变得更明亮，更温暖了。一抹轻快的笑容浮现在他毫无瑕疵的唇角。

“我没吓到你吗？”他打趣地问道，但我能听出他柔软的声音里真正的好奇。

“不比平常多。”

他笑得更深了，他的皓齿在阳光下闪闪发光。

我缓缓地挪到更近的地方，张开手伸过去，用指尖描摹着他小臂的轮廓。我看见自己的手指在颤抖着，知道这一切都逃不过他的注意。

“你介意吗？”我问道，因为他又闭上了眼睛。

“不。”他说着，没有睁开眼。“你不会想象到这是什么样的感觉。”他叹息着。

我轻柔地用手抚过他手臂上完美的肌肉，跟随着他肘弯上浅浅的淡蓝色静脉的纹路。我伸出另一只手，想把他的手掌翻过来。他意识到了我想做什么，立刻把掌心翻过来，动作快得看不见，简直让人仓皇失措。他的动作让我吓了一跳，我的手指在他手臂上停滞了片刻、

“对不起。”他低声说道。我立刻抬起头，看到他金色的眼睛又闭上了。“和你在一起让我很放松，很容易做回我自己。”

我拿起他的手，向自己翻过来，这样我就能看见阳光在他手心里闪烁着。我把他的手拿得更靠近自己的脸，试图看清楚藏在他肌肤里的刻面。

“告诉我你在想什么。”他耳语道。我抬起头，看见他正看着我，眼神忽然紧绷起来。“这对我来说很是很奇怪，没办法知道你在想什么。”

“你知道，除你之外的我们所有人始终都是这样，不会知道别人在想什么。”

“这是一种艰难的生活。”他语气里的悔意是我自己想象出来的吗？“但你不告诉我。”

“我只是在希望着我能知道你在想什么……”我迟疑着。

“还有呢？”

“我在希望着我能相信你是真实存在的。我还希望我不是在害怕。”

“我不想让你害怕。”他的声音仅仅是一种柔和的喃喃低语。我听出了他无法深信不疑地说出口的事情——我不必感到害怕，这里没有什么可怕的。  

“嗯，我并没有感到确切的害怕，尽管这确实是要思考的事。”

他的动作太快了，我完全没看见他移动。他半坐起来，用右臂支撑着身体，他的左手掌依然在我的手里。他天使般的面孔离我的脸只有几英寸远。我本可能——本应该——因为他出乎意料的接近而退缩的，但我没法移动。他金色的眸子催眠了我。

“那么，你在害怕着什么？”他专注地看着我，耳语道。

但我没有回答。就像之前我曾经试过一次那样，我闻到了他冰冷的呼吸，呼在我脸上。甜腻，美味，这种香味让我口齿生津。它不像别的任何味道。我本能地，不假思索地靠得更近些，轻嗅着。

然后他消失了，他的手从我的手中挣脱出来。当我凝眸望去的时候，他已在二十英尺外，站在这片小小的草地的边缘，在一棵巨大的杉树的浓重的树荫里。他注视着我，他的眼睛在阴影里暗沉着，他的表情难以读懂。

我能感到自己脸上的痛楚和震惊。我空空的手心刺痛着。

“我……很抱歉……爱德华。”我低声说着。我知道他能听见。

“给我一点时间。”他喊道，声量仅仅是我敏感的耳朵刚能听到的程度。我一动不动地坐着。

在漫长得难以置信的十分钟以后，他用对他来说相当缓慢的速度走过来。他停在了在几英尺外的地方，优雅地坐到了地上，盘起腿。他的目光从未离开过我的眼睛。他做了两次深呼吸。然后满怀歉意地笑了。

“我非常抱歉。”他迟疑道。“如果我说我也只是个人类，你能明白我的意思吗？”

我点了点头，没法对他的笑话微笑。作为一种对危险的响应，肾上腺素在我的血管里奔涌着，但也在慢慢地平息下来。他能从他坐着的地方闻到这一切。他的笑容变得嘲讽起来。

“我是这个世界上最棒的掠食者，不是吗？我的一切都在邀请着你——我的声音，我的容貌，甚至是我的气味。就好像我需要这些一样！”出人意料的是，他站起来跳开了，立刻消失在我的眼前，然后出现在之前的同一棵树下。他在半秒钟内就绕了这片空地一圈。

“就好像你能从我身旁逃脱。”他痛苦地大笑着。

他伸出一只手，然后随着一声震耳欲聋的爆裂声，他毫不费力地从那棵云杉的树干上扯下一根直径达两英尺的树枝。他单手把它举了片刻，然后把它扔出去，速度快得看不见。那根树枝在另一棵巨树上砸得粉碎，砸得那棵巨树一阵震动，带起一阵颤动的风。

然后他又出现在了我面前，站在两英尺外的地方，安静得像一块石头。

“就好像你能把我击退。”他温柔地说道。

我一动不动地坐在那里，被他吓到了，比我曾经体会过的还要更害怕。我从没见过他如此彻底地从那张小心翼翼的，有教养的假面具下解放出来。他从未像现在这样，更不像人类……或者更加美丽。我的脸色发灰，眼睛睁大了，我坐在那里，就像一只被蛇的目光锁住了小鸟。

他可爱的眼睛似乎因为一阵鲁莽的兴奋而闪闪发光。然后，随着时间一分一秒地过去，它们黯淡下来。他的表情慢慢地变成了一个写满了古老的悲伤的面具。

“别害怕。”他喃喃低语道，他天鹅绒般的声音充满了无心的诱惑。“我保证……”他犹豫了一下。“我发誓我不会伤害你的。”他不止是在说服我，他似乎更想让他自己坚信这一点。    

“别害怕。”他又一次低声耳语道，走得更近些，步子缓慢得夸张。他弯曲着身子坐下来，故意让动作显得从容不迫，直到我们脸在同一水平线上，只有一步之遥。

“请原谅我。”他用正式的语气说道。“我能控制住自己了。你碰巧赶上了我失去警戒。但现在我非常规矩。”

他等待着，但我还是没法说话。

“不瞒你说，我今天不渴。”他眨了眨眼。

对此我不得不大笑起来，但我的声音很虚弱，几乎透不过气来。

“你还好吗？”他体贴地问道，慢慢地伸出手，小心地，把他宛如大理石般的手放到我手中。

我看着他光洁冰冷的手，然后看向他的眼睛。它们是那么的温和，充满了悔意。我看回他的手，然后不慌不忙地让我的指尖回到他手上，轻描着他掌心的线条。我抬起头，羞怯地笑了。

他报以一笑，那笑容是那么的耀眼。

“那么我们说到哪里了，在我表现得这么粗鲁以前？”他用上个世纪早期的那种文雅的韵律问道。

“不瞒你说，我不记得了。”

他微笑着，但他的神情有些羞愧。“我想我们正谈到你为什么会害怕，在那些显而易见的原因之外。”

“哦，没错。”

“嗯。”

我低下头，看着他的手，漫无目的地在他光洁的，如彩虹般绚丽的掌心里涂鸦着。时间一分一秒地过去了。

“我总是那么容易感到沮丧。”他叹息着说。我看进他的眼睛里，意外地领悟到，这一刻每一点每一滴对他来说都是新的，正如对我一样。即使他拥有着这么多年来深不可测的经历，这对他来说，也很艰难。我从这个念头中得到了勇气。

“我很害怕……因为，出于，嗯，显而易见的原因，我不能和你在一起。而我害怕的是，我很想和你在一起，这种愿望甚至远比我应有的还要强烈。”我说着，低下头看着他的手。对我来说，这样大声地说出口实在很困难。

“是的。”他缓慢地赞同道。“这是应该害怕的事，确实。想要和我在一起。这实在不应该成为你最大的兴趣。”

我皱起眉。

“我应该很久以前就离开的。”他叹息着。“我应该现在就离开。但我不知道我能不能做到。”

“我不想让你离开。”我悲伤地咬着唇说道，又一次低下了头。

“这正是我应该离开的原因。但别担心。我本来就是一个自私的家伙。我太渴望得到你的陪伴了，甚至没办法去做我应该做的事。”

“我很高兴。”

“别这样！”他抽回了他的手，这一次更温柔些。他的声音比平常要刺耳得多。相对他而言是刺耳，但还是比任何人类的声音都要美丽。我很难跟上他的步调——他突如其来的心情变化总把我抛在一步之外，让我独自彷徨。

“我渴望的可不止是你的陪伴！永远不要忘了这一点。永远不要忘记，我对你的危险性，远胜于我对其他任何人的威胁。”他停了下来，我看过去，只见他向森林里凝望着，却对一切视而不见。

我思索了片刻。

“我不认为我确切地明白了你的意思——最后的那个部分。”我说道。

他回过头来，看着我，笑了。他的心情又变了。

“我要怎么解释呢？”他若有所思地说着。“不能再吓到你了……呃嗯。”不假思索地，他把手放回了我手里，我用双手紧紧地握住他的手。他看着我们的手。

“这种感觉愉快得惊人，这种温暖。”他叹息着说。

片刻之后，他整理好了自己的思路。

“你知道每个人喜欢不同的味道是怎么一回事？”他开始了。“有些人喜欢巧克力口味的冰淇淋，另一些人则更喜欢草莓？”

我点点头。

“很抱歉要用食物来分析——我想不出别的方法来解释。”

我微笑着。他报以悲惨的一笑。

“你看，每个人闻起来都不一样，有着不同的本质。如果你把一个酒鬼锁在一间放满坏掉的啤酒的屋子里，他会很想喝酒。但他能忍住，如果他愿意的话，如果他是一个改过自新的前酒鬼。现在，假设你在房间里放上一杯百年白兰地，最宝贵的，最好的科涅克白兰地——让整个屋子里都弥漫着它温暖的芳香——你想他接下来会怎么做呢？”  
我们沉默地坐着，看着彼此的眼睛——努力想要看懂对方的想法。

他首先打破了沉默。

“也许这个比喻不太恰当。也许克制自己不去喝白兰地太容易了。大概，我应该用瘾君子来代替酒鬼举例的。”

“那么你是在说，我是你个人品牌的海_落_因？”我揶揄着，试图让气氛轻松些。

他很快地笑了，似乎很感激我的努力。“是的，你确实是我个人品牌的海_落_因。”

“这种情况经常发生吗？”我问道。

他抬起头，越过树梢望着远处，思索着他的回答。

“我和我的兄弟们谈过这件事。”他依然看着远方。“对贾斯帕来说，你们中的每一个人都是一样的。他是最晚才加入我们的家族的。对他而言，单单是克制渴望就已经让他挣扎不已了。他还没有时间去体会不同的气味，不同的味道。”他很快地看向我，他的神情充满了歉意。

“对不起。”他说道。

“我不介意。请不用担心冒犯我，或者吓到我，或者诸如此类的事。那是你思考的方式。我能理解，或者至少我会试着去理解。随你用什么方式，只要能解释就行。”
他深吸了一口气，然后再次凝望着天空。

“所以贾斯帕不能肯定他是否遇到过这样的人”——他迟疑着，寻找着合适的词——“这样有吸引力，正如你之于我。这让我觉得这是不可能的。艾美特戒酒的时间更长一些，可以这么说，而他能理解我所说的意思。他说有两次，对他来说，一旦尝试，第二次的诱或就比上一次更为强烈。”

“那你呢？”

“从未试过。”

这话在温暖的微风中停留了片刻。

“艾美特做了什么？”我问道，打破了沉默。

我问错问题了。他的脸阴沉下来，他的手在我的手里紧紧地握成了拳头。他看向别处。我等待着，但他不打算回答。

“我猜，我已经知道了。”我最终说道。

他抬起眼，他的神情里充满了渴望和恳求。

“即使是我们中最坚强的人也会旧瘾复发，不是吗？”

“你在询问什么？我的许可吗？”我的声音比我本来计划的还要尖锐。我试图让自己的语气更友好些——我能猜得出来，他的诚实一定折磨着他。“我是指，已经没有希望了，对吧？”我居然能如此冷静地谈论自己的死亡！

“不，不！”他立刻懊悔不已。“当然有希望！，我是说，我当然不会……”他把那个没说完的句子晾在了一旁。他的目光灼烧着我的眼睛。“这对我们来说不一样。艾美特……那两个只是他偶然遇到的陌生人。那已经是很久以前的事了，那时他还不够……不能够像现在这样那么有经验，那么谨慎。”

他陷入了沉默，专注地看着我。我思考着，然后得出了结论。

“所以如果我们的初见是在……哦，在一条黑暗的小路上，或者别的什么地方……”我的声音渐渐低了下来。

“我竭尽全力克制自己，才没有在那间坐满了孩子的教室正中间跳起来——”他突兀地停下来，看向别处。“当你从我身旁走过时，我差点就要毁掉了卡莱尔为我们苦心筑造的一切，就在那一刻，就在那里。要不是我最终克制住了自己的渴望，好吧，要不是那么多年来我都克制着，我肯定无法阻止自己。”他停下来，阴沉着脸注视着那些树。

他冷酷地看了我一眼，我们都在回想着。“你那时一定认为我疯了。”

“我只是不能理解为什么。你这么快就开始讨厌我了……”

“那时对我来说，你就像是某种恶魔，是直接从我自己的炼狱里被召唤出来，来毁掉我的。你的肌肤上散发着的芬芳……我本以为它会让我在第一天就发狂了。那一个小时里，我想到了一百种不同的方式把你从这个房间里引诱出去，让你落单。但我把所有这些想法都击退了，我想到了我的家族，想到我能为他们做什么。我不得不冲出去，在我说出任何让你跟着的话以前离开……”

他抬起头，注视着我脸上难以置信的神情，我正试图消化他痛苦的回忆。他金色的眼睛在睫毛下焦灼着，催眠而致命。

“那时你一定会跟着来的。”他保证道。

我努力用平静的语气说：“而且毫无疑虑。”  

他皱起眉，看着我的手，让我从他眼中的魔力里解脱出来。“然后，当我试图重新安排我的课表，徒劳地想要避开你的时候，你就在那里——在那间密闭的，温暖的小屋子里，你的香气简直让我发狂。我几乎差点就要对你得手了。那里只有另一个脆弱的人类——太容易处理了。”

我在温暖的阳光里颤抖着，从他的眼里再次寻回了自己的回忆，在这时我才意识到那时候的危机。可怜的柯普夫人。我再次战栗着，因为想到我只差一点点就会无意地导致了她的死亡。  

“但我抵抗住了。我不知道自己是怎么做到的。我强迫自己不要停下来等你，不要跟着你离开学校。在外头，当我再也闻不到你的时候，我可以更容易地思考，更容易地作出正确的选择。快到家的时候，我让别的人下了车——我太羞愧了，不敢告诉他们我的意志是那么的薄弱。他们只知道出了非常严重的状况——然后我直奔医院找卡莱尔，告诉他我要离开。”

我震惊地看着他

“我和他交换了车子——他的车子有满满一箱油，而我不想停下来。我不敢回家，不敢面对艾思梅。如果我去见她，她一定不会让我走的。她会竭力说服我这毫无必要……”

“第二天早上我到了阿拉斯加。”他听起来很羞愧，就好像在承认自己是多么的怯懦一样。“我在那里待了两天，和一些老相识在一起……但我很想家。我讨厌想到，我让艾思梅伤心了，还有余下的几个，我不是亲人胜似亲人的家人。在高山上纯净的空气里，很难想象你的味道是那么的不可抗拒。我说服自己，逃跑是一种示弱的行为。在此之前我能很好地抵抗诱或，虽然它们都没有这样强烈，甚至没有这样接近，但我很坚强。而你，一个不起眼的小女孩”——他忽然咧嘴一笑——“能把我从我想去的地方赶走？所以我回来了……”他看向空中。

我说不出话来。

“我做足了准备，去狩猎，喝得甚至比必要的还要多，然后再去见你。我确信我足够坚强，可以像对待任何别的人类一样对待你。我对此很是自负。

毫无疑问，情况很复杂，因为我没办法简单地通过读你的想法来知道你对我的反应。我很不习惯，却又不得不采取如此迂回的措施，从杰西卡的脑子里听你说的话……她脑子里的并非原话，将就着去听实在是件恼人的事。而且我不知道你说的是否真的是字面上的意思。这一切都格外让人气愤。”想起这些，他不由得皱起了眉头。

“我想让你忘记我第一天时的举动，如果可能的话，所以我试着和你说话，像我和任何人所做的那样。我确实是渴望心切，想要破译你的一些念头。但你太有趣了，我发现自己被你的表情迷住了……而且你时不时会用你的手或者你的头发扰动空气，那股香味又一次刺痛了我……

当然，然后你差点就要在我眼前被撞死。事后我想出了一个极好的借口，解释那时候我为什么会那样做——因为如果我不去救你的话，你的血就会在我面前喷溅出来，我不认为我能阻止自己暴露我们的身份。但我只是事后才想到这个借口的。那一刻，我所能想到的只是，‘不该是她’。”

他闭上眼睛，沉浸在自己痛苦的自白中。我聆听着，渴望得有些不合常理。常识告诉我，我应该感到恐惧。但相反地，我很宽慰，因为我最终知晓了一切。而且，我对他所遭受的折磨充满了怜悯，即使是在现在，即使这时他正坦白着他渴望夺走我的生命。

我终于可以说话了，虽然我的声音是那么的微弱。“在医院里？”

他的眼睛飞快地转向我的眼睛。“我心惊胆寒。我不敢相信自己居然把我们放到了如此危险的境地，把自己置于你的股掌之下——在所有人中，偏偏选中了你。就好像我需要另一个动机来杀了你一样。”当这话说出口的时候，我们都畏缩了一下。“但这却起了反作用。”他紧接着继续说道。“我跟罗莎莉，艾美特还有贾斯帕大吵一架，因为他们提议现在正是时候……那是我们争辩得最激烈的一次。但卡莱尔站在我这边，还有爱丽丝。”当他说到她的名字时，他做了个鬼脸。我想不出为什么。“艾思梅告诉我，我可以做任何我想做的事，只要我肯留下来。”他宠溺地摇了摇头。    

“第二天，我一直在偷听所有和你说话的人的想法。我很震惊，你居然遵守了诺言。我根本无法理解你。但我知道我不能和你再有任何牵连了。我竭尽全力，尽可能地远离你。可每一天你的肌肤上散发出来的香气，你的呼吸，你的头发……这一切都像第一天那样深深地撼动着我。”

他又一次对上了我的眼睛，他的眼神温柔得惊人。

“而在经历了这一切之后，”他继续说道。“我确实有所改进。虽然最初我暴露了我们所有人的真面目，虽然此时，此地——没有目击者，也没有什么能阻止我——我还是有可能伤害你。”

我的人类本能让我不得不问道：“为什么？”

“伊莎贝拉。”他仔细地拼读出我的全名，然后开玩笑地用他空着的手弄乱了我的头发。他不经意的触碰让一阵震撼传遍了我的全身。“贝拉，如果我伤害了你，我绝对不会让自己活下去。你不知道这将会怎样地折磨着我。”他垂下头，再次羞愧起来。“只要想到你将变得僵硬，苍白，冰冷……再也看不到你羞怯的红晕，再也看不到当你看穿我的伪装时眼里一闪而过的直觉……这一切简直让人无法忍受。”他抬起那双明亮的，充满歉意的眼睛，看着我的眼眸。“现在你是这个世界上对我来说最重要的事情了。至少对我来说是最重要的。”

我的脑海里一片混乱，我们的对话居然急转直下走到了这个方向上。刚才我们还在讨论着那个愉快的关于我迫在眉睫的死亡的话题，现在我们竟然在相互告白了。他等待着，尽管我低着头开始研究我们之间相握的手，我知道他金色的眼睛正注视着我。“你已经知道我的感觉了，当然，”我最终说道。“我就在这里……这，大致翻译过来的话，是指我宁愿死，也不愿离开你。”我皱起眉。“我是个傻瓜。”

“你确实是个傻瓜。”他赞同地大笑起来。我们的目光交汇在一起，然后我也大笑起来。我们一起为这种白痴的，全无可能的行径大笑了许久。

“那么，狮子爱上了绵羊……”他喃喃低语道。我看向别处，掩饰着自己的眼神，因为我被这句话震撼了。

“多么愚蠢的绵羊。”我叹息着说。

“多么病态的，嗜好受虐的狮子。”他凝望着那片幽暗的森林，许久许久，我想知道是什么样的想法让他沉浸其中。

“为什么……？”我开了口，但又停住了，不知道怎么说下去。

他看着我，笑了，阳光闪耀在他的脸上，他的齿间。

“怎么了？”

“告诉我，你刚才为什么要从我身边逃开。”

他的笑容消失了。“你知道为什么。”

“不，我是说，更确切些，我做错了什么？我得提高警惕，你知道，所以我最好开始了解我不应该做什么。这个，比方说”——我轻抚着他的手背——“似乎没问题。”

他又笑了起来：“你什么也没做错，贝拉。这是我的错。”

“可我想要帮上忙，如果我可以的话，不让情况变得对你来说更难熬。”

“嗯……”他沉思了片刻。“这只取决于你离我多近。大多数人类都会本能地躲开我们，被我们的异己性排斥着……我不希望你靠得太近。还有你的喉咙的味道。”他突然停下来，想看看自己是否吓到我了。

“好吧，那么，”我轻率地说道，试图缓和忽然紧绷起来的气氛。我收起下巴。“不让喉咙露出来。”

这起作用了。他大笑起来：“不，真的，这比别的任何事都要更惊人。”

他抬起那只闲着的手，温柔地放到我的脖子上。我僵直地坐在那里，他的触碰带来的寒意是一种本能的警告——警告我应该感到恐惧。但我却一点儿也不害怕。但是，却有另一种感觉……

“你看，”他说着，“好极了。”

我的血液在奔涌着，我真希望我能让它平静下来，我能感觉到，这会让每件事都更糟——我的脉搏在血管里砰砰作响。当然他能听见这一切。

“你脸颊上的红晕太可爱了。”他喃喃低语道。他温柔地抽出了另一只手，我的手无力地落在膝盖上。轻柔地，他拂过我的脸颊，然后用他宛如大理石般的双手捧起我的脸。

“千万别动。”他耳语着，好像我还不够僵硬一样。

他的目光从未离开过我的眼睛，慢慢地，他向我侧过来。然后出乎我意料的，却非常温柔地，他把冰冷的脸颊贴上了我的颈窝。我根本没法动弹，即使我确实想要这样做。我聆听着他平稳的呼吸声，看着阳光和微风在他红铜色的头发上轻舞着，这大概是他身上最像人类的部分。  

他的双手从容而缓慢地滑落下来，慢慢滑过我的脖子。我颤栗着，我能听到他屏住了呼吸。但他的手没有停下来，他们轻柔地移向我的肩膀，然后停住了。

他的脸慢慢地向下移，他的鼻子轻轻擦过了我的锁骨。他最终让自己一侧的脸颊温柔地压在我的胸口。

聆听着我的心跳。

“啊。”他叹息着。

我不知道我们这样一动不动地坐了多久。也许有好几个小时。最终，我脉搏的悸动平息下来，但他没有挪动，也没有说话，只是抓着我。我知道这样随时都有可能擦熗走火，我的生命会就此了结——快得我甚至不会注意到。而我也没法让自己害怕。我无法思考任何事情，只知道他在触碰着我。

然后他放开了我，有点太快了。

他的眼睛非常平和。

“这不会再那么难了。”他满意地说道。

“这曾经对你来说很难吗？”

“情况还没有我想象中的那么坏。你呢？”

“不，这不坏……对我来说。”

我的声音有些变调，他不禁笑了起来：“你知道我指的是什么。”

我笑了。

“这里。”他拿起我的手，放到他的脸颊上。“你感觉到这里有多么温暖吗？”

和他平常冰冷的肌肤相比，确实可以称得上是温暖。但我几乎没有注意到，因为我正在触碰着他的脸，这是从我第一天见到他起就一直梦寐以求的事。

“别动。”我耳语道。

没人能像爱德华这样静止不动。他闭上眼睛，像石头一样岿然不动，变成了我手中的一尊雕像。

我的动作甚至比他还要缓慢，小心翼翼地不做半个多余的动作。我爱抚着他的脸颊，优雅地抚过他的眼睑，他眼窝下淡紫色的阴影。我描摹着他完美的鼻子的形状，然后，那么仔细地，描着他完美无瑕的嘴唇。他的嘴唇在我的手下半张着，我能感觉到他冰冷的呼吸拂过我的指尖。我想要靠过去，轻嗅他身上的香味。所以我放下手，侧过身子，等不及把他推开些。

他睁开了眼睛，眼里写满了饥渴。这不仅仅让我感到了某种程度的害怕，也让我的胃部的肌肉紧绷起来，还让我的脉搏再次在血管里捶打起来。

“我希望，”他耳语道，“我真希望你可以感受到那种……复杂……混乱……我所感受到的一切。那样你就能理解了。”

他把手伸向我的头发，然后小心地把它们从我脸上拂开。

“告诉我。”我喘息着说道。

“我不认为我能。我告诉过你，一方面，是那种饥饿——那种口渴——像我这样可悲的生物，会对你产生的感觉。而且我想你能理解这一点，在某种程度上。尽管”——他半笑不笑地说——“既然你从没对任何违法药物上瘾过，你大概也就不能完全将心比心，感同身受了。”

“但是……”他的手指轻触着我的唇，让我再次颤栗起来。“还有另一种渴望。一种我无法理解的渴望，这对我来说是全然陌生的。”

“我可能比你认为的更能理解这一点。”

“我不太习惯这种人类的感觉。这总是像这样吗？”

“我？”我顿了顿。“不，从来没有，在此以前从没有过。”

他把我的双手紧握在他的手中。我的手在他钢铁般强壮的力量里显得那么脆弱。

“我不知道该怎样靠近你。”他坦白道。“我不知道我能否这样做。”

我极慢地向前靠过去，用自己的眼睛警告着他别动。我把脸颊紧贴在他岩石般的胸膛上。我能听见他的呼吸，但除此以外别无他物。

“这就够了。”我叹息着，闭上了眼睛。

他做了一个非常人类的姿势，他用胳膊环住我，把脸贴在我的头发上。、

“你比你自己夸奖过的还要擅长这些事。”我指出来。

“我拥有人类的直觉——它们也许被埋藏得很深，但还是有的。”

我们像那样坐着，不知坐了多久。我怀疑他是否不情愿改变姿势，就像我一样。但我能看到光线黯淡下来了，树林的阴影开始延伸到我们身下。我叹了口气。

“你得走了。”

“我以为你不能读我的心。”

“我越来越擅长读你的表情了。”我能听到他声音里的笑意。

他扶起我的肩膀，我看着他的眼睛。

“我能向你展示某件事吗？”他问道，某种突如其来的兴奋在他眼里一闪而过。

“向我展示什么？”

“我会向你展示我是怎样在森林里旅行的。”他看见了我的表情。“别担心。你会很安全的，而且我们会更快地到达你的卡车。”他的嘴唇弯了起来，那个弯弯的笑容是如此的美丽，我的心跳几乎要停拍了。

“你要变成一只蝙蝠吗？”我警惕地问道。

他大笑起来，甚至比我听过的还有响亮。“好像我之前还没听过这个理论。”

“没错，我能肯定你始终知道这一点。”

“来吧，胆小鬼，爬到我的背上来。”

我等着看他是否在开玩笑，但是，显然，他就是这个意思。他看懂了我的表情，然后笑了起来，伸手抓住我。我的心脏立刻有了反应：尽管他听不到我的想法，我的脉搏总是会出卖我。他随即把我扔到了背上，我几乎没怎么费劲。另外，当我爬上去时，我用胳膊和腿紧紧地钳住了他，如果他是一个普通的人类的话，他一定会窒息的。这像是在紧紧地抱住一块石头。

“我可是比你平时背的包要沉些。”我警告道。

“哈！”他哼了一声。我几乎能听见他的眼睛在转动。我之前从没见过他这样兴高采烈。

他忽然抓住我的手，把我吓了一跳。他把我的手按在他脸上，然后深吸了一口气。

“越来越容易了。”他喃喃自语道。  

然后他开始跑起来。

如果之前我真的有因为他的存在而害怕着死亡，那跟我现在的感觉比起来根本就不算什么。

他飞奔着穿过森林里黑暗浓密的灌木丛，就像一颗炮弹，就像一个幽灵。他的脚踏在土地上，既无声音，也无痕迹。他的呼吸从未改变，从没显示出任何用力的迹象。但那些树在用一种致命的速度飞快地向后退去，通常离我们只有几英寸远。

我太害怕了，甚至不敢闭上眼睛，尽管阴凉的森林里的空气飞掠过我的脸，带来一阵灼烧的疼痛。我感觉就像是自己愚蠢地把头伸出了一架正在飞行的飞机的窗口。而且，这是我人生中第一次，因为运动症而感到一阵头晕目眩的虚弱。

然后，一切都结束了。早上我们花了数个小时徒步走到爱德华的草地，而现在，在大约几分钟之内，我们回到了卡车旁。

“很爽，不是吗？”他的声音很爽很兴奋。

他一动不动地站着，等着我自己爬下来。我试过了，但我的肌肉没有反应。我的胳膊和腿依然紧紧地扣在他身上，我的头很不舒服地眩晕着。

“贝拉？”他问道，有些不安起来。

“我想我需要躺下来。”我喘息着说。

“哦，对不起。”他等着我，但我还是动不了。

“我想我需要帮助。”我坦白道。

他安静地笑了起来，温柔地解开了我紧扣在他脖子上的胳膊。根本没法抵抗他的双手如钢铁般的力量。然后他把我转过来和他面对面，将我环抱在怀里，好像我是个小孩子一样。他搂着我，片刻之后，小心地把我放到那片柔韧的蕨类植物上。

“你感觉怎么样？”他问道。

在我的脑子还在如此疯狂地眩晕着的时候，我不能肯定自己感觉怎么样。“头晕目眩，我想。”

“把你的头放在膝盖中间。”

我试着做到这一点，而这确实有些作用。我慢慢地吸气，呼气，让我的头保持不动。我的耳朵里回荡着空洞的耳鸣声。

“我猜这不是个好主意。”他沉思着，说道。

我试图显得积极些，但我的声音还是很虚弱。“不，这非常有趣。”

“哈！你白得像个幽灵——不，你白得像我一样！”

“我想我应该先闭上眼睛的。”

“下次记着这一点。”

“下次！”我呻吟道。

他大笑起来，他的心情依然充满了喜悦。

“爱炫耀的家伙。”我喃喃自语道。

“睁开眼睛，贝拉。”他安静地说道。

他就在那里，他的脸离我的脸是那么的近。他的俊美刺痛了我的心——太过分了，远远超出了我能习惯的范围。

“当我在奔跑的时候，我在想……”他停了下来。

“想着别撞到树上，我希望是这样。”

“笨蛋贝拉，”他轻笑着。“奔跑是我的第二天性，这是我永远也不需要去思考的事情。”

“爱炫耀的家伙。”我再次喃喃低语道。

他笑了。

“不，”他继续说道。“我在想着一件我想要尝试的事情。”他又一次用双手捧住了我的脸。

我没办法呼吸。

他踌躇着——但不是用正常的方式，人类的方式，迟疑着。

不是一个男人在吻一个女人以前的那种方式，那种想要估计她的反应，想要看看他会被怎样地接纳的踌躇。也许他犹豫着，是想要延长这一刻，充满期待的完美的一刻，有时候比接吻本身更棒。

爱德华迟疑着，是在测试他自己，看看这是否安全，确认自己仍被自己的需要所控制着。

然后，他冰冷的，大理石般的唇非常温柔地压在了我的唇上。  
我们两个都没有预料到的，是我的反应。

血液在我的肌肤下沸腾着，灼烧着我的唇。我的呼吸变成了失控的喘息。我的手指纠缠着他的发，把他按向我。我的唇微微张开，吸进了他令人陶醉的香气。

我立刻感觉到他在我的唇下变成了毫无反应的石头。他的手温柔地，却用着不可抵抗的力量，把我的脸退开了。我睁开眼睛，看见他充满警惕的神情。

“噢。”我喘息着说道。

“那是一种保守的描述。”

他的眼睛睁大着，他的下巴绷紧着，他在痛苦地克制着自己，但他还是没有背离他那完美清晰的发音。他碰着我的脸，离他的脸只有几英寸远。他的俊美让我有些目眩。

“我应该……？”我试图挣脱出来，给他一点空间。

他的双手拒绝放开我，哪怕只是挪动一英寸。

“不，这还能忍受。稍等片刻，拜托。”他的声音很礼貌，充满了克制。

我凝视着他的眼睛，看着他眼里的兴奋渐渐褪去，眼神温柔起来。

然后，他咧着嘴，露出了一个顽皮得惊人的笑容。

“好啦。”他说道，显然对自己很是高兴。

“还受得住吗？”我问道。

他大声笑了起来。“我比我想象的还要坚强。很高兴能知道这一点。”

“我希望我也能这样说。我很抱歉。”

“毕竟，你只是个人类。”

“非常感谢。”我说着，我的声音有些苦涩。

他用他那种柔软的，快得几乎看不见的动作站起来。他向我伸出手，一个出人意料的举动。我太习惯于我们小心翼翼地保持零接触的规定了。我抓住他冰冷的手，所需要的协助比我认为的还要多。我的平衡感还没有回来。

“你还在因为奔跑而眩晕吗？或者是我的接吻技术导致的？”此刻他大笑着，是多么的让人头晕目眩，多么像人类，他天使般的面容是那么的无忧无虑。和我所熟知的爱德华相比，他是另一个，迥然不同的爱德华。而我感到自己对他更着迷了。如果让我现在和他分离的话，一定会带来实质上的痛苦的。

“我不能肯定，我还是有点糊涂。”我设法作出了回应。“不过，我想两者兼而有之。”

“也许你应该让我来开车。”

“你疯了吗？”我断言道。

“我能开得比你开得最好的那天还要好。”他揶揄道。“你的反应能力可远不及我。”

“我相信这是事实，但我不认为我的神经，或者我的卡车，能够承受得住。”

“给我一点信任，求你了，贝拉。”

我把手伸进口袋里，紧紧地攒着钥匙。我撅起嘴，然后慎重地摇了摇头，紧张地露齿微笑。

“不。想都别想。”

他难以置信地扬起眉毛。

我开始绕过他，径直向驾驶座走去。他原本也许会让我过去的，如果我没有轻微地晃荡了一下的话。然后我又晃了一下，他不会让我过去了。他的胳膊环住了我的腰，变成了一个无法逃脱的圈套。

“贝拉，我已经花费了大量的个人努力，只是为了让你活着。我不打算在你甚至无法沿直线走路的时候，让你坐到一辆卡车的方向盘后面。还有，是朋友就不要让她酒后驾车。”他轻笑着，引用那句公益广告说道。我能闻到从他的胸膛散发出来的那股无法抵抗的甜腻的芳香。

“酒后？”我伉仪道。

“你陶醉在我不同寻常的表现中。”他又一次露出了那个饶有趣味的坏笑。

“我不能反驳这一点。”我叹息说。没有办法绕过这一点。我在任何事情上都无法拒绝他。我高举起钥匙，松开手让它落下来，看着他的手闪电般地掠过，无声地抓住它。“当心点——我的车可是上了年纪的。”

“非常明智。”他满意地说道。

“你就不受任何影响吗？”我苦恼地问道。“对我的存在？”

又一次，他易变的表情又改变了，他的神情变得温和起来。起初他并没有回答。他只是把脸俯向我的脸，用他的唇慢慢地拂过我的下颌，从耳后一路吻到下巴，往返流连。我颤抖起来。

“无论如何，”他最终喃喃低语道，“我能更好地应对。”  
13. CONFESSIONS




Edward in the sunlight was shocking. I couldn't get used to it, though
I'd been staring at him all afternoon. His skin, white despite the faint
flush from yesterday's hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands
of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface. He lay perfectly still in
the grass, his shirt open over his sculpted, incandescent chest, his
scintillating arms bare. His glistening, pale lavender lids were shut,
though of course he didn't sleep. A perfect statue, carved in some
unknown stone, smooth like marble, glittering like crystal.

Now and then, his lips would move, so fast it looked like they were
trembling. But, when I asked, he told me he was singing to himself; it
was too low for me to hear.

I enjoyed the sun, too, though the air wasn't quite dry enough for my
taste. I would have liked to lie back, as he did, and let the sun warm my
face. But I stayed curled up, my chin resting on my knees, unwilling to
take my eyes off him. The wind was gentle; it tangled my hair and ruffled
the grass that swayed around his motionless form.

The meadow, so spectacular to me at first, paled next to his magnificence.

Hesitantly, always afraid, even now, that he would disappear like a
mirage, too beautiful to be real… hesitantly, I reached out one finger
and stroked the back of his shimmering hand, where it lay within my
reach. I marveled again at the perfect texture, satin smooth, cool as
stone. When I looked up again, his eyes were open, watching me.
Butterscotch today, lighter, warmer after hunting. His quick smile turned
up the corners of his flawless lips.

"I don't scare you?" he asked playfully, but I could hear the real
curiosity in his soft voice.

"No more than usual."

He smiled wider; his teeth flashed in the sun.

I inched closer, stretched out my whole hand now to trace the contours of
his forearm with my fingertips. I saw that my fingers trembled, and knew
it wouldn't escape his notice.

"Do you mind?" I asked, for he had closed his eyes again.

"No," he said without opening his eyes. "You can't imagine how that
feels." He sighed.

I lightly trailed my hand over the perfect muscles of his arm, followed
the faint pattern of bluish veins inside the crease at his elbow. With my
other hand, I reached to turn his hand over. Realizing what I wished, he
flipped his palm up in one of those blindingly fast, disconcerting
movements of his. It startled me; my fingers froze on his arm for a brief
second.

"Sorry," he murmured. I looked up in time to see his golden eyes close
again. "It's too easy to be myself with you."

I lifted his hand, turning it this way and that as I watched the sun
glitter on his palm. I held it closer to my face, trying to see the
hidden facets in his skin.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he whispered. I looked to see his eyes
watching me, suddenly intent. "It's still so strange for me, not knowing."

"You know, the rest of us feel that way all the time."

"It's a hard life." Did I imagine the hint of regret in his tone? "But
you didn't tell me."

"I was wishing I could know what you were thinking…" I hesitated.

"And?"

"I was wishing that I could believe that you were real. And I was wishing
that I wasn't afraid."

"I don't want you to be afraid." His voice was just a soft murmur. I
heard what he couldn't truthfully say, that I didn't need to be afraid,
that there was nothing to fear.

"Well, that's not exactly the fear I meant, though that's certainly
something to think about."

So quickly that I missed his movement, he was half sitting, propped up on
his right arm, his left palm still in my hands. His angel's face was only
a few inches from mine. I might have — should have — flinched away from
his unexpected closeness, but I was unable to move. His golden eyes
mesmerized me.

"What are you afraid of, then?" he whispered intently.

But I couldn't answer. As I had just that once before, I smelled his cool
breath in my face. Sweet, delicious, the scent made my mouth water. It
was unlike anything else. Instinctively, unthinkingly, I leaned closer,

inhaling.

And he was gone, his hand ripped from mine. In the time it took my eyes
to focus, he was twenty feet away, standing at the edge of the small
meadow, in the deep shade of a huge fir tree. He stared at me, his eyes
dark in the shadows, his expression unreadable.

I could feel the hurt and shock on my face. My empty hands stung.

"I'm… sorry… Edward," I whispered. I knew he could hear.

"Give me a moment," he called, just loud enough for my less sensitive
ears. I sat very still.

After ten incredibly long seconds, he walked back, slowly for him. He
stopped, still several feet away, and sank gracefully to the ground,
crossing his legs. His eyes never left mine. He took two deep breaths,
and then smiled in apology.

"I am so very sorry." He hesitated. "Would you understand what I meant if
I said I was only human?"

I nodded once, not quite able to smile at his joke. Adrenaline pulsed
through my veins as the realization of danger slowly sank in. He could
smell that from where he sat. His smile turned mocking.

"I'm the world's best predator, aren't I? Everything about me invites you
in — my voice, my face, even my smell. As if I need any of that!"
Unexpectedly, he was on his feet, bounding away, instantly out of sight,
only to appear beneath the same tree as before, having circled the meadow
in half a second.

"As if you could outrun me," he laughed bitterly.

He reached up with one hand and, with a deafening crack, effortlessly
ripped a two-foot-thick branch from the trunk of the spruce. He balanced
it in that hand for a moment, and then threw it with blinding speed,
shattering it against another huge tree, which shook and trembled at the
blow.

And he was in front of me again, standing two feet away, still as a stone.

"As if you could fight me off," he said gently.

I sat without moving, more frightened of him than I had ever been. I'd
never seen him so completely freed of that carefully cultivated facade.
He'd never been less human… or more beautiful. Face ashen, eyes wide, I
sat like a bird locked in the eyes of a snake.

His lovely eyes seem to glow with rash excitement. Then, as the seconds
passed, they dimmed. His expression slowly folded into a mask of ancient
sadness.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured, his velvet voice unintentionally
seductive. "I promise…" He hesitated. "I swear not to hurt you." He
seemed more concerned with convincing himself than me.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered again as he stepped closer, with
exaggerated slowness. He sat sinuously, with deliberately unhurried
movements, till our faces were on the same level, just a foot apart.

"Please forgive me," he said formally. "I can control myself. You caught
me off guard. But I'm on my best behavior now."

He waited, but I still couldn't speak.

"I'm not thirsty today, honestly." He winked.

At that I had to laugh, though the sound was shaky and breathless.

"Are you all right?" he asked tenderly, reaching out slowly, carefully,
to place his marble hand back in mine.

I looked at his smooth, cold hand, and then at his eyes. They were soft,
repentant. I looked back at his hand, and then deliberately returned to
tracing the lines in his hand with my fingertip. I looked up and smiled
timidly.

His answering smile was dazzling.

"So where were we, before I behaved so rudely?" he asked in the gentle
cadences of an earlier century.

"I honestly can't remember."

He smiled, but his face was ashamed. "I think we were talking about why
you were afraid, besides the obvious reason."

"Oh, right."

"Well?"

I looked down at his hand and doodled aimlessly across his smooth,
iridescent palm. The seconds ticked by.

"How easily frustrated I am," he sighed. I looked into his eyes, abruptly
grasping that this was every bit as new to him as it was to me. As many
years of unfathomable experience as he had, this was hard for him, too. I
took courage from that thought.

"I was afraid… because, for, well, obvious reasons, I can't stay with
you. And I'm afraid that I'd like to stay with you, much more than I
should." I looked down at his hands as I spoke. It was difficult for me
to say this aloud.

"Yes," he agreed slowly. "That is something to be afraid of, indeed.
Wanting to be with me. That's really not in your best interest."

I frowned.

"I should have left long ago," he sighed. "I should leave now. But I
don't know if I can."

"I don't want you to leave," I mumbled pathetically, staring down again.

"Which is exactly why I should. But don't worry. I'm essentially a
selfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should."

"I'm glad."

"Don't be!" He withdrew his hand, more gently this time; his voice was
harsher than usual. Harsh for him, still more beautiful than any human
voice. It was hard to keep up — his sudden mood changes left me always a
step behind, dazed.

"It's not only your company I crave! Never forget that. Never forget I am
more dangerous to you than I am to anyone else." He stopped, and I looked
to see him gazing unseeingly into the forest.

I thought for a moment.

"I don't think I understand exactly what you mean — by that last part
anyway," I said.

He looked back at me and smiled, his mood shifting yet again.

"How do I explain?" he mused. "And without frightening you again… hmmmm."
Without seeming to think about it, he placed his hand back in mine; I
held it tightly in both of mine. He looked at our hands.

"That's amazingly pleasant, the warmth." He sighed.

A moment passed as he assembled his thoughts.

"You know how everyone enjoys different flavors?" he began. "Some people
love chocolate ice cream, others prefer strawberry?"

I nodded.

"Sorry about the food analogy — I couldn't think of another way to
explain."

I smiled. He smiled ruefully back.

"You see, every person smells different, has a different essence. If you
locked an alcoholic in a room full of stale beer, he'd gladly drink it.
But he could resist, if he wished to, if he were a recovering alcoholic.
Now let's say you placed in that room a glass of hundred-year-old brandy,
the rarest, finest cognac — and filled the room with its warm aroma — how
do you think he would fare then?"

We sat silently, looking into each other's eyes — trying to read each
other's thoughts.

He broke the silence first.

"Maybe that's not the right comparison. Maybe it would be too easy to
turn down the brandy. Perhaps I should have made our alcoholic a heroin
addict instead."

"So what you're saying is, I'm your brand of heroin?" I teased, trying to
lighten the mood.

He smiled swiftly, seeming to appreciate my effort. "Yes, you are exactly
my brand of heroin."

"Does that happen often?" I asked.

He looked across the treetops, thinking through his response.

"I spoke to my brothers about it." He still stared into the distance. "To
Jasper, every one of you is much the same. He's the most recent to join
our family. It's a struggle for him to abstain at all. He hasn't had time
to grow sensitive to the differences in smell, in flavor." He glanced
swiftly at me, his expression apologetic.

"Sorry," he said.

"I don't mind. Please don't worry about offending me, or frightening me,
or whichever. That's the way you think. I can understand, or I can try to
at least. Just explain however you can."

He took a deep breath and gazed at the sky again.

"So Jasper wasn't sure if he'd ever come across someone who was as" — he
hesitated, looking for the right word — "appealing as you are to me.
Which makes me think not. Emmett has been on the wagon longer, so to
speak, and he understood what I meant. He says twice, for him, once
stronger than the other."

"And for you?"

"Never."

The word hung there for a moment in the warm breeze.

"What did Emmett do?" I asked to break the silence.

It was the wrong question to ask. His face grew dark, his hand clenched
into a fist inside mine. He looked away. I waited, but he wasn't going to
answer.

"I guess I know," I finally said.

He lifted his eyes; his expression was wistful, pleading.

"Even the strongest of us fall off the wagon, don't we?"

"What are you asking? My permission?" My voice was sharper than I'd
intended. I tried to make my tone kinder — I could guess what his honesty
must cost him. "I mean, is there no hope, then?" How calmly I could
discuss my own death!

"No, no!" He was instantly contrite. "Of course there's hope! I mean, of
course I won't…" He left the sentence hanging. His eyes burned into mine.
"It's different for us. Emmett… these were strangers he happened across.
It was a long time ago, and he wasn't as… practiced, as careful, as he is
now."

He fell silent and watched me intently as I thought it through.

"So if we'd met… oh, in a dark alley or something…" I trailed off.

"It took everything I had not to jump up in the middle of that class full
of children and —" He stopped abruptly, looking away. "When you walked
past me, I could have ruined everything Carlisle has built for us, right
then and there. If I hadn't been denying my thirst for the last, well,
too many years, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself." He paused,
scowling at the trees.

He glanced at me grimly, both of us remembering. "You must have thought I
was possessed."

"I couldn't understand why. How you could hate me so quickly…"

"To me, it was like you were some kind of demon, summoned straight from
my own personal hell to ruin me. The fragrance coming off your skin… I
thought it would make me deranged that first day. In that one hour, I
thought of a hundred different ways to lure you from the room with me, to
get you alone. And I fought them each back, thinking of my family, what I
could do to them. I had to run out, to get away before I could speak the
words that would make you follow…"

He looked up then at my staggered expression as I tried to absorb his
bitter memories. His golden eyes scorched from under his lashes, hypnotic
and deadly.

"You would have come," he promised.

I tried to speak calmly. "Without a doubt."

He frowned down at my hands, releasing me from the force of his stare.
"And then, as I tried to rearrange my schedule in a pointless attempt to
avoid you, you were there — in that close, warm little room, the scent
was maddening. I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other
frail human there — so easily dealt with."

I shivered in the warm sun, seeing my memories anew through his eyes,
only now grasping the danger. Poor Ms. Cope; I shivered again at how
close I'd come to being inadvertently responsible for her death.

"But I resisted. I don't know how. I forced myself not to wait for you,
not to follow you from the school. It was easier outside, when I couldn't
smell you anymore, to think clearly, to make the right decision. I left
the others near home — I was too ashamed to tell them how weak I was,
they only knew something was very wrong — and then I went straight to
Carlisle, at the hospital, to tell him I was leaving."

I stared in surprise.

"I traded cars with him — he had a full tank of gas and I didn't want to
stop. I didn't dare to go home, to face Esme. She wouldn't have let me go
without a scene. She would have tried to convince me that it wasn't
necessary…

"By the next morning I was in Alaska." He sounded ashamed, as if
admitting a great cowardice. "I spent two days there, with some old
acquaintances… but I was homesick. I hated knowing I'd upset Esme, and

the rest of them, my adopted family. In the pure air of the mountains it
was hard to believe you were so irresistible. I convinced myself it was
weak to run away. I'd dealt with temptation before, not of this
magnitude, not even close, but I was strong. Who were you, an
insignificant little girl" — he grinned suddenly — "to chase me from the
place I wanted to be? So I came back…" He stared off into space.

I couldn't speak.

"I took precautions, hunting, feeding more than usual before seeing you
again. I was sure that I was strong enough to treat you like any other
human. I was arrogant about it.

"It was unquestionably a complication that I couldn't simply read your
thoughts to know what your reaction was to me. I wasn't used to having to
go to such circuitous measures, listening to your words in Jessica's
mind… her mind isn't very original, and it was annoying to have to stoop
to that. And then I couldn't know if you really meant what you said. It
was all extremely irritating." He frowned at the memory.

"I wanted you to forget my behavior that first day, if possible, so I
tried to talk with you like I would with any person. I was eager
actually, hoping to decipher some of your thoughts. But you were too
interesting, I found myself caught up in your expressions… and every now
and then you would stir the air with your hand or your hair, and the
scent would stun me again…

"Of course, then you were nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes.
Later I thought of a perfectly good excuse for why I acted at that moment
— because if I hadn't saved you, if your blood had been spilled there in
front of me, I don't think I could have stopped myself from exposing us
for what we are. But I only thought of that excuse later. At the time,
all I could think was, 'Not her.'"

He closed his eyes, lost in his agonized confession. I listened, more
eager than rational. Common sense told me I should be terrified. Instead,
I was relieved to finally understand. And I was filled with compassion
for his suffering, even now, as he confessed his craving to take my life.

I finally was able to speak, though my voice was faint. "In the hospital?"

His eyes flashed up to mine. "I was appalled. I couldn't believe I had
put us in danger after all, put myself in your power — you of all people.
As if I needed another motive to kill you." We both flinched as that word
slipped out. "But it had the opposite effect," he continued quickly. "I
fought with Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper when they suggested that now was
the time… the worst fight we've ever had. Carlisle sided with me, and
Alice." He grimaced when he said her name. I couldn't imagine why. "Esme
told me to do whatever I had to in order to stay." He shook his head
indulgently.

"All that next day I eavesdropped on the minds of everyone you spoke to,
shocked that you kept your word. I didn't understand you at all. But I
knew that I couldn't become more involved with you. I did my very best to
stay as far from you as possible. And every day the perfume of your skin,
your breath, your hair… it hit me as hard as the very first day."

He met my eyes again, and they were surprisingly tender.

"And for all that," he continued, "I'd have fared better if I had exposed
us all at that first moment, than if now, here — with no witnesses and
nothing to stop me — I were to hurt you."

I was human enough to have to ask. "Why?"

"Isabella." He pronounced my full name carefully, then playfully ruffled
my hair with his free hand. A shock ran through my body at his casual
touch. "Bella, I couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt you. You don't
know how it's tortured me." He looked down, ashamed again. "The thought
of you, still, white, cold… to never see you blush scarlet again, to
never see that flash of intuition in your eyes when you see through my
pretenses… it would be unendurable." He lifted his glorious, agonized

eyes to mine. "You are the most important thing to me now. The most
important thing to me ever."

My head was spinning at the rapid change in direction our conversation
had taken. From the cheerful topic of my impending demise, we were
suddenly declaring ourselves. He waited, and even though I looked down to
study our hands between us, I knew his golden eyes were on me. "You
already know how I feel, of course," I finally said. "I'm here… which,
roughly translated, means I would rather die than stay away from you." I
frowned. "I'm an idiot."

"You are an idiot," he agreed with a laugh. Our eyes met, and I laughed,
too. We laughed together at the idiocy and sheer impossibility of such a
moment.

"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb…" he murmured. I looked away,
hiding my eyes as I thrilled to the word.

"What a stupid lamb," I sighed.

"What a sick, masochistic lion." He stared into the shadowy forest for a
long moment, and I wondered where his thoughts had taken him.

"Why… ?" I began, and then paused, not sure how to continue.

He looked at me and smiled; sunlight glinted off his face, his teeth.

"Yes?"

"Tell me why you ran from me before."

His smile faded. "You know why."

"No, I mean, exactly what did I do wrong? I'll have to be on my guard,
you see, so I better start learning what I shouldn't do. This, for
example" — I stroked the back of his hand — "seems to be all right."

He smiled again. "You didn't do anything wrong, Bella. It was my fault."

"But I want to help, if I can, to not make this harder for you."

"Well…" He contemplated for a moment. "It was just how close you were.
Most humans instinctively shy away from us, are repelled by our
alienness… I wasn't expecting you to come so close. And the smell of your
throat." He stopped short, looking to see if he'd upset me.

"Okay, then," I said flippantly, trying to alleviate the suddenly tense
atmosphere. I tucked my chin. "No throat exposure."

It worked; he laughed. "No, really, it was more the surprise than
anything else."

He raised his free hand and placed it gently on the side of my neck. I
sat very still, the chill of his touch a natural warning — a warning
telling me to be terrified. But there was no feeling of fear in me. There
were, however, other feelings…

"You see," he said. "Perfectly fine."

My blood was racing, and I wished I could slow it, sensing that this must
make everything so much more difficult — the thudding of my pulse in my
veins. Surely he could hear it.

"The blush on your cheeks is lovely," he murmured. He gently freed his
other hand. My hands fell limply into my lap. Softly he brushed my cheek,
then held my face between his marble hands.

"Be very still," he whispered, as if I wasn't already frozen.

Slowly, never moving his eyes from mine, he leaned toward me. Then
abruptly, but very gently, he rested his cold cheek against the hollow at
the base of my throat. I was quite unable to move, even if I'd wanted to.

I listened to the sound of his even breathing, watching the sun and wind
play in his bronze hair, more human than any other part of him.

With deliberate slowness, his hands slid down the sides of my neck. I
shivered, and I heard him catch his breath. But his hands didn't pause as
they softly moved to my shoulders, and then stopped.

His face drifted to the side, his nose skimming across my collarbone. He
came to rest with the side of his face pressed tenderly against my chest.

Listening to my heart.

"Ah," he sighed.

I don't know how long we sat without moving. It could have been hours.
Eventually the throb of my pulse quieted, but he didn't move or speak
again as he held me. I knew at any moment it could be too much, and my
life could end — so quickly that I might not even notice. And I couldn't
make myself be afraid. I couldn't think of anything, except that he was
touching me.

And then, too soon, he released me.

His eyes were peaceful.

"It won't be so hard again," he said with satisfaction.

"Was that very hard for you?"

"Not nearly as bad as I imagined it would be. And you?"

"No, it wasn't bad… for me."

He smiled at my inflection. "You know what I mean."

I smiled.

"Here." He took my hand and placed it against his cheek. "Do you feel how
warm it is?"

And it was almost warm, his usually icy skin. But I barely noticed, for I
was touching his face, something I'd dreamed of constantly since the
first day I'd seen him.

"Don't move," I whispered.

No one could be still like Edward. He closed his eyes and became as
immobile as stone, a carving under my hand.

I moved even more slowly than he had, careful not to make one unexpected
move. I caressed his cheek, delicately stroked his eyelid, the purple
shadow in the hollow under his eye. I traced the shape of his perfect
nose, and then, so carefully, his flawless lips. His lips parted under my
hand, and I could feel his cool breath on my fingertips. I wanted to lean
in, to inhale the scent of him. So I dropped my hand and leaned away, not
wanting to push him too far.

He opened his eyes, and they were hungry. Not in a way to make me fear,
but rather to tighten the muscles in the pit of my stomach and send my
pulse hammering through my veins again.

"I wish," he whispered, "I wish you could feel the… complexity… the
confusion… I feel. That you could understand."

He raised his hand to my hair, then carefully brushed it across my face.

"Tell me," I breathed.

"I don't think I can. I've told you, on the one hand, the hunger — the
thirst — that, deplorable creature that I am, I feel for you. And I think
you can understand that, to an extent. Though" — he half-smiled — "as you
are not addicted to any illegal substances, you probably can't empathize

completely.

"But…" His fingers touched my lips lightly, making me shiver again.
"There are other hungers. Hungers I don't even understand, that are
foreign to me."

"I may understand that better than you think."

"I'm not used to feeling so human. Is it always like this?"

"For me?" I paused. "No, never. Never before this."

He held my hands between his. They felt so feeble in his iron strength.

"I don't know how to be close to you," he admitted. "I don't know if I
can."

I leaned forward very slowly, cautioning him with my eyes. I placed my
cheek against his stone chest. I could hear his breath, and nothing else.

"This is enough," I sighed, closing my eyes.

In a very human gesture, he put his arms around me and pressed his face
against my hair.

"You're better at this than you give yourself credit for," I noted.

"I have human instincts — they may be buried deep, but they're there."

We sat like that for another immeasurable moment; I wondered if he could
be as unwilling to move as I was. But I could see the light was fading,
the shadows of the forest beginning to touch us, and I sighed.

"You have to go."

"I thought you couldn't read my mind."

"It's getting clearer." I could hear a smile in his voice.

He took my shoulders and I looked into his face.

"Can I show you something?" he asked, sudden excitement flaring in his
eyes.

"Show me what?"

"I'll show you how I travel in the forest." He saw my expression. "Don't
worry, you'll be very safe, and we'll get to your truck much faster." His
mouth twitched up into that crooked smile so beautiful my heart nearly
stopped.

"Will you turn into a bat?" I asked warily.

He laughed, louder than I'd ever heard. "Like I haven't heard that one
before!"

"Right, I'm sure you get that all the time."

"Come on, little coward, climb on my back."

I waited to see if he was kidding, but, apparently, he meant it. He
smiled as he read my hesitation, and reached for me. My heart reacted;
even though he couldn't hear my thoughts, my pulse always gave me away.
He then proceeded to sling me onto his back, with very little effort on
my part, besides, when in place, clamping my legs and arms so tightly
around him that it would choke a normal person. It was like clinging to a
stone.

"I'm a bit heavier than your average backpack," I warned.

"Hah!" he snorted. I could almost hear his eyes rolling. I'd never seen
him in such high spirits before.

He startled me, suddenly grabbing my hand, pressing my palm to his face,
and inhaling deeply.

"Easier all the time," he muttered.

And then he was running.

If I'd ever feared death before in his presence, it was nothing compared
to how I felt now.

He streaked through the dark, thick underbrush of the forest like a
bullet, like a ghost. There was no sound, no evidence that his feet
touched the earth. His breathing never changed, never indicated any
effort. But the trees flew by at deadly speeds, always missing us by
inches.

I was too terrified to close my eyes, though the cool forest air whipped
against my face and burned them. I felt as if I were stupidly sticking my
head out the window of an airplane in flight. And, for the first time in
my life, I felt the dizzy faintness of motion sickness.

Then it was over. We'd hiked hours this morning to reach Edward's meadow,
and now, in a matter of minutes, we were back to the truck.

"Exhilarating, isn't it?" His voice was high, excited.

He stood motionless, waiting for me to climb down. I tried, but my
muscles wouldn't respond. My arms and legs stayed locked around him while
my head spun uncomfortably.

"Bella?" he asked, anxious now.

"I think I need to lie down," I gasped.

"Oh, sorry." He waited for me, but I still couldn't move.

"I think I need help," I admitted.

He laughed quietly, and gently unloosened my stranglehold on his neck.
There was no resisting the iron strength of his hands. Then he pulled me
around to face him, cradling me in his arms like a small child. He held
me for a moment, then carefully placed me on the springy ferns.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

I couldn't be sure how I felt when my head was spinning so crazily.
"Dizzy, I think."

"Put your head between your knees."

I tried that, and it helped a little. I breathed in and out slowly,
keeping my head very still. I felt him sitting beside me. The moments
passed, and eventually I found that I could raise my head. There was a
hollow ringing sound in my ears.

"I guess that wasn't the best idea," he mused.

I tried to be positive, but my voice was weak. "No, it was very
interesting."

"Hah! You're as white as a ghost — no, you're as white as me!"

"I think I should have closed my eyes."

"Remember that next time."

"Next time!" I groaned.

He laughed, his mood still radiant.

"Show-off," I muttered.

"Open your eyes, Bella," he said quietly.

And he was right there, his face so close to mine. His beauty stunned my
mind — it was too much, an excess I couldn't grow accustomed to.

"I was thinking, while I was running…" He paused.

"About not hitting the trees, I hope."

"Silly Bella," he chuckled. "Running is second nature to me, it's not
something I have to think about."

"Show-off," I muttered again.

He smiled.

"No," he continued, "I was thinking there was something I wanted to try."
And he took my face in his hands again.

I couldn't breathe.

He hesitated — not in the normal way, the human way.

Not the way a man might hesitate before he kissed a woman, to gauge her
reaction, to see how he would be received. Perhaps he would hesitate to
prolong the moment, that ideal moment of anticipation, sometimes better
than the kiss itself.

Edward hesitated to test himself, to see if this was safe, to make sure
he was still in control of his need.

And then his cold, marble lips pressed very softly against mine.

What neither of us was prepared for was my response.

Blood boiled under my skin, burned in my lips. My breath came in a wild
gasp. My fingers knotted in his hair, clutching him to me. My lips parted
as I breathed in his heady scent.

Immediately I felt him turn to unresponsive stone beneath my lips. His
hands gently, but with irresistible force, pushed my face back. I opened
my eyes and saw his guarded expression.

"Oops," I breathed.

"That's an understatement."

His eyes were wild, his jaw clenched in acute restraint, yet he didn't
lapse from his perfect articulation. He held my face just inches from
his. He dazzled my eyes.

"Should I… ?" I tried to disengage myself, to give him some room.

His hands refused to let me move so much as an inch.

"No, it's tolerable. Wait for a moment, please." His voice was polite,
controlled.

I kept my eyes on his, watched as the excitement in them faded and
gentled.

Then he smiled a surprisingly impish grin.

"There," he said, obviously pleased with himself.

"Tolerable?" I asked.

He laughed aloud. "I'm stronger than I thought. It's nice to know."

"I wish I could say the same. I'm sorry."

"You are only human, after all."

"Thanks so much," I said, my voice acerbic.

He was on his feet in one of his lithe, almost invisibly quick movements.
He held out his hand to me, an unexpected gesture. I was so used to our
standard of careful non-contact. I took his icy hand, needing the support
more than I thought. My balance had not yet returned.

"Are you still faint from the run? Or was it my kissing expertise?" How
lighthearted, how human he seemed as he laughed now, his seraphic face
untroubled. He was a different Edward than the one I had known. And I
felt all the more besotted by him. It would cause me physical pain to be
separated from him now.

"I can't be sure, I'm still woozy," I managed to respond. "I think it's
some of both, though."

"Maybe you should let me drive."

"Are you insane?" I protested.

"I can drive better than you on your best day," he teased. "You have much
slower reflexes."

"I'm sure that's true, but I don't think my nerves, or my truck, could
take it."

"Some trust, please, Bella."

My hand was in my pocket, curled tightly around the key. I pursed my
lips, deliberated, then shook my head with a tight grin.

"Nope. Not a chance."

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

I started to step around him, heading for the driver's side. He might
have let me pass if I hadn't wobbled slightly. Then again, he might not
have. His arm created an inescapable snare around my waist.

"Bella, I've already expended a great deal of personal effort at this
point to keep you alive. I'm not about to let you behind the wheel of a
vehicle when you can't even walk straight. Besides, friends don't let
friends drive drunk," he quoted with a chuckle. I could smell the
unbearably sweet fragrance coming off his chest.

"Drunk?" I objected.

"You're intoxicated by my very presence." He was grinning that playful
smirk again.

"I can't argue with that," I sighed. There was no way around it; I
couldn't resist him in anything. I held the key high and dropped it,
watching his hand flash like lightning to catch it soundlessly. "Take it
easy — my truck is a senior citizen."

"Very sensible," he approved.

"And are you not affected at all?" I asked, irked. "By my presence?"

Again his mobile features transformed, his expression became soft, warm.
He didn't answer at first; he simply bent his face to mine, and brushed
his lips slowly along my jaw, from my ear to my chin, back and forth. I
trembled.

"Regardless," he finally murmured, "I have better reflexes."
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八爷°

ZxID：13286336

1247314鲜花 70鸡蛋

等级: 内阁元老
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离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
举报 只看该作者 12楼  发表于: 2012-08-14 0
第十二章 平衡
第十二章 平衡

“比利！”查理一下车就喊道。

我转身向屋子走去，躲到门廊底下的时候，我才向雅克布招手示意。我听到查理在我身后招呼着他们。

“我会假装没有看到你坐在方向盘后的，杰克。”他不以为然地说道。

“在保留区我们会更早地拿到驾照。”雅克布说道。这时我打开门，在门廊里轻拂着头发。

“你当然会。”查理大笑着说。

“无论如何我都得到处转转。”不管过了多少年，我依然能轻而易举地认出比利洪亮的声音。这声音让我忽然觉得自己小了几岁，还是个孩子。

我走进屋，把门敞开着，在挂起我的夹克以前先把灯打开。然后我站在门里，焦急地看着查理和雅克布帮助比利从车里出来，坐到轮椅上。

当他们三个冲进来，甩着身上的雨水时，我让开了路。

“这实在是个惊喜。”查理说着。

“已经过了很久了。”比利回答道。“我希望那段时间不算太糟糕。”他黑色的眼睛又一次掠过我，眼里的神情让人难以读懂。

“不，那好极了。我希望你能留下来看比赛。”

雅克布咧嘴一笑。“我想计划是这样的——我们的电视机上个礼拜坏掉了。”

比利对自己的儿子作了个鬼脸。“还有，当然，雅克布也渴望着再次见到贝拉。”他补充道。雅克布皱起眉，迅速低下了头。我按捺住了一阵汹涌而至的自责。也许在沙滩上我表现得太令人信服了。

“你们饿了吗？”我问道，转身向厨房走去。我渴望着逃离比利洞察的注视。

“不，我们来之前刚吃过。”雅克布答道。

“你呢，查理？”当我转过拐角的时候，我越过肩膀向后喊道。

“当然。”他应声说道。他的声音向着前厅和电视机的方向移动着。我能听到比利的轮椅跟着过去了。

烤奶酪三明治已经在煎锅里了，我正在把一个马铃薯切片，这时我感觉到某人正站在我身后。

“那么，最近过得怎么样？”雅克布问道。

“相当不错。”我微笑着说。要抵抗住他的热情是件很难的事。“你呢？你的车弄好了吗？”

“没。”他皱起眉。“我还需要一些零部件。这辆车是我们借来的。”他用拇指指着前院的方向。

“对不起。我没看到什么……你要找的是什么？”

“制动缸。”他咧嘴一笑。“那辆卡车有什么问题吗？”他忽然补充道。

“没有。”

“哦。我只是有点怀疑，因为你不再开它。”

我低下头看着煎锅，夹起一片三明治的一角，检查朝下的那一面。“我搭一个朋友的车上学。”

“好车。”雅克布的声音里充满了赞叹。“但是我不认识开车的那个人。我想我认识这附近的大部分孩子。”

我含糊地点点头，始终低着头，给三明治翻面。

“我爸似乎在什么地方认识了他。”

“雅克布，你能递给我几个盘子吗？它们就在水槽上的橱柜里。”

“好的。”

他沉默着走过去拿盘子。我希望他现在不要再提这件事了。

“那么，他是谁？”他问道，把两个盘子放到了我旁边的流理台上。

我挫败地叹了口气。“爱德华.卡伦。”

出乎我意料的是，他大笑起来。我抬起头看着他，他看上去有一点窘迫不安。

“那么，我猜这解释了一切。”他说道。“我还在奇怪为什么我爸表现得那么古怪呢。”  

“非常正确。”我装出一副无辜的神情。“他不喜欢卡伦一家。”

“迷信的老男人。”雅克布用几不可闻的声音抱怨道。

“你不认为他会对查理说什么吗？”我情不自禁地问道，这些话低声地脱口而出。

雅克布注视了我一会儿，我读不懂他黑眼睛里的神情。“我不能肯定。”他最终答道。“我想上次查理把他狠狠地训斥了一顿。从那以后他们就没怎么说过话——今晚有点重聚的意味，我想。我不认为他会再提起这件事。”

“哦。”我说道，试图让自己听起来漠不关心一些。

在我把食物拿给查理以后，我一直待在前厅里。当雅克布喋喋不休地和我说话时，我假装在看比赛。我是在认真听着大人的对话，寻找着任何比利打算密告我的迹象，试着想出他开口时打断他的方法。

这是一个漫长的夜晚。我有很多作业要做，但我不敢让比利和查理单独相处。最终，比赛结束了。

“你和你的朋友最近会再去海滩吗？”当雅克布把他爸爸推过门槛时，他问道。

“我不能肯定。”我没有正面回答。

“比赛太有趣了，查理。”比利说道。

“下一场比赛时再过来。”查理鼓励道。

“当然，当然。”比利说道。“我们会再到这里来的。晚安。”他的目光飞快地转向我的眼睛，他的笑容消失了。“你要当心，贝拉。”他严肃地补充道。

“谢谢。”我低声说道，看向别处。

当查理向车道挥手的时候，我径直走上楼。

“等等，贝拉。”他说道。

我畏缩了一下。难道在我到起居室加入他们以前，比利就已经得手了吗？

“今天晚上我没找到机会跟你说话。你今天过得怎么样？”

“很好。”我的脚落在第一级台阶上，我迟疑着，搜寻着可以我安全地分享的细节。“我所在的羽毛球队赢了四场比赛。”

“哇噢，我不知道你还会打羽毛球。”

“嗯，我确实不会。但我的搭档相当棒。”我坦白道。

“那是谁？”他带着象征性的兴趣问道。

“呃……迈克.牛顿。”我勉强告诉了他。

“哦是的——你说过你和牛顿家的孩子是朋友。”他精神为之一振。“不错的一家人。”他沉思了片刻。“你为什么不邀请他参加这周末的舞会呢？”

“爸爸！”我呻吟道。“他几乎可以说是正在和我的朋友杰西卡约会。还有，你知道我不能跳舞。”

“哦是的。”他喃喃自语道。然后他认错地向我微笑着。“那么我猜，你这周六出去会相当不错……我计划和署里的家伙一起去钓鱼。那天的天气应该会相当暖和。但如果你想推迟你的旅程，直到有人能跟你一起去的话，我会待在家里。我知道我老是让你一个人待在这里。”

“爸爸，你做得相当不错。”我微笑着，希望我的宽慰没有表现出来。“我从不介意一个人待着——我和你太相似了。”我向他眨了眨眼，而他露出了那个眯着眼的笑容。  
这天晚上我睡得更好些，因为太累了所以没有做梦。当我在这个珍珠灰色的早晨醒来时，我的心情简直乐翻了天。当我用一个夹子把刘海往后别起来的时候，我发现自己在吹口哨，而稍后我跳着下楼时又吹了一声。查理注意到了。

“你今天早上似乎很快活。”吃完早餐后他评价道。

我耸耸肩：“今天是星期五。”

我相当匆忙，这样我就能在查理离开的那一秒准备好。我整理好书包，穿上鞋，刷完牙，甚至在一确定查理走出视线范围的时候我就冲出了门，但爱德华更快。他已经在他那辆银光闪闪的车旁等着了。车窗摇了下来，引擎已经关掉了。

这一次我没再犹豫，飞快地爬进了乘客座，更快地看见了他的脸。他冲我弯弯一笑，停下了我的呼吸和心跳。我没法想象比他更美的天使了。他身上没有什么还能再改进的了。

“你睡得怎么样？”他问道。我怀疑他是否知道自己的声音是多么的动人。

“很好。你昨晚过得怎样？”

“很开心。”他的笑容很愉快。我感觉我错过了一个秘密的笑话。

“我能问你做了什么吗？”我问道。

“不能。”他咧嘴一笑。“今天还是我的。”

他今天想了解别人的事：更多关于蕾妮的事，她的爱好，当我们空闲的时候我们一起做过的事。还有我记得的一位祖母，我寥寥无几的在学校里的朋友——让我困窘的是他居然问起了我约会过的男孩子。我很庆幸自己从没真正地跟谁约会过，所以这个特别的对话没有持续太久。他似乎和杰西卡还有安吉拉一样惊讶于我在罗曼史方面的匮乏。

“所以你从没遇见过你想要的人？”他用严肃的语气问道，这让我想知道他在想什么。

我满心不情愿地诚实答道。“在凤凰城没有。”

他的嘴唇紧紧地抿在一起，抿成了一条坚毅的线条。

此刻我们正在自助餐厅里。这一天又是在一阵模糊中过去了，这很快会变成例行公事的。我利用他短暂的停顿咬了一口硬面包圈。

“今天我必须让你自己开车回去。”当我咀嚼的时候，他宣布，没有提及任何理由。

“为什么？”我诘问道。

“午饭后我要和爱丽丝出去一下。

“哦。”我眨了眨眼睛，既迷惑又失望。“没关系，走回去不算太远。”

他不耐烦地冲我皱起了眉：“我没打算让你走回家。我们会去取你的卡车然后把它给你留在这里。”

“我没带钥匙。”我叹了口气。“我真的不介意走回去。”我真正介意的是错失了和他待在一起的时光。

他摇了摇头。“你的卡车会在这里的，而钥匙会在点火器里——除非你害怕有人会把它偷走。”一想到这里他就大笑起来。

“好吧。”我同意了，撅起了嘴。我非常肯定我的钥匙在我星期三穿的牛仔裤的口袋里，在洗衣间的一堆衣服下面。即使他能闯进我家里，或者以他计划的任何方式进去，他也永远找不到它。他似乎感觉到了我的同意里的挑衅。他自负地坏笑起来。

“那么，你要去哪里？”我用自己所能控制的最若无其事的语气问道。

“狩猎。”他冷酷地回答道。“如果明天我打算和你单独相处，我就得做好万全的预防措施。”他的表情变得乖僻起来……还有恳求。“你随时都可以取消计划，你知道的。”

我低下头，害怕着他那双富有说服力的眼睛。我拒绝承认自己是在害怕他，不管那种危险有多么的真切。这无关紧要。我在脑海里重复着。

“不，”我耳语着，抬起头看着他的脸。“我不能。”

“也许你是对的。”他低声说着，语气苍凉。当我看过去的时候，他眼睛的颜色似乎变黑了。

我改变了话题。“我明天几点能见到你？”我问道，想到他现在就要离开几乎要让我沮丧起来了。

“那得看情况……那天是周六，你不想睡懒觉吗？”他提议道。

“不。”我回答得太快了。他按捺住了一个微笑。

“那么，和往常一样的时间。”他决定道。“查理会在家吗？”

“不，他明天去钓鱼。”一想到事情居然变得如此合宜，我便微笑起来。

他的语气忽然尖锐起来。“如果你没有回家，他会怎么想？”  
“我不知道。”我冷淡地回答道。“他知道我打算洗衣服。也许他会认为我掉进洗衣机里了。”

他冲我阴沉着脸，而我同样绷着脸怒视着他。他的愤怒甚至比我自己的还要有感染力。

“你今晚打算狩猎什么？”当我确定自己已经在怒视竞赛中败北的时候，我问道。

“任何我们在国家公园里能找到的猎物。我们不会走太远。”他有点发愣，因为我竟如此随意地提及他隐秘的事实。

“为什么你要和爱丽丝一起去呢？”我怀疑道。

“爱丽丝最……支持我。”他说着，皱起了眉头。

“那别的人呢？”我羞怯地问道。“他们怎么样？”

那一瞬间，他的额头皱了起来：“怀疑，大部分是这样。”

我飞快地偷看了一眼自己身后的他的家人。他们坐在那里，盯着不同的方向，非常像我第一次看到他们时的情形。只不过现在他们是四个人，他们俊美的，红铜色头发的兄弟正和我相对而坐，他金色的眼睛里很不平静。

“他们不喜欢我。”我猜测道。

“不是这样的。”他否定道，但他的眼神显得太无辜了。“他们只是不明白为什么我不能让你一个人待着。”

我扮了个鬼脸：“同样，我也不明白。”

爱德华缓缓地摇了摇头，冲着天花板翻了翻白眼。然后再次注视着我。“我告诉过你——你根本没有清楚地认识你自己。你和我遇过的任何人都不一样。你让我着迷。”

我瞪着他，确信他现在是在取笑我。

在读懂了我的表情后，他笑了。“我所拥有的优势，”他谨慎地抚了一下他的额头，喃喃低语道。“让我能更好地抓住人类的本性。人心是很容易揣度的。可你……你从不按我的期待行事。（不按我的牌理出牌）你总让我惊奇。”

我看向别处，我的目光又游移到他的家人身上，既窘迫又不满。他的话让我觉得这一切像是一个科学实验。我想嘲笑自己，居然还在期待着别的可能性。

“这个部分很容易解释，”他继续说道。我感觉到他的目光落在了我脸上，但我还是不能看着他，生怕他会看出我眼中的苦恼。“但还有更多……而且这些很难用语言来表达——”

他说话的时候，我依然注视着卡伦家的人。突然罗莎莉，他那个金发的迷人的姐姐，转过头来看着我。不，不是看——是怒视，用阴沉的，冰冷的眼神怒视着我。我想要看向别处，但她的凝视让我动弹不得，直到爱德华中断了说到一半的句子，发出极低的愤怒的声音。那几乎是一阵嘘声。

罗莎莉转过头，而我如释重负地得到了解脱。我看回爱德华——我知道他能看出在我眼中蔓延的混乱和害怕。

他的脸绷紧了，他解释道。“我对此感到抱歉。她只是在担心。你知道……这很危险，不只是对我一个人来说是这样，如果，在和你如此公开地度过了这么多的时光以后……”他垂下了头。

“如果？”

“如果结果……不好。”他把头埋在手中，就像他在天使港那晚所做的那样。他的苦恼再明白不过了。我很想去安慰他，但我很困惑，不知道怎么做。我的手不知不觉地伸向他，但很快，我把手收回了桌子底下，害怕着自己的触摸只会让情况更糟。我慢慢意识到，他的话本应该吓到我的。我等待着恐惧的降临，但所有我能感受到的，只是对他的痛苦感同身受的心痛。

还有沮丧——因为罗莎莉打断了他正要说出的话而沮丧着。我不知道该怎么重提这个话题。他依然把头埋在手里。  

我试图用正常的语气说话：“你现在就得走了吗？”

“是的。”他抬起脸，有一阵他的神情依然很严峻，但随即他的心情改变了，他微笑着说：“这也许是最好的结果了。生物课上我们要看的那部该死的电影还剩十五分钟——我不认为我还能忍受更多的时间。”

我抬起头。爱丽丝——她短短的黑发乱糟糟地围在她精致如精灵般的面孔周围，像一道光圈——突然站到了他身后。即使她一动不动地站在那里，她纤细的身材依然显得那么苗条，那么优雅。

他向她打招呼，却没有把目光从我脸上移开。“爱丽丝。”

“爱德华。”她回应道。她宛如女高音歌手般的声线几乎和他的声音依然有魅力。

“爱丽丝，这是贝拉——贝拉，这是爱丽丝。”他介绍我们认识，漫不经心地用手打着手势，一个歪扭的笑容浮现在他脸上。

“你好，贝拉。”她明朗如黑曜石的眸子有着难以捉摸的神情，但她的微笑很友好。“很高兴终于能见到你了。”

爱德华阴沉地扫了她一眼。

“你好，爱丽丝。”我羞涩地低声说道。

“你准备好了吗？”她问他。

他的语气很生疏。“差不多。我们车上见。”

她一言不发地离开了。她走路的姿势是那么的流畅，有如行云流水，我感到一阵嫉妒的刺痛。

“我应该说‘玩得开心’，或者这是一种错误的情绪吗？”我转回头看他，问道。

“不，‘玩得开心’在任何情况下都适用。”他咧嘴一笑。

“那么，玩得开心！”我努力地让自己听起来很诚恳。当然我还是没能骗过他。

“我尽量。”他依然咧嘴笑着。“你也要尽力让自己安然无恙，求你了。”

“在福克斯安然无恙——真是个挑战。”

“对你来说确实是个挑战。”他的下巴绷得更紧了。“向我保证。”

“我保证尽量让自己安然无恙。”我背诵道。“我今晚会洗衣服——这应该会有一定的危险性。”

“别掉进去。”他嘲弄道。

“我会尽力而为。”

他随即站起来，我也站了起来。

“明天见。”我叹息道。

“这对你来说似乎是一段很长的时光，不是吗？”他若有所思地说道。

我闷闷不乐地点点头。

“我一早就到。”他保证道，弯弯一笑。他伸出手，隔着桌子抚摸着我的脸，又一次轻抚过我的颧骨。然后他转身走开了。我目送着他离去。

那天剩下的时光里，我非常渴望翘课，至少翘掉体育课，但一种本能的警告阻止了我。我知道如果我现在消失的话，迈克和其他人会认为我是和爱德华在一起。而爱德华正担心我们公开相处的时间太多……如果事情向不好的方向发展的话。我拒绝去细想最后一个念头，取而代之的是把注意力集中在让他更安全的方面。

我凭直觉知道——也从他的举止中感觉到——明天会非常关键。我们的关系不会继续这样平衡下去，它已经立在了刀刃上。我们要么落到这头，要么落到那头，这完全基于他的决定，或是他的本能。我早已下定了决心，甚至是在我有意识地作出选择以前就定下来了，我会坚定不移地走到底。因为对我来说，没有什么能比要离他而去的这个念头更让人恐惧，更折磨人了。这是个不可能事件。    

我认命地走去上课。我无法诚实地说出生物课到底上了什么内容。我的脑子一心一意地想着明天的事。体育课上，迈克又和我说话了，他祝我在西雅图过得愉快。我详尽地解释了我已经取消了这次旅程，因为对我的卡车有所顾忌。

“你会和卡伦一起去舞会吗？”他忽然沉下脸，问道。

“不，我根本不打算去舞会。”

“那，你打算做什么？”他问道，兴趣似乎太浓了些。

我的本能的冲动在咆哮着，想告诉他不要多管闲事。不过，我还是明智地撒了谎。

“洗衣服，然后我得为三角函数的测试复习，否则我就要挂掉了。”

“卡伦会帮你复习吗？”

“爱德华，”我强调道。“不会来帮我复习。他这周末要去别的地方。”我惊讶地注意到，这个谎言比平常还要来得自然些。

“哦。”他开始得意洋洋起来。“你知道，无论如何你可以和我们一组去舞会——那会非常酷的。我们可以和你一起跳舞。”他保证道。

脑海里浮现出的杰西卡的表情的画面让我的口气尖锐得有些过头。

“我不打算去舞会，迈克，明白吗？”

“好的。”他再次闷闷不乐起来。“我只是随便说说。”

当这一天的课程终于结束的时候，我毫无热情地向停车场走去。我确实不想走回家，但我实在看不出他怎么能把我的卡车弄回来。但随即，我又开始相信对他来说没有什么不可能。而后，我的直觉被证实了——我的卡车正待在在今天早上他停那辆沃尔沃的地方。我难以置信地摇了摇头，然后打开没锁的车门，看到车钥匙正在点火器里。

一张折叠起来的白纸放在我的座位上。我坐进去，关上门，然后打开了它。是他雅致的笔迹，只有两个字。

“平安。”

卡车要命咆哮着的声音把我吓了一跳。我自嘲地一笑。

当我到家的时候，门把手紧锁着，插销开着，和我今早离开时一样。我走进屋，直接进了洗衣房。同样地，一切看上去和我原来把它们留在那里时一样。我在衣服堆里翻找着我的牛仔裤，找着以后，检查上面的口袋。空的。也许我早就把我的钥匙挂起来了，我想着，摇了摇头。

遵循促使我向迈克撒谎的同样的本能的指示，我打电话给杰西卡，虚伪地祝她在舞会上好运。当她同样祝我和爱德华一起的一天好运时，我告诉她计划取消了。作为一个第三方旁观者，她的失望有点超出必要。之后，我飞快地说了再见。

吃晚餐时查理有些心不在焉，不仅仅是在担心着工作上的事，我猜，也许是一场篮球赛，也许他只是真的很喜欢意大利菜——很难说查理在担心什么。

“你知道，爸爸……”我开口说道，打断了他的沉思。

“怎么了，贝拉？”

“我想在西雅图的事上你是对的。我想我会等到杰西卡或者别人能和我一起去时再作决定。”

“哦，”他惊讶地说道。“哦，好的。那么，你想让我留在家里吗？”

“不用，爸爸，不必改变你的计划。我有成千上万的事情要做……作业，洗衣服……我得去趟图书馆，还有杂货店。我一整天都得进进出出的……你去吧，玩得开心点。”

“你确定？”

“完全肯定，爸爸。还有，冰箱里的鱼少得有点危险——我们只剩下可吃两年，或者三年的存量了。”

“你能撑得过去的，贝拉。”他笑了起来。

“对你我也可以这样说。”我说着，大笑起来。我的笑声有些突兀，但他没注意到。我为欺骗他而深感内疚，几乎就要采纳爱德华的建议，告诉他要去那里了。只是几乎。

晚饭后，我把衣服叠好，又放了一堆进烘干机。不幸的是，这种工作只能让手忙着。我的脑子依然无所事事，于是它完全失控了。我在两种念头间动荡不安着，一方面我的期望是如此的强烈以致于这种感觉几近痛苦，而另一方面一种潜伏着的恐惧正蚕食着我的决心。我不得不一再地提醒自己，我已经作出了我的选择，而且我不打算回头。我太过频繁地把他的字条从口袋里拿出来看，汲取着他所写的两个小小的字。他希望我平安，我一遍又一遍地告诉自己。我只需要坚信着这一点，最终，这个渴望将战胜一切别的念头。而我的另一个选择——把他从我的生活里剔除掉又会怎么样呢？这将是我生命中不能承受之痛。此外，从我来到福克斯时起，他就已经成为了我的生命中的一切。  

但在我心底的一个小小的声音在担心着，想知道这会不会非常地让人受创……如果结局不好的话。

当时间已经太晚，已经到了睡觉时间的时候，我很是宽慰。我知道自己太紧张，根本没法睡着，所以我做了一件我从没做过的事。我故意吃了点感冒药，尽管我并不需要——这种药片能让我昏睡过去，好好地睡上八个小时。正常情况下我不会宽恕自己的这种行为，但明天的情况已经够复杂的了，我没有必要在所有别的事情之外，再雪上加霜地让自己因为睡眠不足而昏昏沉沉。在我等着药物生效的时候，我擦着自己洗得干干净净的头发，直到它直得无懈可击为止，然后焦躁不安地准备好明天要穿的衣服。等到一切为明天做的准备都做完以后，我终于躺到了床上。我感到既兴奋又紧张。我没法停止翻来覆去。我起身在用力装CD的鞋盒里翻找着，直到我找到一张肖邦的小夜曲合辑。我让它安静地播放着，然后又躺下了，全神贯注地放松我身体的某些特定部分。在进行到这种练习的某个地方时，感冒药生效了，我愉快地陷入了昏睡之中。

我醒得很早，幸亏我无端的服用药物，我一夜无梦酣眠。虽然我休息得很好，我还是立刻陷入了昨晚那种头脑发热的狂乱中。我急急忙忙地穿上衣服，抚平脖子上的衣领，不停地摆弄那件棕褐色的毛衣直到它稳稳当当地盖过我的牛仔裤为止。我鬼鬼祟祟地向窗外看了一眼，看见查理已经走了。一层絮状的薄云遮蔽了天空。它们看上去不会持续太久的。

我食不知味地吃完了早餐，然后赶紧去把碗洗干净。我又一次向窗口偷看，但什么都没有改变。我刚刚刷完牙，回到楼下的时候，一阵安静的敲门声响了起来，我的心脏宛如小鸟一般在我的肋骨筑成的笼子里砰然乱撞。

我飞奔到门口，在打开那个简单的插销时遇到了一点困难，但我最终把门拉开了，而他就在那里。当我看到他的脸的那一刻，所有的兴奋都烟消云散了，被平静取而代之。我如释重负地松了一口气——他在这里，昨天的恐惧显得非常荒谬。

起初他并没有微笑——他的脸色很严峻。但在他上上下下地把我检查了一遍以后，他的神情明朗起来，他笑了。

“早上好。”他轻笑着说。

“怎么了？”我低头审视着，确认自己没有忘记任何重要的细节，比方说鞋子，或者裤子。

“我们很般配。”他又笑了起来。我意识到他穿了一件长长的浅棕褐色毛衣，底下穿了一件白色的衬衫，还有蓝色的牛仔裤。我和他一起笑了起来，藏住了一阵隐秘的后悔的刺痛——为什么他就非得看上去像个时装模特，而我却不能呢？

在我锁门的时候，他向卡车走去。他在乘客门那儿等着，脸上写着很容易读懂的受难的表情。

“我们约好的。”我沾沾自喜地提醒他，爬进驾驶座，伸出手给他打开门。

“去哪儿？”我问道。

“系上你的安全带——我已经开始紧张了。”

我狠狠地瞪了他一眼，这才顺从了他的命令。

“去哪儿？”我叹了口气，重复道。

“开上北边的101国道。”他下令道。

当我感觉他在注视着我的脸的时候，要把注意力集中在路况上是一件困难得惊人的事。我只得比平常还要小心地驾驶，穿过这座仍在沉睡的城镇。

“你打算在傍晚以前把车开出福克斯吗？”

“这车老得能当你那辆车的爷爷了——对它尊重一点。”我回嘴道。

与他消极的估计相反，我们很快便开出了小镇的范围。浓密的灌木丛和覆满藤蔓的树干取代了草坪和房屋。

“右转开上110国道。”我正要开口问，他指点道。我沉默地服从了。

“现在一直开到公路尽头。”

我能听到他声音里的笑意，但我害怕开出公路，刚好证明他的担心是对的，所以没敢看过去确认一下。

“那里有什么，在公路的尽头？”我想知道。

“一条小路。”

“我们要走过去？”谢天谢地，我穿的是网球鞋。

“那是个问题吗？”他听起来像是已经预料到了。

“不。”我努力让这个谎言听起来可信些。但如果他觉得我的卡车太慢……

“别担心，那条小路只有五英里长，或者差不多，而且我们不赶时间。”

五英里。我没有回答，这样他就不会听到我因为恐惧而破碎的声音。五英里布满阴险的树根和松散的石头的小路，正阴谋着让我扭伤脚踝，或者用别的方式让我报废。这将是一次丢脸的旅途。

我思索着即将到来的惨剧，我们在沉默中开了一会儿车。

“你在想什么？”许久以后，他不耐烦地问道。

我又一次撒了谎：“只是想知道我们要去哪里？”

“那是天气好时我喜欢去的地方。”他说完后，我们都看出窗外，看着那片越来越稀薄的云层。

“查理说今天会很暖和。”

“你告诉查理你要做什么了吗？”他问道。

“没有。”

“但杰西卡认为我们会一起去西雅图？”他似乎对这念头很是高兴。

“不，我告诉她你取消了，不和我一起去——这是事实。”

“没人知道你和我在一起？”现在，生气了。

“那得看情况……我以为你告诉了爱丽丝？”

“那确实很有帮助，贝拉。”他吼道。

我假装没听见。

“难道你对福克斯如此绝望以致想要自寻死路吗？”（我不记得接力这里是怎么翻的。。。但绝对不是这个意思。。。）当我不理会他时，他诘问道。

“你说过这会给你带来麻烦……如果我们公开地在一起。”我提醒他。

“所以你担心这会给我带来麻烦——如果你没有回家的话？”他的语气依然很愤怒，还有让人刺痛的讽刺。

我点点头，继续看着前方的路面。

他用几不可闻地声音喃喃低语着，他说得太快了，我根本没听懂。

余下的旅程里我们都沉默了。我能感觉到那股激怒的非难依然席卷着他，但我想不出能说点什么。

然后，这条路到了尽头，缩减成一条窄窄的无数足迹踩踏出的小路，路旁立着一个小小的木头标志。我把车停在狭窄的路肩上，走下车，害怕他还在生我的气，而我再也不能把开车当作不去看他的借口了。现在很暖和，甚至比我来福克斯以后最暖的那一天还要温暖，在云层的笼罩下几乎有些闷热了。我脱下了毛衣，把它系在我的腰间，很高兴自己穿了一件浅色的无袖衫——尤其在有五英里的徒步跋涉在前头等着我的时候。

我听到他的门关上了，我看过去，看见他也在脱他的毛衣。他背对着我，面朝着我的卡车后的绵延不绝的森林。

“这边。”他说着，越过肩膀看着我，眼神依然很气恼。他开始向黑暗的森林走去。

“这条小路呢？”恐惧在我的语气里清晰可见，我赶紧绕过卡车跟上他。

“我只是说路的尽头有一条小路，没说我们要走那条小路。”

“没有小路？”我挣扎着问道。

“我不会让你迷路的。”他这才转过身来，露出一个嘲弄的笑容，我抑制住一声喘息。他那件白色衬衫没有袖子，也没有扣上扣子，所以那片光洁雪白的肌肤从他的喉咙一路绵延到他那大理石般的胸廓。他完美的肌肉不再欲盖弥彰地隐藏在衣服下。他太完美了，我感到一阵锥心的绝望。这毫无道理，这样宛如神明的人物不可能属于我。

他注视着我，对我脸上备受折磨的神情困惑不已。

“你想回家了吗？”他安静地问道，一种不同于我的痛苦浸透了他的语气。

“不。”我走向前，直到自己紧挨在他身旁。我焦虑不安着，不想再浪费我还能和他在一起的每一秒钟。

“怎么回事？”他问道，声音是那么的温柔。

“我不是个很好的徒步旅行者。”我沉闷地回答道。“你得非常有耐心才行。”

“我可以很有耐心——如果我努力的话。”他微笑着，抓住了我的视线，试图把我从那阵突如其来的，无法解释的沮丧中拉出来。

我努力向他微笑，但那笑容太假了。他仔细审视着我的脸。

“我会带你回家的。”他保证道。我说不清这个保证是没有限制的，还是指立刻离开。我知道他认为是害怕让我紧张不安。而我又一次对此感到高兴，我是唯一一个他无法读心的人。

“如果你想让我在日落以前穿过这五英里的丛林，你最好现在就开始带路。”我尖刻地说道。他冲我皱起了眉，挣扎着想读懂我的语气和神情。

片刻之后，他放弃了，带头向森林里走去。  

这趟旅程并没有我所畏惧的那样艰难。一路上几乎非常平坦，他为我把潮湿的蕨类植物和密布的苔藓拨到一边。当他笔直的路线穿过了倒下的树木或巨石时，他会帮助我，用手肘把我举起来，然后趁我还神志清醒的时候立刻放开我。他冰冷的触碰落在我的肌肤上，总能让我的心砰砰乱跳，无一落空。有两次，发生这样的状况时，我捕获到了他脸上的神情，我敢肯定他听见了。

我努力让自己的眼睛看向别处，尽可能地不去注意他的完美，但我还是常常偷瞄他。每一次，他的俊美都刺痛了我，带来一阵悲哀。

大多数时候，我们都沉默地走着。偶尔他会胡乱地提问，问一个在过去两天的审问里他没有问及的问题。他询问我的生日，我的小学老师，我童年时的宠物——而我不得不承认在一连养死了三条鱼以后，我放弃了整个计划。那时候他大笑起来，比我习惯的还有响亮——银铃般的回声在空荡荡的森林里回响着，回荡在我们身边。

这趟徒步旅行花掉了我几乎整个上午的时间，但他从未表现出半点不耐烦的迹象。这座森林在我们周围延伸成一座由古树构成的无尽的迷宫，我开始不安，生怕我们永远也无法再走出这座森林。他却悠然自得，轻松地走在这座绿色的迷宫里，丝毫不对我们的方向感到任何疑虑。

几个小时以后，渗入森林里的来自树庐穹顶的阳光开始发生了改变，由阴郁的黄绿色调变为一种更为明亮的翡翠色。天空一定转晴了，就像他之前说过的那样。在我们进入了森林以后，我头一次感到一阵兴奋的颤栗——但很快就变成了不耐烦。

“我们到了吗？”我嘲弄道，假装沉下了脸。

“差不多。”看到我心情的改变，他笑了起来。“你看见前头的光亮了吗？”

我凝望着浓密的丛林。“呃，我应该看到了吗？”

他坏笑起来。“也许对你的眼睛来说早了点。”

“该去检查视力了。”我喃喃低语道。他的坏笑更明显了。

但随后，在又走了一百码以后，我确实看见了树林前头的一片光亮，一片明黄的光辉而非绿色。我加快了脚步，每踏出一步，我的渴望就增长一分。现在他让我走在前面，无声地跟着我。

我走到了那一片光亮的边缘，踏过最后一片蕨类植物，走进了我所见过的最可爱的地方。这片草地很小，几乎是圆形的，开满了野花——紫的，黄的，还有柔和的白色。我能听见不远处，一条奔流不息的溪水欢快的歌声。太阳正在头顶上直直地照射下来，用一种薄雾般的奶油色的阳光填满了这一圈空地。我慢慢地走着，惊奇不已，穿过柔软的芳草，摇曳的花朵，还有温暖的，染成了金色的空气。中途我转过身，想和他分享这一切，但他并没有在我身后，没有在我以为他在的地方。我原地旋转着，寻找着他的身影，一阵突然的恐惧袭击了我。最终我找到了他，他依然站在树庐浓重的阴影下，在这片洼处的边缘，用谨慎的目光看着我。这时我才想起来，这片草地的美丽完全被赶出了我的脑海——爱德华与阳光之谜，他曾经保证过，要在今天向我阐明的。

我向他走了一步，我的眼睛被好奇点亮了。他的眼神很谨慎，显得很不情愿。我鼓励地微笑着，向他招手示意，正要向他再走一步。他警告地举起了一只手，我犹豫了，退回了原处。

爱德华似乎深吸了一口气，然后他走出来，走到正午明亮的阳光下。
12. BALANCING




"Billy!" Charlie called as soon as he got out of the car.

I turned toward the house, beckoning to Jacob as I ducked under the
porch. I heard Charlie greeting them loudly behind me.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't see you behind the wheel, Jake," he said
disapprovingly.

"We get permits early on the rez," Jacob said while I unlocked the door
and flicked on the porch light.

"Sure you do," Charlie laughed.

"I have to get around somehow." I recognized Billy's resonant voice
easily, despite the years. The sound of it made me feel suddenly younger,
a child.

I went inside, leaving the door open behind me and turning on lights
before I hung up my jacket. Then I stood in the door, watching anxiously
as Charlie and Jacob helped Billy out of the car and into his wheelchair.

I backed out of the way as the three of them hurried in, shaking off the
rain.

"This is a surprise," Charlie was saying.

"It's been too long," Billy answered. "I hope it's not a bad time." His
dark eyes flashed up to me again, their expression unreadable.

"No, it's great. I hope you can stay for the game."

Jacob grinned. "I think that's the plan — our TV broke last week."

Billy made a face at his son. "And, of course, Jacob was anxious to see
Bella again," he added. Jacob scowled and ducked his head while I fought
back a surge of remorse. Maybe I'd been too convincing on the beach.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, turning toward the kitchen. I was eager to
escape Billy's searching gaze.

"Naw, we ate just before we came," Jacob answered.

"How about you, Charlie?" I called over my shoulder as I fled around the
corner.

"Sure," he replied, his voice moving in the direction of the front room
and the TV. I could hear Billy's chair follow.

The grilled cheese sandwiches were in the frying pan and I was slicing up
a tomato when I sensed someone behind me.

"So, how are things?" Jacob asked.

"Pretty good." I smiled. His enthusiasm was hard to resist. "How about
you? Did you finish your car?"

"No." He frowned. "I still need parts. We borrowed that one." He pointed
with his thumb in the direction of the front yard.

"Sorry. I haven't seen any… what was it you were looking for?"

"Master cylinder." He grinned. "Is something wrong with the truck?" he
added suddenly.

"No."

"Oh. I just wondered because you weren't driving it."

I stared down at the pan, pulling up the edge of a sandwich to check the
bottom side. "I got a ride with a friend."

"Nice ride." Jacob's voice was admiring. "I didn't recognize the driver,
though. I thought I knew most of the kids around here."

I nodded noncommittally, keeping my eyes down as I flipped sandwiches.

"My dad seemed to know him from somewhere."

"Jacob, could you hand me some plates? They're in the cupboard over the
sink."

"Sure."

He got the plates in silence. I hoped he would let it drop now.

"So who was it?" he asked, setting two plates on the counter next to me.

I sighed in defeat. "Edward Cullen."

To my surprise, he laughed. I glanced up at him. He looked a little
embarrassed.

"Guess that explains it, then," he said. "I wondered why my dad was
acting so strange."

"That's right." I faked an innocent expression. "He doesn't like the
Cullens."

"Superstitious old man," Jacob muttered under his breath.

"You don't think he'd say anything to Charlie?" I couldn't help asking,
the words coming out in a low rush.

Jacob stared at me for a moment, and I couldn't read the expression in
his dark eyes. "I doubt it," he finally answered. "I think Charlie chewed
him out pretty good last time. They haven't spoken much since — tonight
is sort of a reunion, I think. I don't think he'd bring it up again."

"Oh," I said, trying to sound indifferent.

I stayed in the front room after I carried the food out to Charlie,
pretending to watch the game while Jacob chattered at me. I was really
listening to the men's conversation, watching for any sign that Billy was
about to rat me out, trying to think of ways to stop him if he began.

It was a long night. I had a lot of homework that was going undone, but I
was afraid to leave Billy alone with Charlie. Finally, the game ended.

"Are you and your friends coming back to the beach soon?" Jacob asked as
he pushed his father over the lip of the threshold.

"I'm not sure," I hedged.

"That was fun, Charlie," Billy said.

"Come up for the next game," Charlie encouraged.

"Sure, sure," Billy said. "We'll be here. Have a good night." His eyes
shifted to mine, and his smile disappeared. "You take care, Bella," he
added seriously.

"Thanks," I muttered, looking away.

I headed for the stairs while Charlie waved from the doorway.

"Wait, Bella," he said.

I cringed. Had Billy gotten something in before I'd joined them in the
living room?

But Charlie was relaxed, still grinning from the unexpected visit.

"I didn't get a chance to talk to you tonight. How was your day?"

"Good." I hesitated with one foot on the first stair, searching for
details I could safely share. "My badminton team won all four games."

"Wow, I didn't know you could play badminton."

"Well, actually I can't, but my partner is really good," I admitted.

"Who is it?" he asked with token interest.

"Um… Mike Newton," I told him reluctantly.

"Oh yeah — you said you were friends with the Newton kid." He perked up.
"Nice family." He mused for a minute. "Why didn't you ask him to the
dance this weekend?"

"Dad!" I groaned. "He's kind of dating my friend Jessica. Besides, you
know I can't dance."

"Oh yeah," he muttered. Then he smiled at me apologetically. "So I guess
it's good you'll be gone Saturday… I've made plans to go fishing with the
guys from the station. The weather's supposed to be real warm. But if you
wanted to put your trip off till someone could go with you, I'd stay
home. I know I leave you here alone too much."

"Dad, you're doing a great job." I smiled, hoping my relief didn't show.
"I've never minded being alone — I'm too much like you." I winked at him,
and he smiled his crinkly-eyed smile.



I slept better that night, too tired to dream again. When I woke to the
pearl gray morning, my mood was blissful. The tense evening with Billy
and Jacob seemed harmless enough now; I decided to forget it completely.
I caught myself whistling while I was pulling the front part of my hair
back into a barrette, and later again as I skipped down the stairs.
Charlie noticed.

"You're cheerful this morning," he commented over breakfast.

I shrugged. "It's Friday."

I hurried so I would be ready to go the second Charlie left. I had my bag
ready, shoes on, teeth brushed, but even though I rushed to the door as
soon as I was sure Charlie would be out of sight, Edward was faster. He
was waiting in his shiny car, windows down, engine off.

I didn't hesitate this time, climbing in the passenger side quickly, the
sooner to see his face. He grinned his crooked smile at me, stopping my
breath and my heart. I couldn't imagine how an angel could be any more
glorious. There was nothing about him that could be improved upon.

"How did you sleep?" he asked. I wondered if he had any idea how
appealing his voice was.

"Fine. How was your night?"

"Pleasant." His smile was amused; I felt like I was missing an inside
joke.

"Can I ask what you did?" I asked.

"No." He grinned. "Today is still mine."

He wanted to know about people today: more about Renée, her hobbies, what
we'd done in our free time together. And then the one grandmother I'd

known, my few school friends — embarrassing me when he asked about boys
I'd dated. I was relieved that I'd never really dated anyone, so that
particular conversation couldn't last long. He seemed as surprised as
Jessica and Angela by my lack of romantic history.

"So you never met anyone you wanted?" he asked in a serious tone that
made me wonder what he was thinking about.

I was grudgingly honest. "Not in Phoenix."

His lips pressed together into a hard line.

We were in the cafeteria at this point. The day had sped by in the blur
that was rapidly becoming routine. I took advantage of his brief pause to
take a bite of my bagel.

"I should have let you drive yourself today," he announced, apropos of
nothing, while I chewed.

"Why?" I demanded.

"I'm leaving with Alice after lunch."

"Oh." I blinked, bewildered and disappointed. "That's okay, it's not that
far of a walk."

He frowned at me impatiently. "I'm not going to make you walk home. We'll
go get your truck and leave it here for you."

"I don't have my key with me," I sighed. "I really don't mind walking."
What I minded was losing my time with him.

He shook his head. "Your truck will be here, and the key will be in the
ignition — unless you're afraid someone might steal it." He laughed at
the thought.

"All right," I agreed, pursing my lips. I was pretty sure my key was in
the pocket of a pair of jeans I wore Wednesday, under a pile of clothes
in the laundry room. Even if he broke into my house, or whatever he was
planning, he'd never find it. He seemed to feel the challenge in my
consent. He smirked, overconfident.

"So where are you going?" I asked as casually as I could manage.

"Hunting," he answered grimly. "If I'm going to be alone with you
tomorrow, I'm going to take whatever precautions I can." His face grew
morose… and pleading. "You can always cancel, you know."

I looked down, afraid of the persuasive power of his eyes. I refused to
be convinced to fear him, no matter how real the danger might be. It
doesn't matter, I repeated in my head.

"No," I whispered, glancing back at his face. "I can't."

"Perhaps you're right," he murmured bleakly. His eyes seemed to darken in
color as I watched.

I changed the subject. "What time will I see you tomorrow?" I asked,
already depressed by the thought of him leaving now.

"That depends… it's a Saturday, don't you want to sleep in?" he offered.

"No," I answered too fast. He restrained a smile.

"The same time as usual, then," he decided. "Will Charlie be there?"

"No, he's fishing tomorrow." I beamed at the memory of how conveniently
things had worked out.

His voice turned sharp. "And if you don't come home, what will he think?"

"I have no idea," I answered coolly. "He knows I've been meaning to do

the laundry. Maybe he'll think I fell in the washer."

He scowled at me and I scowled back. His anger was much more impressive
than mine.

"What are you hunting tonight?" I asked when I was sure I had lost the
glowering contest.

"Whatever we find in the park. We aren't going far." He seemed bemused by
my casual reference to his secret realities.

"Why are you going with Alice?" I wondered.

"Alice is the most… supportive." He frowned as he spoke.

"And the others?" I asked timidly. "What are they?"

His brow puckered for a brief moment. "Incredulous, for the most part."

I peeked quickly behind me at his family. They sat staring off in
different directions, exactly the same as the first time I'd seen them.
Only now they were four; their beautiful, bronze-haired brother sat
across from me, his golden eyes troubled.

"They don't like me," I guessed.

"That's not it," he disagreed, but his eyes were too innocent. "They
don't understand why I can't leave you alone."

I grimaced. "Neither do I, for that matter."

Edward shook his head slowly, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling before
he met my gaze again. "I told you — you don't see yourself clearly at
all. You're not like anyone I've ever known. You fascinate me."

I glared at him, sure he was teasing now.

He smiled as he deciphered my expression. "Having the advantages I do,"
he murmured, touching his forehead discreetly, "I have a better than
average grasp of human nature. People are predictable. But you… you never
do what I expect. You always take me by surprise."

I looked away, my eyes wandering back to his family, embarrassed and
dissatisfied. His words made me feel like a science experiment. I wanted
to laugh at myself for expecting anything else.

"That part is easy enough to explain," he continued. I felt his eyes on
my face but I couldn't look at him yet, afraid he might read the chagrin
in my eyes. "But there's more… and it's not so easy to put into words —"

I was still staring at the Cullens while he spoke. Suddenly Rosalie, his
blond and breathtaking sister, turned to look at me. No, not to look — to
glare, with dark, cold eyes. I wanted to look away, but her gaze held me
until Edward broke off mid-sentence and made an angry noise under his
breath. It was almost a hiss.

Rosalie turned her head, and I was relieved to be free. I looked back at
Edward — and I knew he could see the confusion and fear that widened my
eyes.

His face was tight as he explained. "I'm sorry about that. She's just
worried. You see… it's dangerous for more than just me if, after spending
so much time with you so publicly…" He looked down.

"If?"

"If this ends… badly." He dropped his head into his hands, as he had that
night in Port Angeles. His anguish was plain; I yearned to comfort him,
but I was at a loss to know how. My hand reached toward him
involuntarily; quickly, though, I dropped it to the table, fearing that
my touch would only make things worse. I realized slowly that his words
should frighten me. I waited for that fear to come, but all I could seem

to feel was an ache for his pain.

And frustration — frustration that Rosalie had interrupted whatever he
was about to say. I didn't know how to bring it up again. He still had
his head in his hands.

I tried to speak in a normal voice. "And you have to leave now?"

"Yes." He raised his face; it was serious for a moment, and then his mood
shifted and he smiled. "It's probably for the best. We still have fifteen
minutes of that wretched movie left to endure in Biology — I don't think
I could take any more."

I started. Alice — her short, inky hair in a halo of spiky disarray
around her exquisite, elfin face — was suddenly standing behind his
shoulder. Her slight frame was willowy, graceful even in absolute
stillness.

He greeted her without looking away from me. "Alice."

"Edward," she answered, her high soprano voice almost as attractive as
his.

"Alice, Bella — Bella, Alice," he introduced us, gesturing casually with
his hand, a wry smile on his face.

"Hello, Bella." Her brilliant obsidian eyes were unreadable, but her
smile was friendly. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Edward flashed a dark look at her.

"Hi, Alice," I murmured shyly.

"Are you ready?" she asked him.

His voice was aloof. "Nearly. I'll meet you at the car."

She left without another word; her walk was so fluid, so sinuous that I
felt a sharp pang of jealousy.

"Should I say 'have fun,' or is that the wrong sentiment?" I asked,
turning back to him.

"No, 'have fun' works as well as anything." He grinned.

"Have fun, then." I worked to sound wholehearted. Of course I didn't fool
him.

"I'll try." He still grinned. "And you try to be safe, please."

"Safe in Forks — what a challenge."

"For you it is a challenge." His jaw hardened. "Promise."

"I promise to try to be safe," I recited. "I'll do the laundry tonight —
that ought to be fraught with peril."

"Don't fall in," he mocked.

"I'll do my best."

He stood then, and I rose, too.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I sighed.

"It seems like a long time to you, doesn't it?" he mused.

I nodded glumly.

"I'll be there in the morning," he promised, smiling his crooked smile.
He reached across the table to touch my face, lightly brushing along my
cheekbone again. Then he turned and walked away. I stared after him until

he was gone.

I was sorely tempted to ditch the rest of the day, at the very least Gym,
but a warning instinct stopped me. I knew that if I disappeared now, Mike
and others would assume I was with Edward. And Edward was worried about
the time we'd spent together publicly… if things went wrong. I refused to
dwell on the last thought, concentrating instead on making things safer
for him.

I intuitively knew — and sensed he did, too — that tomorrow would be
pivotal. Our relationship couldn't continue to balance, as it did, on the
point of a knife. We would fall off one edge or the other, depending
entirely upon his decision, or his instincts. My decision was made, made
before I'd ever consciously chosen, and I was committed to seeing it
through. Because there was nothing more terrifying to me, more
excruciating, than the thought of turning away from him. It was an
impossibility.

I went to class, feeling dutiful. I couldn't honestly say what happened
in Biology; my mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of tomorrow. In
Gym, Mike was speaking to me again; he wished me a good time in Seattle.
I carefully explained that I'd canceled my trip, worried about my truck.

"Are you going to the dance with Cullen?" he asked, suddenly sulky.

"No, I'm not going to the dance at all."

"What are you doing, then?" he asked, too interested.

My natural urge was to tell him to butt out. Instead, I lied brightly.

"Laundry, and then I have to study for the Trig test or I'm going to
fail."

"Is Cullen helping you study?"

"Edward," I emphasized, "is not going to help me study. He's gone away
somewhere for the weekend." The lies came more naturally than usual, I
noted with surprise.

"Oh." He perked up. "You know, you could come to the dance with our group
anyway — that would be cool. We'd all dance with you," he promised.

The mental image of Jessica's face made my tone sharper than necessary.

"I'm not going to the dance, Mike, okay?"

"Fine." He sulked again. "I was just offering."

When the school day had finally ended, I walked to the parking lot
without enthusiasm. I did not especially want to walk home, but I
couldn't see how he would have retrieved my truck. Then again, I was
starting to believe that nothing was impossible for him. The latter
instinct proved correct — my truck sat in the same space he'd parked his
Volvo in this morning. I shook my head, incredulous, as I opened the
unlocked door and saw the key in the ignition.

There was a piece of white paper folded on my seat. I got in and closed
the door before I unfolded it. Two words were written in his elegant
script.



Be safe.

The sound of the truck roaring to life frightened me. I laughed at myself.

When I got home, the handle of the door was locked, the dead bolt
unlocked, just as I'd left it this morning. Inside, I went straight to
the laundry room. It looked just the same as I'd left it, too. I dug for
my jeans and, after finding them, checked the pockets. Empty. Maybe I'd
hung my key up after all, I thought, shaking my head.

Following the same instinct that had prompted me to lie to Mike, I called
Jessica on the pretense of wishing her luck at the dance. When she
offered the same wish for my day with Edward, I told her about the
cancellation. She was more disappointed than really necessary for a
third-party observer to be. I said goodbye quickly after that.

Charlie was absentminded at dinner, worried over something at work, I
guessed, or maybe a basketball game, or maybe he was just really enjoying
the lasagna — it was hard to tell with Charlie.

"You know, Dad…" I began, breaking into his reverie.

"What's that, Bell?"

"I think you're right about Seattle. I think I'll wait until Jessica or
someone else can go with me."

"Oh," he said, surprised. "Oh, okay. So, do you want me to stay home?"

"No, Dad, don't change your plans. I've got a million things to do…
homework, laundry… I need to go to the library and the grocery store.
I'll be in and out all day… you go and have fun."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely, Dad. Besides, the freezer is getting dangerously low on fish
— we're down to a two, maybe three years' supply."

"You're sure easy to live with, Bella." He smiled.

"I could say the same thing about you," I said, laughing. The sound of my
laughter was off, but he didn't seem to notice. I felt so guilty for
deceiving him that I almost took Edward's advice and told him where I
would be. Almost.

After dinner, I folded clothes and moved another load through the dryer.
Unfortunately it was the kind of job that only keeps hands busy. My mind
definitely had too much free time, and it was getting out of control. I
fluctuated between anticipation so intense that it was very nearly pain,
and an insidious fear that picked at my resolve. I had to keep reminding
myself that I'd made my choice, and I wasn't going back on it. I pulled
his note out of my pocket much more often than necessary to absorb the
two small words he'd written. He wants me to be safe, I told myself again
and again. I would just hold on to the faith that, in the end, that
desire would win out over the others. And what was my other choice — to
cut him out of my life? Intolerable. Besides, since I'd come to Forks, it
really seemed like my life was about him.

But a tiny voice in the back of my mind worried, wondering if it would
hurt very much… if it ended badly.

I was relieved when it was late enough to be acceptable for bedtime. I
knew I was far too stressed to sleep, so I did something I'd never done
before. I deliberately took unnecessary cold medicine — the kind that
knocked me out for a good eight hours. I normally wouldn't condone that
type of behavior in myself, but tomorrow would be complicated enough
without me being loopy from sleep deprivation on top of everything else.
While I waited for the drugs to kick in, I dried my clean hair till it
was impeccably straight, and fussed over what I would wear tomorrow. With
everything ready for the morning, I finally lay in my bed. I felt hyper;
I couldn't stop twitching. I got up and rifled through my shoebox of CDs
until I found a collection of Chopin's nocturnes. I put that on very
quietly and then lay down again, concentrating on relaxing individual
parts of my body. Somewhere in the middle of that exercise, the cold
pills took effect, and I gladly sank into unconsciousness.



I woke early, having slept soundly and dreamlessly thanks to my
gratuitous drug use. Though I was well rested, I slipped right back into
the same hectic frenzy from the night before. I dressed in a rush,

smoothing my collar against my neck, fidgeting with the tan sweater till
it hung right over my jeans. I sneaked a swift look out the window to see
that Charlie was already gone. A thin, cottony layer of clouds veiled the
sky. They didn't look very lasting.

I ate breakfast without tasting the food, hurrying to clean up when I was
done. I peeked out the window again, but nothing had changed. I had just
finished brushing my teeth and was heading back downstairs when a quiet
knock sent my heart thudding against my rib cage.

I flew to the door; I had a little trouble with the simple dead bolt, but
I yanked the door open at last, and there he was. All the agitation
dissolved as soon as I looked at his face, calm taking its place. I
breathed a sigh of relief — yesterday's fears seemed very foolish with
him here.

He wasn't smiling at first — his face was somber. But then his expression
lightened as he looked me over, and he laughed.

"Good morning," he chuckled.

"What's wrong?" I glanced down to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything
important, like shoes, or pants.

"We match." He laughed again. I realized he had a long, light tan sweater
on, with a white collar showing underneath, and blue jeans. I laughed
with him, hiding a secret twinge of regret — why did he have to look like
a runway model when I couldn't?

I locked the door behind me while he walked to the truck. He waited by
the passenger door with a martyred expression that was easy to understand.

"We made a deal," I reminded him smugly, climbing into the driver's seat,
and reaching over to unlock his door.

"Where to?" I asked.

"Put your seat belt on — I'm nervous already."

I gave him a dirty look as I complied.

"Where to?" I repeated with a sigh.

"Take the one-oh-one north," he ordered.

It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling
his gaze on my face. I compensated by driving more carefully than usual
through the still-sleeping town.

"Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?"

"This truck is old enough to be your car's grandfather — have some
respect," I retorted.

We were soon out of the town limits, despite his negativity. Thick
underbrush and green-swathed trunks replaced the lawns and houses.

"Turn right on the one-ten," he instructed just as I was about to ask. I
obeyed silently.

"Now we drive until the pavement ends."

I could hear a smile in his voice, but I was too afraid of driving off
the road and proving him right to look over and be sure.

"And what's there, at the pavement's end?" I wondered.

"A trail."

"We're hiking?" Thank goodness I'd worn tennis shoes.

"Is that a problem?" He sounded as if he'd expected as much.

"No." I tried to make the lie sound confident. But if he thought my truck
was slow…

"Don't worry, it's only five miles or so, and we're in no hurry."

Five miles. I didn't answer, so that he wouldn't hear my voice crack in
panic. Five miles of treacherous roots and loose stones, trying to twist
my ankles or otherwise incapacitate me. This was going to be humiliating.

We drove in silence for a while as I contemplated the coming horror.

"What are you thinking?" he asked impatiently after a few moments.

I lied again. "Just wondering where we're going."

"It's a place I like to go when the weather is nice." We both glanced out
the windows at the thinning clouds after he spoke.

"Charlie said it would be warm today."

"And did you tell Charlie what you were up to?" he asked.

"Nope."

"But Jessica thinks we're going to Seattle together?" He seemed cheered
by the idea.

"No, I told her you canceled on me — which is true."

"No one knows you're with me?" Angrily, now.

"That depends… I assume you told Alice?"

"That's very helpful, Bella," he snapped.

I pretended I didn't hear that.

"Are you so depressed by Forks that it's made you suicidal?" he demanded
when I ignored him.

"You said it might cause trouble for you… us being together publicly," I
reminded him.

"So you're worried about the trouble it might cause me— if you don't come
home?" His voice was still angry, and bitingly sarcastic.

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road.

He muttered something under his breath, speaking so quickly that I
couldn't understand.

We were silent for the rest of the drive. I could feel the waves of
infuriated disapproval rolling off of him, and I could think of nothing
to say.

And then the road ended, constricting to a thin foot trail with a small
wooden marker. I parked on the narrow shoulder and stepped out, afraid
because he was angry with me and I didn't have driving as an excuse not
to look at him. It was warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since
the day I'd arrived, almost muggy under the clouds. I pulled off my
sweater and knotted it around my waist, glad that I'd worn the light,
sleeveless shirt — especially if I had five miles of hiking ahead of me.

I heard his door slam, and looked over to see that he'd removed his
sweater, too. He was facing away from me, into the unbroken forest beside
my truck.

"This way," he said, glancing over his shoulder at me, eyes still
annoyed. He started into the dark forest.

"The trail?" Panic was clear in my voice as I hurried around the truck to

catch up to him.

"I said there was a trail at the end of the road, not that we were taking
it."

"No trail?" I asked desperately.

"I won't let you get lost." He turned then, with a mocking smile, and I
stifled a gasp. His white shirt was sleeveless, and he wore it
unbuttoned, so that the smooth white skin of his throat flowed
uninterrupted over the marble contours of his chest, his perfect
musculature no longer merely hinted at behind concealing clothes. He was
too perfect, I realized with a piercing stab of despair. There was no way
this godlike creature could be meant for me.

He stared at me, bewildered by my tortured expression.

"Do you want to go home?" he said quietly, a different pain than mine
saturating his voice.

"No." I walked forward till I was close beside him, anxious not to waste
one second of whatever time I might have with him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"I'm not a good hiker," I answered dully. "You'll have to be very
patient."

"I can be patient — if I make a great effort." He smiled, holding my
glance, trying to lift me out of my sudden, unexplained dejection.

I tried to smile back, but the smile was unconvincing. He scrutinized my
face.

"I'll take you home," he promised. I couldn't tell if the promise was
unconditional, or restricted to an immediate departure. I knew he thought
it was fear that upset me, and I was grateful again that I was the one
person whose mind he couldn't hear.

"If you want me to hack five miles through the jungle before sundown,
you'd better start leading the way," I said acidly. He frowned at me,
struggling to understand my tone and expression.

He gave up after a moment and led the way into the forest.

It wasn't as hard as I had feared. The way was mostly flat, and he held
the damp ferns and webs of moss aside for me. When his straight path took
us over fallen trees or boulders, he would help me, lifting me by the
elbow, and then releasing me instantly when I was clear. His cold touch
on my skin never failed to make my heart thud erratically. Twice, when
that happened, I caught a look on his face that made me sure he could
somehow hear it.

I tried to keep my eyes away from his perfection as much as possible, but
I slipped often. Each time, his beauty pierced me through with sadness.

For the most part, we walked in silence. Occasionally he would ask a
random question that he hadn't gotten to in the past two days of
interrogation. He asked about my birthdays, my grade school teachers, my
childhood pets — and I had to admit that after killing three fish in a
row, I'd given up on the whole institution. He laughed at that, louder
than I was used to — bell-like echoes bouncing back to us from the empty
woods.

The hike took me most of the morning, but he never showed any sign of
impatience. The forest spread out around us in a boundless labyrinth of
ancient trees, and I began to be nervous that we would never find our way
out again. He was perfectly at ease, comfortable in the green maze, never
seeming to feel any doubt about our direction.

After several hours, the light that filtered through the canopy
transformed, the murky olive tone shifting to a brighter jade. The day

had turned sunny, just as he'd foretold. For the first time since we'd
entered the woods, I felt a thrill of excitement — which quickly turned
to impatience.

"Are we there yet?" I teased, pretending to scowl.

"Nearly." He smiled at the change in my mood. "Do you see the brightness
ahead?"

I peered into the thick forest. "Um, should I?"

He smirked. "Maybe it's a bit soon for your eyes."

"Time to visit the optometrist," I muttered. His smirk grew more
pronounced.

But then, after another hundred yards, I could definitely see a
lightening in the trees ahead, a glow that was yellow instead of green. I
picked up the pace, my eagerness growing with every step. He let me lead
now, following noiselessly.

I reached the edge of the pool of light and stepped through the last
fringe of ferns into the loveliest place I had ever seen. The meadow was
small, perfectly round, and filled with wildflowers — violet, yellow, and
soft white. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the bubbling music of a
stream. The sun was directly overhead, filling the circle with a haze of
buttery sunshine. I walked slowly, awestruck, through the soft grass,
swaying flowers, and warm, gilded air. I halfway turned, wanting to share
this with him, but he wasn't behind me where I thought he'd be. I spun
around, searching for him with sudden alarm. Finally I spotted him, still
under the dense shade of the canopy at the edge of the hollow, watching
me with cautious eyes. Only then did I remember what the beauty of the
meadow had driven from my mind — the enigma of Edward and the sun, which
he'd promised to illustrate for me today.

I took a step back toward him, my eyes alight with curiosity. His eyes
were wary, reluctant. I smiled encouragingly and beckoned to him with my
hand, taking another step back to him. He held up a hand in warning, and
I hesitated, rocking back onto my heels.

Edward seemed to take a deep breath, and then he stepped out into the
bright glow of the midday sun.
回复 引用 新鲜事
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八爷°

ZxID：13286336

1247314鲜花 70鸡蛋

等级: 内阁元老
配偶: 四和七
离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
举报 只看该作者 11楼  发表于: 2012-08-14 0
第十一章 复杂
第十一章 复杂

当我们一起走向我们的实验桌时，每个人都在看着我们。我注意到他再也没有坐到椅子一角上，在桌子允许的范围内尽可能的远离我。相反地，他紧紧地挨着我，我们的胳膊几乎要碰到一起了。

然后班纳老师回到了教室——这男人的时间感绝对是一流的——拉着一个高高的带轮子的金属架，上面放着一台看着很笨重的老式电视机和录像机。一次电影日——教室里的昂扬气氛几乎能摸得着了。

班纳老师把磁带推进了那台不太情愿的录像机，走到墙边关上了灯。

然后，当教室里完全暗下来的时候，我忽然敏感地意识到了爱德华正坐在我身旁，不到一英寸的地方。我被一股意外地流过我全身的电流震住了，我发现自己可能比已经做到的还要更加强烈地意识到爱德华的存在，这让我很惊讶。一种疯狂的冲动——在黑暗中伸出手触碰他，去抚摸他完美的面孔，就这一次——几乎要征服了我。我紧紧地把胳膊交叉在胸前，我的手握成了拳。我快要发狂了。

片头字幕开始了，微弱的光线象征性地照着屋子。我的眼睛，出于它们自己的意愿，飞快地向他一瞥。当我意识到他的姿势和我完全一样，也是在手臂下紧握着拳头，从眼皮底下，偷偷地瞄着我时，我羞怯地笑了。他向我咧嘴一笑，不知为何，他的眼睛在黑暗中压抑地燃烧着。在我气息不稳以前，我移开了视线。这实在太荒谬了，我居然感到头晕目眩。

这个小时过得非常漫长。我没法把注意力集中在电影上——我甚至不知道它的主旨是什么。我试图放松下来，但没有成功，那股电流似乎是从他身上的某个地方传来的，从未减缓过。偶尔我会允许自己飞快地瞥一眼他的方向，但他似乎也从未放松过。那种无法抵抗的，去触碰他的渴望同样不肯消失，我只得把自己的拳头安全地压在了手肘下，直到我的手指开始因为压力而刺痛起来为止。

当这堂课到达尾声，班纳老师把灯打开的时候，我松了一口气，宽慰地叹息着。我把胳膊向前伸去，活动着我僵直的手指。爱德华在我背后轻笑着。

“嗯，这很有趣。”他低声说着。他的声音很阴沉，他的眼神十分谨慎。

“唔。”是我所能作出的全部反应。

“我们走吧？”他问道，灵活地站了起来。

我几乎要呻吟出声来。体育课时间到。我小心地站起来，生怕我的平衡能力会受到我们之间新兴的，古怪的紧张气氛的影响。

他沉默地陪着我向下一堂课走去，然后停在了门外，我转身要说再见。他的脸把我吓了一跳——他的神情是全然的挣扎，几近痛苦，却又如此残酷的美丽。想要触碰他的渴望又熊熊燃烧起来，和之前一样强烈。我的再见卡在了喉咙里。

他迟疑地伸出手，矛盾在他的眼中迸发着，然后他飞快地用指尖轻轻拂过我的颧骨。他的肌肤还是那样的冰冷，但他的指尖在我的肌肤上走过的足迹却温暖得惊人——就好像我被烧着了一样，却完全没有感觉到灼烧的痛苦。

他一言不发地转过身去，大步流星地离开了我。

我头晕眼花，脚步不稳地走进体育馆。我游魂似的走进更衣室，在神思恍惚中换了衣服，只能模糊地意识到我周围还有别的人。直到我拿起球拍，真实感才完全回到了我的神智中。球拍不算很沉，但在我手里显得很不安全。我能看到班里的一些别的孩子在偷偷地瞄着我。克拉普教练让我们自己组队。

所幸迈克身上残余的骑士精神还在，他走过来站到了我旁边。

“你愿意和我一队吗？”

“谢谢，迈克——你真的不必这样做的，你知道。”我充满歉意地做了个鬼脸。

“别担心，我会离你远远的。”他咧嘴一笑。有时候喜欢上迈克是件很容易的事。

情况没那么顺利。我在原因不明的情况下成功地击中了自己的头部，而且在同一次挥拍打中了迈克的肩膀。这个小时剩下的时间里，我始终待在庭院的后角里，球拍被安全地握在了我的背后。尽管由于我的存在而有些吃亏，但迈克还是干得很漂亮：他独力赢得了四场比赛里的三场。当克拉普教练最终吹响了哨子，宣布下课时，他让我不劳而获地拿到了五分的高分。

“那么，”当我们一起走出庭院时，他说道。

“那么什么？”

“你和卡伦，哈？”他问道，他的语气里带着反抗的意味。我早先的喜爱的感觉荡然无存了。

“这跟你没关系，迈克。”我警告道，心里诅咒着杰西卡下十八层地狱。

“我不喜欢这样。”无论如何他还是抱怨着说了出来。

“你不必喜欢。”我嚷嚷着。

“他看着你的眼神就像是……就像你是一份大餐一样。”他不理会我，继续说道。

我噎住了一阵威胁着要爆发出来的竭斯底里，但一阵轻微的咯咯声依然无视我的努力逃逸出来。他怒视着我。我向他挥了挥手，逃进了更衣室。

我飞快地换上衣服，某种比蝴蝶更加有力的东西在不顾一切地猛击着我的胃壁，（惴惴不安着，胃里一阵阵地翻腾）我和迈克的争论已经成为了久远的回忆。我想知道爱德华是否在等着，又或者我得在他的车那里和他碰头。如果他的家人也在那里，我该怎么办？我感到一阵真切的恐惧。他们知道我知道了吗？又或者，我能获准知道他们知道我知道了吗？

当我走出体育馆的时候，我几乎决定好要直接走回家，甚至不敢看一眼停车场。但我的担心是多余的。爱德华正等着我，他若无其事地靠在了体育馆的外墙上，他绝美的脸上现在没有半点忧虑。当我向他走去的时候，我感到了一种奇特的被赦免的感觉。

“嗨。”我喘息着说，露出大大的微笑。

“哈罗。”他回答着，笑容明朗。“体育课怎么样？”

我的脸稍稍塌了下来。“很好。”我撒谎道。

“真的？”他很是怀疑。他的眼睛微微地聚焦着，越过我的肩膀向后看去，然后眯缝起来。我向后瞄了一眼，只看见了迈克离开的背影。

“什么？”我诘问道。

他的目光落回了我身上，依然紧绷着。“牛顿正让我心烦。”

“你不是又在听了吧？”我一阵惶恐。我突如其来的好心情全部归零了。

“你的头怎么样了？”他天真无邪地问道。  

“你简直让人难以置信！”我转过身，重重地踏着步子向停车场的大致方向走去，虽然此刻我还没排除走回去的可能性。

他轻而易举地跟上了我。

“是你自己一直在强调我没见过你在体育课上的样子——这让我很好奇。”他听起来毫无悔改之意，所以我无视他。

我们沉默地走着——在我看来，是一种狂怒的，窘迫的沉默——向他的车走去。但我不得不停在了几英尺外-——一群人，全是男生，正围着它。

然后我意识到他们并不是在围着那辆沃尔沃，事实上他们在围观罗莎莉的红色敞篷车，他们的眼里明明白白地写着渴望。当爱德华走到他们中间打开自己的车门时，他们甚至没有一个人抬起头来。我飞快地爬进乘客座，同样不受注目。

“太浮夸了。”他喃喃自语道。

“这是什么车？”我问道。

“一辆M3。”

“我不会说《汽车与驾驶》里的专有名词。”

“那是一辆宝马。”他转了转眼睛，不去看我，努力在不碾上那群狂热的汽车爱好者的情况下把车倒出去。

我点了点头——我听说过这个牌子。

“你还在生气吗？”当他小心地把车开出去的时候，他问道。

“相当肯定。”

他叹了口气。“如果我道歉的话，你会原谅我吗？”

“也许会……如果你是诚心诚意的话。而且你还得保证再也不这样做。”我坚持着。

他的眼神忽然精明起来。“我是诚心诚意的，而且我同意让你周六开车，这个怎么样？”他驳回了我的附加条件。

我思考着，然后确定这也许是我能争取到的最高出价。“成交。”我同意了。

“那么，我很抱歉，我惹你生气了。”他的眼里燃烧着真诚的火焰，灼烧了许久——严重破坏了我心跳的节奏——然后变成了打趣的眼神。“而晴朗的周六那天，一大早我就会站在你家的门阶上。”

“呃，如果一辆不请自来的沃尔沃停在车道上，对查理的情形不会有任何帮助的。”

现在他的笑容谦逊起来：“我没打算开车过去。”

“怎么——”

他打断了我的话。“不必担心这个，我会在那儿的，不会开车来的。”

我丢下了这个话题。我有一个更重要的问题要问。

“这就是那个下次吗？”我意味深长地问道。

他皱起眉：“我猜它是下次。”

我维持着彬彬有礼的表情，等待着。

他把车停了下来。我惊讶地抬起头——当然，我们已经到查理家了，正停在那辆卡车后面。如果我一心只留意着何时结束的话，和他一起坐车会更容易些。当我回头看向他时，他正注视着我，用眼神衡量着我。

“你还是想要知道为什么你不能去看我狩猎吗？”他一本正经地说着，但我想我看到他眼里有一丝打趣的痕迹。

“好吧，”我澄清道。“我最好奇的是你的反应。”

“我吓着你了？”没错，他眼里的打趣显而易见。

“没有。”我撒谎道。他没买我的账。

“我为吓着你而道歉。”他固执地维持着一抹浅笑，但随后，所有嘲弄的迹象都消失了。“那确实是想到你在那里……在我们打猎时的反应。”他的下颚一紧。

“那会很糟吗？”

他从咬紧的牙缝里挤出几个字。“极其糟糕”

“因为……？”

他深吸了一口气，向挡风玻璃外看去，注视着那片涌动着的浓云，它似乎要压下来了，几近伸手可及。

“当我们狩猎的时候，”他极慢地，很不情愿地说道。“我们会凭自己的感觉行事……几乎不受自己的意志控制，尤其依赖于我们的嗅觉。如果在我那样失控的时候，你在我周围的任何地方……”他摇了摇头，依然忧郁地注视着那片厚重的云层。

我意志坚定地控制着自己的表情，希望他的眼神能紧接着掠过来，鉴定我的反应。我的脸没有泄露任何信息。  

但是我们的眼睛僵持着，而沉默加剧了——而且改变了。今天下午我感觉到的摇曳不定的电流开始掌控了气氛，而他毫不松懈地凝视着我的眼睛。直到我的头开始发晕，我才意识到自己没在呼吸。当我晕乎乎地深吸了一口气，打破了沉默时，他闭上了眼睛。

“贝拉，我想你现在应该进屋去了。”他低沉的声音沙哑着，他又开始看那些云了。

我打开门，一阵极寒的冷风涌进车里，让我的脑子清醒起来。我生怕自己会在这种头晕眼花的状态中被绊倒，于是小心翼翼地走出车外，头也不回地关上了身后的门。电动车窗降下来的呼呼声让我回过身去。

“哦，贝拉？”他在我后面喊着，他的声音更平和些了。他向打开的车窗倚过来，唇上挂着一抹浅笑。

“怎么了？”

“明天轮到我了。”

“轮到你什么？”

他笑得更开怀了，露出闪闪发亮的皓齿：“提问。”

然后他走了，车子加速开进了街道，消失在拐角处，而我还没来得及理清自己的思绪。我微笑着，向屋子走去。这表明他计划明天和我见面，如果没有意外的话。

和往常一样，这天晚上爱德华在我的梦里担纲主演。但是，我潜意识里的气候改变了，那里颤栗着闪过掌控了整个下午的电流，而我不得安宁地辗转反侧，夜里醒来了很多次。直到凌晨的那几个小时我才最终精疲力竭地陷入了无梦的睡眠。

当我醒来的时候，我依然很疲倦，但也很心急。我穿上一件棕色的高领毛衣，还有那条不可避免的牛仔裤。当我白日做梦地幻想着低胸细肩带上衣和热裤时，我不由得叹了口气。早餐和往常一样，平静祥和得如我所愿。查理给自己煎了份鸡蛋，我吃了一碗麦片粥。我怀疑他是否已经忘了这周六的事。当他站起来，把盘子拿去水池的时候，他回答了我没说出口的疑问。

“关于这周六……”他开口了，一边说着一边穿过厨房，打开水龙头。

我讨好地说：“怎么了，爸爸？”

“你还是要去西雅图吗？”他问道。

“计划是这样。”我扮了个鬼脸，希望他不要再提起这个话题，这样我就不必小心地编排一些半真半假的话。

他挤了一些洗洁精到盘子上，用刷子来回地擦洗着。“你确定不会在舞会开始前回来吗？”

“我不打算去舞会，爸爸。”我干瞪着眼。

“难道没有人邀请你吗？”他问道，试图隐藏起自己的关心，专心擦洗盘子。

我避开了这个雷区。“这是一次女生择伴舞会。”

“哦。”他一边皱起眉，一边把盘子擦干。

我开始有点同情他了。对一个父亲来说，这实在是件难事，活在这样或那样的忧虑里，生怕自己的女儿会遇上她喜欢的男孩，但又得操心万一她遇不上该怎么办。我一想到，如果查理知道，哪怕是得到最轻微的暗示，我确切喜欢着的是什么人的话，不禁打了个冷战。

然后，查理挥手道别，离开了。我走上楼去刷牙，把书收拾好。当我听到巡逻车开走的声音时，我只等了几秒钟，便迫不及待地跑过去向窗外偷看。那辆银色的车已经在那里了，就在车道上查理的位置那儿等着。我跳着下了楼，奔出前门，想知道这样不同寻常的例行公事般的日子能够持续多久。我永远都不想让它结束。    

他在车里等着，当我关上门，懒得锁上那个该死的门闩的时候，他似乎没在看我。我走向车子，在开门上车以前羞涩地停住了。他微笑着，很放松——还有，像往常一样，完美和出色得到了折磨人的地步。

“早上好。”他的声音如丝绸一样柔软。“今天感觉怎么样？”他的目光在我的脸上徘徊着，仿佛他的提问比起单纯的礼节有着更深的意味。

“很好，谢谢。”当我和他在一起时，我总是很好——甚至比好更好。

他的目光落在了我眼睛底下的黑眼圈上。“你看上去很疲倦。”

“我睡不着。”我坦白交代，下意识地把头发拨到肩后，作为某种程度上的掩饰。

“我也是。”他揶揄着，发动了引擎。我开始习惯这种安静的嗡嗡声了。我敢肯定，无论何时我再去开我那辆卡车，它的轰鸣声都会吓着我的。

我大笑起来：“我猜想也是。我估计我只比你多睡了一点点。”

“我敢打赌你确实如此。”

“那么，你昨晚做了什么？”我问道。

他轻笑起来：“你没机会了。今天可是我提问的日子。”

“哦，没错。你想知道什么？”我的额头皱了起来。我想象不出自己有什么能引起他的兴趣。

“你最喜欢的颜色是？”他问道，表情很认真。

我转了转眼睛：“每天都不一样。”

“你今天最喜欢的颜色是？”他依然郑重其事地问道。

“大概是棕色。”我向来根据自己的心情来穿衣服。

他哼了一声，终于丢下了一本正经的表情。“棕色？”他怀疑地问道。

“没错。棕色很温暖。我想念棕色。所有应该是棕色的东西——树干，岩石，泥土——在这里都被软塌塌的绿色覆盖住了。”我抱怨道。

他似乎对我激昂的演说很是着迷。他想了一会儿，然后看进了我的眼睛里。

“你是对的。”他决断道，又严肃了起来。“棕色很温暖。”他敏捷地伸出手，但不知怎的，还是迟疑着，把我的头发拂回我的肩后。

就在这时，我们到学校了。当他把车开进一个停车位的时候，他回过头来看着我。

“你的随身听里现在放着的是什么音乐？”他问道，他阴沉着脸，就好像在要求一个凶杀案的口供一样。

我意识到自己还没把菲尔给我的那张CD拿出来。当我说出那个乐队的名字的时候，他嘴角弯弯地笑了，眼里有着一种奇特的神情。他弹开了他的车载随身听下面的一个小隔间，在塞满了那个小空间的三十张或者更多的CD里抽了一张出来，递给我。

“这张德彪西怎么样？”他挑起一侧眉头。

是上次那张CD。我垂下眼帘，仔细看着那个熟悉的封面图案。

这一天就这样过去了。当他陪我走向英语课教室的时候，当他在西班牙语课后和我碰头的时候，整个午餐时间，他都在无情地审问着我，了解我生活里的每一个无关紧要的细节。我喜欢的和讨厌的电影，我去过的屈指可数的几个地方，我想去的许多地方，还有书——无尽的关于书的问题。

我想不起来自己上次说这么的话是什么时候的事了。我有自知之明，我敢肯定我一定让他感到厌烦了。但他脸上全神贯注的神情，还有他连珠炮似的永不止息的提问，迫使我继续下去。他大多数的问题都很容易回答，只有少数几个会让我不禁脸红起来。但当我真的脸红起来的时候，又会导致新的一轮的提问。

比方说，他问我最喜欢的珠宝的那次，我红着脸不假思索地说出了黄水晶。他用这样的速度滔滔不绝地提问，让我觉得自己像是在做某种心理测试，就是要求你的答案必须是第一时间想到的那个词的那种。我敢肯定，他会根据脑海里的问题清单不停地问下去，除非是我脸红了。而我脸红则是因为，直到最近，我最喜欢的珠宝还是石榴石。只要注视着他黄水晶一样的眼眸，我就不可能想不起转变的理由。而很自然地，他会不停地发问直到我坦白交代我为什么会局促不安为止。

“告诉我。”在说服以失败告知后，他最终命令道——会失败仅仅是因为我让目光安全地远离他的脸。

“那是今天你的眼睛的颜色。”我叹息着，投降了。我把玩着自己的一缕头发，眼睛盯着自己的手看。“我猜要是你两个星期以后问我的话，我会说是黑玛瑙。”出于我并不情愿的诚实，我给出了更多的信息，尽管这毫无必要。而且我开始担心这会不会引爆他那奇怪的怒火，每当我不小心透露得太多自己是如此的着迷时，他都会这样。

但他只停顿了很短的时间。

“你喜欢什么花？”他又开始一连串的提问了。

我宽慰地松了口气，然后继续接受他的心理分析。  

生物课又一次变得复杂起来。爱德华继续着他的随堂口试，直到班纳老师走进教室，又把那个视听教学箱拖进来为止。当老师走过去把灯关掉的时候，我注意到爱德华稍稍把椅子向我挪开了一点。这没用。当教室暗下来的时候，和昨天一样，那种电流又开始闪动着火光，那种永不止息的渴望又在敦促着我的手伸过那段短短的距离，触碰他冰冷的肌肤。

我向桌子倾下身去，把下颚放在交叠的小臂上，我隐藏起来的手指紧紧地抓住桌子的边缘。我挣扎着不去理会那股试图让我动摇的不合情理的渴望。我不敢看他，生怕他也在看着我，这只会让自我控制变得更难些。我由衷地想要看这部电影，但直到这堂课结束我还是不知道我刚刚看的是什么内容。当班纳老师把灯打开的时候，我宽慰地叹了口气，终于看了一眼爱德华。他正看着我，眼里写满了矛盾。

他默默地站起身，一动不动地站在那里，等着我。我们沉默着向体育馆走去，和昨天完全一样。然后，还是和昨天一样，他无言地轻抚我的脸庞——这次是用他冰冷的手背，从我的一侧眉毛一直抚摸到我的下颌——在他转身走开以前。

体育课在我观看迈克的羽毛球个人秀中很快就过去了。他今天没有跟我说话，也没有对我空白的表情作出任何反应，也许他还在为我们昨天的口角生着闷气。在我心底一角的某处，我对此感觉很糟。但我没法把注意力集中在他身上。

之后，我不安地赶去换衣服，知道我的动作越快，我就能越早和爱德华待在一起。这种压迫感使得我比平时还有笨手笨脚，但最终我冲出门口，和上次一样宽慰地看到他站在那里，一个大大的笑容下意识地浮现在我脸上。作为回应，他微笑起来，然后开始新一轮狂热的交互讯问。

不过，他现在的问题变得不一样了，不再那么容易回答了。他想知道我想念着家里的什么事物，坚持要我描述出任何他不熟悉的部分。我们坐在查理的房子前，坐了好几个小时，直到天黑下来，骤然泛滥的雨水笔直地落在我们周围。

我试图描述出一些根本没法形容的食物，像是木馏油的香味——发苦的，有点像树脂，但还是很亲切——七月里尖锐凄厉的蝉鸣，柔软如鸿毛的无叶树（仙人掌），广阔无垠的天空，那种发白的蓝色从一侧的地平线一直延伸到另一侧的地平线，极少被覆满了紫色火山岩的低矮的山丘阻断。最难解释的事情是为什么我会觉得它们如此美丽——定义一种并非基于稀稀落落的，多刺的，经常看上去半死不活的植被的美丽，一种与大地裸路的形状，与崎岖的山谷间浅浅的有如碗状的山谷，与他们在太阳底下绵延的方式毫无关系的美丽。当我努力向他解释时，我发现自己常常得用上手势。

他安静的，尖锐的提问让我自由自在地说着话，在暴风雨中微弱的光线里，完全忘记了要为自己垄断了所有的对话而窘迫不安。最终，当我描述完我在家里的那个乱糟糟的房间以后，他停了下来，没有再提出下一个问题。

“你问完了？”我如释重负地问道。

“差远了——但你爸爸很快就要到家了。”  

“查理！”我忽然意识到他的存在，然后叹了口气。我看着车外阴雨绵绵的天空，但它没有泄露任何信息。“现在多晚了？”我一边大声问道，一边瞥了一眼时钟。我震惊地看到已经是这个时候了——查理现在已经在开车回家的路上了。

“现在正是暮色时分。”（It’s twilight。。。）爱德华喃喃低语着，看着西边的地平线，那里被云层覆盖着，晦明不定。他的声音显得心事重重，仿佛他的思绪正在千里之外。我看着他，他向挡风玻璃外看去，却根本不在看任何东西。

我一直注视着他，直到他的目光忽然转回来，对上了我的眼睛。

“对我们来说，这是一天之中最安全的时候。”他说道，回答了我眼中未说出口的疑问。“最容易的时刻。但从某种意义上说，也是最伤感的……又一天的结束，夜晚再度降临。黑暗如此容易预测，你不这样认为吗？”他想望地微笑着。

“我喜欢夜晚。没有黑暗，我们就永远看不到星辰了。”我皱起眉。“不过在这里很难看到星星。”

他大笑着，气氛骤然轻松起来。

“查理还有几分钟就要到这儿了。那么，除非你想告诉他周六你会和我一起……”他挑起一侧眉头。

“谢谢，但不必了，谢谢。”我把书收起来，意识到自己因为坐得太久已经有些僵直了。“那么，明天轮到我了？”

“当然不是。”他脸上写满了恼人的愤愤不平。“我告诉过你我还没问完，不是吗？”

“还有什么？”

“明天你就知道了。”他伸出手要替我开门，而他的突然接近让我的心陷入了疯狂的悸动。

“这可不太好。”他喃喃自语道。

“那是什么？”我惊讶地看到，他的下巴绷紧了，眼里写满了困扰。

他只看了我短短的一秒钟。“另一个复杂的情形。”他闷闷不乐地说道。

他动作迅速地把门推开，然后移开身子，几乎是退缩着，飞快地远离我。

汽车前灯的光穿透过雨幕吸引了我的注意，一辆黑色的车子向着我们开过来，只有几英尺远了。

“查理就要来了。”他警告道，透过倾盆大雨注视着那辆车。

我立刻跳下车，无暇顾及自己的混乱和好奇。雨水掠过我的夹克，声音愈发响亮了。

我试图认出坐在那辆车的前座里的人，但天太黑了。我看见爱德华被那辆新来的车的前灯怒视着，全身都被照亮了。他依然注视着前方，他的目光紧锁在我看不见的某物或某人上。他的神情非常古怪，混合着挫败与挑衅。

然后他发动了引擎，轮胎蹭着潮湿的公路发出尖锐的声音。几秒种后那辆沃尔沃就看不见了。

“嘿，贝拉。”一个熟悉的，沙哑的声音从那辆黑色的小车里的驾驶座上传出来。

“雅克布？”我问道，眯着眼透过雨幕看去。就在这时，查理的巡逻车开过了拐角，他的车灯照亮了我面前那辆车里的人。

雅克布正要爬出来，他的咧嘴大笑即使在黑暗中也清晰可见。坐在乘客座上的是一个更老一些的男人，体格健壮，有一张令人难忘的脸——一张太过宽大的脸，脸颊紧贴着他的肩膀，黄褐色的皮肤上千沟万壑，像一件古旧的皮夹克。而那双熟悉得惊人的眼睛，那双黑眼睛安放在这张大脸上，在显得太过年轻的同时，又显得太过沧桑了。雅克布的爸爸，比利.布莱克。我立刻认出了他，尽管我上一次见到他是五年多以前的事了。我第一天来这里，查理向我提起他的时候，我甚至已经忘了他的名字。他注视着我，仔细审视着我的脸，所以我试探性地向他笑了笑。他的眼睛睁大了，不知道是出于惊讶还是出于害怕，他的鼻孔张大了。我的笑容立刻消失了。  

另一个复杂的情形，爱德华说过。

比利依然用紧张焦虑的眼神注视着我。我在心里叹息着。比利这么快就认出爱德华来了吗？他真的相信他儿子嘲笑过的那些不可能的传说吗？

答案清晰地写在比利眼中。是的，是的，他相信。
11. COMPLICATIONS




Everyone watched us as we walked together to our lab table. I noticed
that he no longer angled the chair to sit as far from me as the desk
would allow. Instead, he sat quite close beside me, our arms almost
touching.

Mr. Banner backed into the room then — what superb timing the man had —
pulling a tall metal frame on wheels that held a heavy-looking, outdated
TV and VCR. A movie day — the lift in the class atmosphere was almost
tangible.

Mr. Banner shoved the tape into the reluctant VCR and walked to the wall
to turn off the lights.

And then, as the room went black, I was suddenly hyperaware that Edward
was sitting less than an inch from me. I was stunned by the unexpected

electricity that flowed through me, amazed that it was possible to be
more aware of him than I already was. A crazy impulse to reach over and
touch him, to stroke his perfect face just once in the darkness, nearly
overwhelmed me. I crossed my arms tightly across my chest, my hands
balling into fists. I was losing my mind.

The opening credits began, lighting the room by a token amount. My eyes,
of their own accord, flickered to him. I smiled sheepishly as I realized
his posture was identical to mine, fists clenched under his arms, right
down to the eyes, peering sideways at me. He grinned back, his eyes
somehow managing to smolder, even in the dark. I looked away before I
could start hyperventilating. It was absolutely ridiculous that I should
feel dizzy.

The hour seemed very long. I couldn't concentrate on the movie — I didn't
even know what subject it was on. I tried unsuccessfully to relax, but
the electric current that seemed to be originating from somewhere in his
body never slackened. Occasionally I would permit myself a quick glance
in his direction, but he never seemed to relax, either. The overpowering
craving to touch him also refused to fade, and I crushed my fists safely
against my ribs until my fingers were aching with the effort.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Banner flicked the lights back on at
the end of class, and stretched my arms out in front of me, flexing my
stiff fingers. Edward chuckled beside me.

"Well, that was interesting," he murmured. His voice was dark and his
eyes were cautious.

"Umm," was all I was able to respond.

"Shall we?" he asked, rising fluidly.

I almost groaned. Time for Gym. I stood with care, worried my balance
might have been affected by the strange new intensity between us.

He walked me to my next class in silence and paused at the door; I turned
to say goodbye. His face startled me — his expression was torn, almost
pained, and so fiercely beautiful that the ache to touch him flared as
strong as before. My goodbye stuck in my throat.

He raised his hand, hesitant, conflict raging in his eyes, and then
swiftly brushed the length of my cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin
was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on my skin was
alarmingly warm — like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it
yet.

He turned without a word and strode quickly away from me.

I walked into the gym, lightheaded and wobbly. I drifted to the locker
room, changing in a trancelike state, only vaguely aware that there were
other people surrounding me. Reality didn't fully set in until I was
handed a racket. It wasn't heavy, yet it felt very unsafe in my hand. I
could see a few of the other kids in class eyeing me furtively. Coach
Clapp ordered us to pair up into teams.

Mercifully, some vestiges of Mike's chivalry still survived; he came to
stand beside me.

"Do you want to be a team?"

"Thanks, Mike — you don't have to do this, you know." I grimaced
apologetically.

"Don't worry, I'll keep out of your way." He grinned. Sometimes it was so
easy to like Mike.

It didn't go smoothly. I somehow managed to hit myself in the head with
my racket and clip Mike's shoulder on the same swing. I spent the rest of
the hour in the back corner of the court, the racket held safely behind
my back. Despite being handicapped by me, Mike was pretty good; he won
three games out of four singlehandedly. He gave me an unearned high five

when the coach finally blew the whistle ending class.

"So," he said as we walked off the court.

"So what?"

"You and Cullen, huh?" he asked, his tone rebellious. My previous feeling
of affection disappeared.

"That's none of your business, Mike," I warned, internally cursing
Jessica straight to the fiery pits of Hades.

"I don't like it," he muttered anyway.

"You don't have to," I snapped.

"He looks at you like… like you're something to eat," he continued,
ignoring me.

I choked back the hysteria that threatened to explode, but a small giggle
managed to get out despite my efforts. He glowered at me. I waved and
fled to the locker room.

I dressed quickly, something stronger than butterflies battering
recklessly against the walls of my stomach, my argument with Mike already
a distant memory. I was wondering if Edward would be waiting, or if I
should meet him at his car. What if his family was there? I felt a wave
of real terror. Did they know that I knew? Was I supposed to know that
they knew that I knew, or not?

By the time I walked out of the gym, I had just about decided to walk
straight home without even looking toward the parking lot. But my worries
were unnecessary. Edward was waiting, leaning casually against the side
of the gym, his breathtaking face untroubled now. As I walked to his
side, I felt a peculiar sense of release.

"Hi," I breathed, smiling hugely.

"Hello." His answering smile was brilliant. "How was Gym?"

My face fell a tiny bit. "Fine," I lied.

"Really?" He was unconvinced. His eyes shifted their focus slightly,
looking over my shoulder and narrowing. I glanced behind me to see Mike's
back as he walked away.

"What?" I demanded.

His eyes slid back to mine, still tight. "Newton's getting on my nerves."

"You weren't listening again?" I was horror-struck. All traces of my
sudden good humor vanished.

"How's your head?" he asked innocently.

"You're unbelievable!" I turned, stomping away in the general direction
of the parking lot, though I hadn't ruled out walking at this point.

He kept up with me easily.

"You were the one who mentioned how I'd never seen you in Gym — it made
me curious." He didn't sound repentant, so I ignored him.

We walked in silence — a furious, embarrassed silence on my part — to his
car. But I had to stop a few steps away — a crowd of people, all boys,
were surrounding it.

Then I realized they weren't surrounding the Volvo, they were actually
circled around Rosalie's red convertible, unmistakable lust in their
eyes. None of them even looked up as Edward slid between them to open his
door. I climbed quickly in the passenger side, also unnoticed.

"Ostentatious," he muttered.

"What kind of car is that?" I asked.

"An M3."

"I don't speak Car and Driver."

"It's a BMW." He rolled his eyes, not looking at me, trying to back out
without running over the car enthusiasts.

I nodded — I'd heard of that one.

"Are you still angry?" he asked as he carefully maneuvered his way out.

"Definitely."

He sighed. "Will you forgive me if I apologize?"

"Maybe… if you mean it. And if you promise not to do it again," I
insisted.

His eyes were suddenly shrewd. "How about if I mean it, and I agree to
let you drive Saturday?" he countered my conditions.

I considered, and decided it was probably the best offer I would get.
"Deal," I agreed.

"Then I'm very sorry I upset you." His eyes burned with sincerity for a
protracted moment — playing havoc with the rhythm of my heart — and then
turned playful. "And I'll be on your doorstep bright and early Saturday
morning."

"Um, it doesn't help with the Charlie situation if an unexplained Volvo
is left in the driveway."

His smile was condescending now. "I wasn't intending to bring a car."

"How —"

He cut me off. "Don't worry about it. I'll be there, no car."

I let it go. I had a more pressing question.

"Is it later yet?" I asked significantly.

He frowned. "I supposed it is later."

I kept my expression polite as I waited.

He stopped the car. I looked up, surprised — of course we were already at
Charlie's house, parked behind the truck. It was easier to ride with him
if I only looked when it was over. When I looked back at him, he was
staring at me, measuring with his eyes.

"And you still want to know why you can't see me hunt?" He seemed solemn,
but I thought I saw a trace of humor deep in his eyes.

"Well," I clarified, "I was mostly wondering about your reaction."

"Did I frighten you?" Yes, there was definitely humor there.

"No," I lied. He didn't buy it.

"I apologize for scaring you," he persisted with a slight smile, but then
all evidence of teasing disappeared. "It was just the very thought of you
being there… while we hunted." His jaw tightened.

"That would be bad?"

He spoke from between clenched teeth. "Extremely."

"Because… ?"

He took a deep breath and stared through the windshield at the thick,
rolling clouds that seemed to press down, almost within reach.

"When we hunt," he spoke slowly, unwillingly, "we give ourselves over to
our senses… govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If
you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way…" He shook his
head, still gazing morosely at the heavy clouds.

I kept my expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of
his eyes to judge my reaction that soon followed. My face gave nothing
away.

But our eyes held, and the silence deepened — and changed. Flickers of
the electricity I'd felt this afternoon began to charge the atmosphere as
he gazed unrelentingly into my eyes. It wasn't until my head started to
swim that I realized I wasn't breathing. When I drew in a jagged breath,
breaking the stillness, he closed his eyes.

"Bella, I think you should go inside now." His low voice was rough, his
eyes on the clouds again.

I opened the door, and the arctic draft that burst into the car helped
clear my head. Afraid I might stumble in my woozy state, I stepped
carefully out of the car and shut the door behind me without looking
back. The whir of the automatic window unrolling made me turn.

"Oh, Bella?" he called after me, his voice more even. He leaned toward
the open window with a faint smile on his lips.

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow it's my turn."

"Your turn to what?"

He smiled wider, flashing his gleaming teeth. "Ask the questions."

And then he was gone, the car speeding down the street and disappearing
around the corner before I could even collect my thoughts. I smiled as I
walked to the house. It was clear he was planning to see me tomorrow, if
nothing else.

That night Edward starred in my dreams, as usual. However, the climate of
my unconsciousness had changed. It thrilled with the same electricity
that had charged the afternoon, and I tossed and turned restlessly,
waking often. It was only in the early hours of the morning that I
finally sank into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

When I woke I was still tired, but edgy as well. I pulled on my brown
turtleneck and the inescapable jeans, sighing as I daydreamed of
spaghetti straps and shorts. Breakfast was the usual, quiet event I
expected. Charlie fried eggs for himself; I had my bowl of cereal. I
wondered if he had forgotten about this Saturday. He answered my unspoken
question as he stood up to take his plate to the sink.

"About this Saturday…" he began, walking across the kitchen and turning
on the faucet.

I cringed. "Yes, Dad?"

"Are you still set on going to Seattle?" he asked.

"That was the plan." I grimaced, wishing he hadn't brought it up so I
wouldn't have to compose careful half-truths.

He squeezed some dish soap onto his plate and swirled it around with the
brush. "And you're sure you can't make it back in time for the dance?"

"I'm not going to the dance, Dad." I glared.

"Didn't anyone ask you?" he asked, trying to hide his concern by focusing
on rinsing the plate.

I sidestepped the minefield. "It's a girl's choice."

"Oh." He frowned as he dried his plate.

I sympathized with him. It must be a hard thing, to be a father; living
in fear that your daughter would meet a boy she liked, but also having to
worry if she didn't. How ghastly it would be, I thought, shuddering, if
Charlie had even the slightest inkling of exactly what I did like.

Charlie left then, with a goodbye wave, and I went upstairs to brush my
teeth and gather my books. When I heard the cruiser pull away, I could
only wait a few seconds before I had to peek out of my window. The silver
car was already there, waiting in Charlie's spot on the driveway. I
bounded down the stairs and out the front door, wondering how long this
bizarre routine would continue. I never wanted it to end.

He waited in the car, not appearing to watch as I shut the door behind me
without bothering to lock the dead-bolt. I walked to the car, pausing
shyly before opening the door and stepping in. He was smiling, relaxed —
and, as usual, perfect and beautiful to an excruciating degree.

"Good morning." His voice was silky. "How are you today?" His eyes roamed
over my face, as if his question was something more than simple courtesy.

"Good, thank you." I was always good — much more than good — when I was
near him.

His gaze lingered on the circles under my eyes. "You look tired."

"I couldn't sleep," I confessed, automatically swinging my hair around my
shoulder to provide some measure of cover.

"Neither could I," he teased as he started the engine. I was becoming
used to the quiet purr. I was sure the roar of my truck would scare me,
whenever I got to drive it again.

I laughed. "I guess that's right. I suppose I slept just a little bit
more than you did."

"I'd wager you did."

"So what did you do last night?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Not a chance. It's my day to ask questions."

"Oh, that's right. What do you want to know?" My forehead creased. I
couldn't imagine anything about me that could be in any way interesting
to him.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked, his face grave.

I rolled my eyes. "It changes from day to day."

"What's your favorite color today?" He was still solemn.

"Probably brown." I tended to dress according to my mood.

He snorted, dropping his serious expression. "Brown?" he asked
skeptically.

"Sure. Brown is warm. I miss brown. Everything that's supposed to be
brown — tree trunks, rocks, dirt — is all covered up with squashy green
stuff here," I complained.

He seemed fascinated by my little rant. He considered for a moment,
staring into my eyes.

"You're right," he decided, serious again. "Brown is warm." He reached
over, swiftly, but somehow still hesitantly, to sweep my hair back behind

my shoulder.

We were at the school by now. He turned back to me as he pulled into a
parking space.

"What music is in your CD player right now?" he asked, his face as somber
as if he'd asked for a murder confession.

I realized I'd never removed the CD Phil had given me. When I said the
name of the band, he smiled crookedly, a peculiar expression in his eyes.
He flipped open a compartment under his car's CD player, pulled out one
of thirty or so CDs that were jammed into the small space, and handed it
to me,

"Debussy to this?" He raised an eyebrow.

It was the same CD. I examined the familiar cover art, keeping my eyes
down.

It continued like that for the rest of the day. While he walked me to
English, when he met me after Spanish, all through the lunch hour, he
questioned me relentlessly about every insignificant detail of my
existence. Movies I'd liked and hated, the few places I'd been and the
many places I wanted to go, and books — endlessly books.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked so much. More often than
not, I felt self-conscious, certain I must be boring him. But the
absolute absorption of his face, and his never-ending stream of
questions, compelled me to continue. Mostly his questions were easy, only
a very few triggering my easy blushes. But when I did flush, it brought
on a whole new round of questions.

Such as the time he asked my favorite gemstone, and I blurted out topaz
before thinking. He'd been flinging questions at me with such speed that
I felt like I was taking one of those psychiatric tests where you answer
with the first word that comes to mind. I was sure he would have
continued down whatever mental list he was following, except for the
blush. My face reddened because, until very recently, my favorite
gemstone was garnet. It was impossible, while staring back into his topaz
eyes, not to remember the reason for the switch. And, naturally, he
wouldn't rest until I'd admitted why I was embarrassed.

"Tell me," he finally commanded after persuasion failed — failed only
because I kept my eyes safely away from his face.

"It's the color of your eyes today," I sighed, surrendering, staring down
at my hands as I fiddled with a piece of my hair. "I suppose if you asked
me in two weeks I'd say onyx." I'd given more information than necessary
in my unwilling honesty, and I worried it would provoke the strange anger
that flared whenever I slipped and revealed too clearly how obsessed I
was.

But his pause was very short.

"What kinds of flowers do you prefer?" he fired off.

I sighed in relief, and continued with the psychoanalysis.

Biology was a complication again. Edward had continued with his quizzing
up until Mr. Banner entered the room, dragging the audiovisual frame
again. As the teacher approached the light switch, I noticed Edward slide
his chair slightly farther away from mine. It didn't help. As soon as the
room was dark, there was the same electric spark, the same restless
craving to stretch my hand across the short space and touch his cold
skin, as yesterday.

I leaned forward on the table, resting my chin on my folded arms, my
hidden fingers gripping the table's edge as I fought to ignore the
irrational longing that unsettled me. I didn't look at him, afraid that
if he was looking at me, it would only make self-control that much
harder. I sincerely tried to watch the movie, but at the end of the hour
I had no idea what I'd just seen. I sighed in relief again when Mr.

Banner turned the lights on, finally glancing at Edward; he was looking
at me, his eyes ambivalent.

He rose in silence and then stood still, waiting for me. We walked toward
the gym in silence, like yesterday. And, also like yesterday, he touched
my face wordlessly — this time with the back of his cool hand, stroking
once from my temple to my jaw — before he turned and walked away.

Gym passed quickly as I watched Mike's one-man badminton show. He didn't
speak to me today, either in response to my vacant expression or because
he was still angry about our squabble yesterday. Somewhere, in a corner
of my mind, I felt bad about that. But I couldn't concentrate on him.

I hurried to change afterward, ill at ease, knowing the faster I moved,
the sooner I would be with Edward. The pressure made me more clumsy than
usual, but eventually I made it out the door, feeling the same release
when I saw him standing there, a wide smile automatically spreading
across my face. He smiled in reaction before launching into more
cross-examination.

His questions were different now, though, not as easily answered. He
wanted to know what I missed about home, insisting on descriptions of
anything he wasn't familiar with. We sat in front of Charlie's house for
hours, as the sky darkened and rain plummeted around us in a sudden
deluge.

I tried to describe impossible things like the scent of creosote —
bitter, slightly resinous, but still pleasant — the high, keening sound
of the cicadas in July, the feathery barrenness of the trees, the very
size of the sky, extending white-blue from horizon to horizon, barely
interrupted by the low mountains covered with purple volcanic rock. The
hardest thing to explain was why it was so beautiful to me — to justify a
beauty that didn't depend on the sparse, spiny vegetation that often
looked half dead, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of
the land, with the shallow bowls of valleys between the craggy hills, and
the way they held on to the sun. I found myself using my hands as I tried
to describe it to him.

His quiet, probing questions kept me talking freely, forgetting, in the
dim light of the storm, to be embarrassed for monopolizing the
conversation. Finally, when I had finished detailing my cluttered room at
home, he paused instead of responding with another question.

"Are you finished?" I asked in relief.

"Not even close — but your father will be home soon."

"Charlie!" I suddenly recalled his existence, and sighed. I looked out at
the rain-darkened sky, but it gave nothing away. "How late is it?" I
wondered out loud as I glanced at the clock. I was surprised by the time
— Charlie would be driving home now.

"It's twilight," Edward murmured, looking at the western horizon,
obscured as it was with clouds. His voice was thoughtful, as if his mind
were somewhere far away. I stared at him as he gazed unseeingly out the
windshield.

I was still staring when his eyes suddenly shifted back to mine.

"It's the safest time of day for us," he said, answering the unspoken
question in my eyes. "The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way…
the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so
predictable, don't you think?" He smiled wistfully.

"I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars." I
frowned. "Not that you see them here much."

He laughed, and the mood abruptly lightened.

"Charlie will be here in a few minutes. So, unless you want to tell him
that you'll be with me Saturday…" He raised one eyebrow.

"Thanks, but no thanks." I gathered my books, realizing I was stiff from
sitting still so long. "So is it my turn tomorrow, then?"

"Certainly not!" His face was teasingly outraged. "I told you I wasn't
done, didn't I?"

"What more is there?"

"You'll find out tomorrow." He reached across to open my door for me, and
his sudden proximity sent my heart into frenzied palpitations.

But his hand froze on the handle.

"Not good," he muttered.

"What is it?" I was surprised to see that his jaw was clenched, his eyes
disturbed.

He glanced at me for a brief second. "Another complication," he said
glumly.

He flung the door open in one swift movement, and then moved, almost
cringed, swiftly away from me.

The flash of headlights through the rain caught my attention as a dark
car pulled up to the curb just a few feet away, facing us.

"Charlie's around the corner," he warned, staring through the downpour at
the other vehicle.

I hopped out at once, despite my confusion and curiosity. The rain was
louder as it glanced off my jacket.

I tried to make out the shapes in the front seat of the other car, but it
was too dark. I could see Edward illuminated in the glare of the new
car's headlights; he was still staring ahead, his gaze locked on
something or someone I couldn't see. His expression was a strange mix of
frustration and defiance.

Then he revved the engine, and the tires squealed against the wet
pavement. The Volvo was out of sight in seconds.

"Hey, Bella," called a familiar, husky voice from the driver's side of
the little black car.

"Jacob?" I asked, squinting through the rain. Just then, Charlie's
cruiser swung around the corner, his lights shining on the occupants of
the car in front of me.

Jacob was already climbing out, his wide grin visible even through the
darkness. In the passenger seat was a much older man, a heavyset man with
a memorable face — a face that overflowed, the cheeks resting against his
shoulders, with creases running through the russet skin like an old
leather jacket. And the surprisingly familiar eyes, black eyes that
seemed at the same time both too young and too ancient for the broad face
they were set in. Jacob's father, Billy Black. I knew him immediately,
though in the more than five years since I'd seen him last I'd managed to
forget his name when Charlie had spoken of him my first day here. He was
staring at me, scrutinizing my face, so I smiled tentatively at him. His
eyes were wide, as if in shock or fear, his nostrils flared. My smile
faded.

Another complication, Edward had said.

Billy still stared at me with intense, anxious eyes. I groaned
internally. Had Billy recognized Edward so easily? Could he really
believe the impossible legends his son had scoffed at?

The answer was clear in Billy's eyes. Yes. Yes, he could.
回复 引用 新鲜事
顶端
八爷°

ZxID：13286336

1247314鲜花 70鸡蛋

等级: 内阁元老
配偶: 四和七
离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
举报 只看该作者 10楼  发表于: 2012-08-14 0
第十章 审问
第十章 审问

早上，我的某一部分非常肯定昨晚的一切都只是一场梦，而与之辩驳实在是件非常艰难的事。逻辑并不站在我这边，或者说，常识。我抱定了自己绝对想象不出来的那个部分——比方说他的香味。我相当确定，我永远都不可能自己梦到这种事的。

窗外雾蒙蒙，阴沉沉的，实在是好极了。他今天可没有理由不来学校了。我想起来自己的夹克不在，便穿上了层层叠叠的厚衣服。这进一步证实了我的记忆是真实的。

当我下楼的时候，查理也已经走了——我的动作比我意识到的还慢。我三口就咽下了一个格兰诺拉燕麦棒，直接用一盒牛奶把它送下去，然后匆忙地奔出门外。这场雨很有希望能拖延到我找到杰西卡以后才下。

这雾大得不可思议：空气里几乎浸透了浓雾，一片模糊。雾气侵袭着我暴露在空气中的脸部和脖子的肌肤，冰冷刺骨。我迫不及待地想要钻进车里取暖。这雾太浓了，当我离车道只有几英尺远的时候，我才注意到那里有一辆银色的车。我的心砰砰直响，如小鹿乱撞，然后很快又找回了自己的节奏。

我没看见他是从哪里冒出来的，但忽然间他就在那里了，为我拉开车门。

“今天你愿意搭我的车吗？”他问道，被我的表情逗乐了。他又一次出其不意地抓到了我。他的声音里充满了不确定。他确实给了我一个选择的机会——我完全可以拒绝，而且他的一部分希望我这样做。这是一种徒劳的希望。

“是的，谢谢。”我说道，试图让自己的声音保持镇静。当我钻进温暖的车里时，我注意到他那件棕褐色的夹克正搭在乘客座的靠背上。我身后的门被关上了，然后，在短得几乎不可能的时间里，他坐到了我旁边，发动了车子。

“我带了这件夹克给你，我不希望你生病或者怎么样。”他的声音警惕着。我注意到他自己并没有穿着夹克，只穿了一件浅灰色的V领长袖恤衫。和上次一样，布料紧紧地贴着他完美的，肌肉结实的胸膛。他的脸为我能把视线从他身体上移开作出了巨大贡献。

“我没那么柔弱。”我说道，但还是把那件夹克拉到了膝上，把胳膊伸进对我来说太长的袖子里，好奇地想要知道那股香味是不是真的和我记忆中的一样美好。有过之而无不及。

“真的？”他反驳的声音太低了，我不能确定他是不是说给我听的。

我们开着车穿过覆满浓雾的街道，但总是开得太快，至少，让我感到很不自在。昨天晚上，所有的隔阂都消失了……几乎是全部。我不知道今天我们还能不能这样坦诚相待。这个想法让我舌头打结。我等着他先开口。

他转过头来，向我坏笑着。“怎么，今天没有二十个问题了吗？”

“我的问题让你困扰了吗？”我如释重负地问道。

“没有你的反应带来的多。”他看上去像是在开玩笑，但我不敢肯定。

我皱起眉：“我的反应有那么糟吗？”

“没有。这才是问题所在。你对待每件事都是那么冷淡——这太不寻常了。这让我很想知道你究竟在想些什么。”

“我通常都会告诉你我在想些什么。”

“你编辑过了。”他控诉道。

“没改动多少。”

“足够让我发疯了。”

“你不会想要听到的。”我低声说道，几近耳语。但话一说出口，我就后悔了。我声音里的痛苦非常地微弱，我只能希望他没有注意到。

他没有回答。我想知道我是不是把气氛给毁了。当我们开进学校停车场的时候，他的表情让人捉摸不透。我后知后觉地想起来了。

“你的家人在哪里？”我问道——不仅仅是因为和他独处而快乐，更多的是因为想起来他的车通常都是满的。

“他们坐罗莎莉的车。”他耸耸肩，把车停到了一辆闪闪发光的，车篷敞开着的火红色敞篷车旁。“太浮夸了，不是吗？”  

“呃，哇噢，”我喘息着说。“既然她有这辆车，为什么她还要坐你的车呢？”

“就像我说的，这样太浮夸了。我们努力保持低调。”

“你没成功。”我们一起走出车外时，我大笑着摇了摇头。我不会迟到了。他疯狂的驾驶让我提前了不少时间到学校。“如果这样更引人注目的话，为什么今天罗莎莉还要开车呢？”

“你没注意到吗？现在我把所有的规则都打破了。”他和我在车前碰头，当我们走进校园里的时候，他一直紧挨着我。我很想把这段小小的距离消灭掉，想要伸出手触碰他，但我很怕他不喜欢我这样做。

“为什么你们的车都是那样的呢？”我大声地表达了自己的疑问。“如果你们想要保持隐私的话？”

“一个嗜好。”他顽皮地笑着，承认道。“我们都喜欢开快车。”

“有道理。”我低声呢喃道。

自助餐厅的屋顶伸出的屋檐下，杰西卡在等待着。她的眼球几乎要掉出眼眶来了。在她手臂上的——上帝保佑她——是我的夹克。

“嗨，杰西卡。”当我们走到几英尺外的时候，我说道。“谢谢你还记得。”她把夹克递给我，什么也没说。

“早上好，杰西卡。”爱德华礼貌地说。他的声音是如此地让人难以抗拒，但这真的不是他的错。也许他的双眸要负上一点责任。

“唔……嗨。”她把那双大眼睛移向我，试图找回混乱的思绪。“我猜，我们三角函数课上见。”她意味深长地看了我一眼，我抑制住了一声叹息。我到底要告诉她什么呢？

“好的，待会儿见。”

她走开了，但途中停顿了两次，从肩膀上偷瞄我们。

“你准备告诉她什么？”爱德华低声说道。

“嘿，我以为你不能读我的心！”我嘘声说着。

“我确实不能。”他惊愕地说。然后，心领神会的神情点亮了他的眼睛。“但是，我能读她的心——她正等着在课堂上伏击你呢。”

我呻吟了一声，把他的夹克拉下来，递给他，穿上了我自己的夹克。他把它搭在了手臂上。

“那么，你打算告诉她什么？”

“给点提示？”我恳求道。“她想知道什么？”

他摇了摇头，坏心地咧嘴一笑：“这不公平。”

“不，你不分享你知道的内容——那才叫不公平。”

我们一边走，他一边仔细思考着。我们停在了我要上第一堂课的教室外。

“她想知道我们是不是在偷偷地约合。还有她想知道你对我的感觉。”他最终说道。

“呀。那我该怎么说？”我努力让自己的表情显得非常无辜。人们从我们身旁走过去上课，也许在盯着我们看，但我几乎没有注意到他们。

“呃。”他停下来，抓住一缕迷路的，从我脖子上的发卷里逃离出来的头发，把它缠绕回原处。我的心过度亢奋地砰砰乱跳。“我料想，你最好对第一个问题说是……如果你不介意的话——这比任何其他解释都要容易得多。”

“我不介意。”我用微弱的声音说道。

“至于另一个问题……嗯，我会自己去听答案的。”他的一侧嘴角微微扬起，露出我最喜欢那个不对称的撇嘴坏笑。我来不及稳住自己的呼吸，对那个备注作出回应。他转身走开了。

“我们午餐时见。”他从肩膀上向我喊道。三个人正要走进门的人停下来盯着我看。

我冲进教室，又羞又恼。他这个卑鄙小人。现在我更担心自己要跟杰西卡说什么了，我愤怒地把包砰地一声扔在座位上。

“早上好，贝拉。”迈克坐在我旁边的位置上招呼道。我抬起头，看见了他脸上古怪，甚至有些讨好的神情。“天使港怎么样？”

“这……”这可没办法如实汇报。“棒极了。”虽然我的情况不完全是这样。“杰西卡买了一条非常可爱的裙子。”

“她有谈到周一晚上的事吗？”他问道，他的眼睛闪闪发亮。话题居然转到了这上面，我不由得笑了起来。

“她说她过得非常愉快。”我让他放心。

“她真的这样说？”他急切地问道。

“千真万确。”

马森老师让全班都听他说话，要我们把论文交上去。英语课和goverment课都在一片模糊中过去了，我一直在担心着要怎么跟杰西卡解释，同时为爱德华是否真的会以杰西的思想为媒介听到我说的话而焦虑不安。他的小小天赋是多么的让人不便啊——当它不是用来救我的命的时候。

第二堂课结束的时候，雾已经散得差不多了，但天空依然阴沉沉的，云层低低地压在天边。我微笑地看着天空。

当然，爱德华是对的。当我走进三角函数教室的时候，杰西卡正坐在最后一排，兴奋得几乎要从座位上跳起来了。我勉强走过去坐到她旁边，努力说服自己该来的总是要来的，不如让它早些了结。
“告诉我每件事！”我还没坐下来，她就命令道。

“你想知道什么？”我不想正面回答她。

“昨晚发生了什么事？”

“他带我去吃晚餐，然后他开车送我回家。”

她瞪着我，板起的脸上写满了怀疑。“你怎么会那么快到家呢？”

“他开起车来像个疯子。那太吓人了。”我希望他能听到这句话。

“那像是个约会——你告诉他在那里和你见面吗？”

我完全没有想到这一点。“不——看到他时我吓了一跳。”

她撅起嘴，对我话里再明白不过的坦诚很是失望。

“可他今天去接你来上学了？”她试探着。

“是的——那也很让人意外。他注意到我昨晚没穿夹克。”我解释道。

“那么你们会再一起出去吗？”

“他主动提出载我去西雅图，因为他觉得那玩意儿，就是我那辆卡车，没法撑到那里——这算吗？”

“算。”她点点头。

“嗯，那，是的。”

“呜-哇-哦。”她夸张地把这个词拖成三个音节。“爱德华.卡伦。”

“我知道。”我很赞同。“哇”根本不足以概括它。

“等等！”她飞快地伸出手，掌心冲着我，就好像她在拦截车流一样。“他吻你了吗？”

“没有。”我含糊地说道。“根本没那回事。”

她看上去很失望。我敢肯定，我也是。

“你觉得星期六……？”她扬起眉毛。

“我相当怀疑。”很难掩饰我声音里的不满。

“你们都说了些什么？”她耳语道，迫切地想要知道更多详情。已经开始上课了，但温纳老师没怎么注意我们俩，教室里不止我们一对在说话。

“我不知道，杰西。说了很多话。”我对她耳语道。“我们稍微讨论了一下英语课的论文。”非常，非常少。我想他曾经提到过这个。

“求你了，贝拉，”她恳求道。“再跟我说得详细些。”

“嗯……好吧。我想到了一个。你真应该看看那个女招待是怎么向他卖弄风情的——简直太过分了。但他根本没注意到她。”让他自行理解这件事吧。

“这是个好兆头。”她点点头。“她漂亮吗？”

“非常漂亮——大概是十九岁或者二十岁的样子。”

“更好了。他一定很喜欢你。”

“我也是这样想的。但这实在很难说。他总是含糊其辞。”为着他的缘故，我叹息着，加上了这句。

“我不知道你是怎么有勇气和他独处的。”她喘息着说。

“为什么？”我震惊了，但她误解了我的反应。

“他太……吓人了。我不知道该怎么形容他。”她做了个鬼脸，大概想起了今天早上或者昨晚的事，那时候他把那种充满了压倒性的魔力的眼神施展到了她身上。

“当我在他身旁的时候，我确实很难让自己保持理性。”我坦承道。

“哦是的。他俊美得不可思议。”杰西卡耸耸肩，就像这是某种可以原谅的缺点一样。这个，在她的字典里，也许是这样。

“他不仅仅是这样。”

“真的？例如？”

我希望我能把这话说出来。这种愿望几乎和我所希望的他只是开玩笑说要偷听一样强烈。

“我没法确切地解释……但他比表面上看起来的还要让人难以置信。”一个想要做个好人的吸血鬼——他四处奔忙，去拯救别人的性命，那样他就不会是一个怪物了……我注视着教室的前方。

“这可能吗？”她咯咯地笑了起来。

我不去理会她，试图装出正在专心听温纳老师讲课的样子。

“那么，你是喜欢他的咯？”她不打算放弃。

“是的。”我简略地说道。

“我是说，你真的喜欢他？”她催促着。

“是的。”我叹息着说道，两颊飞红。我希望她没有把这个细节纳入她的思路里。

她受够了这种单音节的回答。“你有多喜欢他？”

“非常喜欢。”我向她耳语道。“比他对我的喜欢还要多。但我不知道该怎么办。”我叹息着，羞怯一阵接一阵涌上我的脸来。

然后，谢天谢地，温纳老师把杰西卡叫起来，让她回答一个问题。

整堂课她都没有机会再继续开展这个话题，当铃声响起的时候，我采取了规避话题的行动。

“英语课的时候，迈克问我你有没有提到周一晚上的事。”我告诉她。

“你一定是在开玩笑！你是怎么说的？”她渴望地喘着气说道，完全被转移了话题。

“我告诉你说你过得很开心——他看上去很高兴。”

“确切地告诉我他是怎么说的，还有你确切的回答！”

我们把走路的时间都花在了剖析句子结构上，而大部分的西班牙语课都用在了描述那一分钟里迈克的面部表情上。我本不会禁得住花那么多的时间在绘声绘色地讲述这一切上，但我不想让话题回到自己身上。

而后，铃声响了起来，提醒我们午餐时间到了。当我从座位上跳起来，粗暴地把书塞进书包里的时候，我亢奋的表情铁定向杰西卡出卖了我。

“你今天不跟我们一起坐，对吧？”她猜测着。

“我不这样想。”我不便下定论，他可能会又一次消失不见。

但就在我们的西班牙语课教室外，倚着墙的——看上去比任何人都有权利更像一位希腊神祗的——爱德华正等着我。杰西卡只看了一眼，转了转眼睛，然后速速闪人。  

“待会儿见，贝拉。”她的话里充满了浓浓的暗示。也许我得把电话的铃声关掉。

“你好。”他的声音同时充满了快乐和懊恼。显而易见，他一定偷听了。

“嗨。”

我想不出别的话可说，而他也没说话——我猜想，是为了让他等会儿的时间更显得宝贵些——所以我们一路沉默着向自助餐厅走去。和爱德华一起走在午餐时段蜂拥的人潮里很像我第一天来这里的时候，每个人都在盯着看。

他带头向排成长龙的队伍走去，还是什么也不说，但每隔几秒钟他的目光就会落在我脸上，里面有着不确定的神情。懊恼似乎压倒了快乐，成为了他脸上的主要表情。我惴惴不安地把玩着夹克上的拉锁。

他走到柜台前，拿了满满一盘食物。

“你在做什么？”我伉仪道。“你该不会全都是拿给我的吧？”

他摇摇头，走上前去交款。

“当然，有一半是我的。”

我扬起一侧眉头。

他带路向我们上次坐过的同一个地方走去。当我们面对面地坐下来时，长桌的另一头，一群学长们惊奇地注视我们。爱德华似乎根本没注意到。

“想吃什么，随便拿。”他说着，把那盘食物推向我。

“我很好奇。”我说着，拿起了一个苹果，让它在我手里转着圈。“如果别人问你敢不敢吃食物，你会怎么办？”

“你总是很好奇。”他扮了个鬼脸，摇了摇头。他注视着我，抓住了我的目光，然后从盘子里拿起一片披萨，故意咬了一大口，很快地咀嚼了几下，然后咽下去。我看着这一切，不由得瞪大了眼睛。

“如果有人问你敢不敢吃土，你也会吃的，对吧？”他谦逊地问道。

我皱起了鼻子。“我吃过一次……在一次‘敢不敢’大冒险的时候。”我承认道。“味道没那么糟。”

他大笑起来：“我猜我不会惊讶的。”我背后的某些事物吸引了他的注意力。

“杰西卡正在分析我的一举一动——稍后她会为你一一分解的。”他把剩下的披萨推给我。提到杰西卡像是一种暗示，他早先的懊恼又回到了他脸上。

我放下苹果，咬了一口披萨，然后看向别处，想知道他将要怎样开口。

“那么，那个女招待很漂亮，对吗？”他若无其事地问道。

“你真的没注意到？”

“没有。我完全没在注意她。我脑子里有太多事情要想。”

“可怜的女孩。”现在我能够表示宽容了。

“你和杰西卡说的某件事……嗯，困扰着我。”他拒绝被转移话题。他的声音沙哑着，他不平静的双眼从睫毛下凝视着我。

“我对你会听到你不喜欢的内容毫不惊讶。你知道他们是怎么谈论窃听者的。”我提醒他。

“我预先告诉过你我会听的。”

“而我预先告诉过你你不会想要知道我在想的每一件事的。”

“你有提过。”他同意道，但他的声音还是很沙哑。“但你说得并不贴切。我确实想要知道你在想什么——每一个细节。我只是希望……你不应该那样认为某件事。”  

我皱起眉。“这确实有很大区别。”

“但这不是现在我要说的重点。”

“那么，重点是？”现在我们都从桌子上方向对方倾斜过去。他把那双雪白的大手交叠在下鄂之下。我向前侧着身子，我的右手握成杯形放在脖子下。我不得不提醒自己我们是在坐满了人的午餐室里，也许还有很多双好奇的眼睛注视着我们。我们太容易陷入我们两人私有的世界里，这是紧绷的气氛带来的少许幻觉。

“你真的相信，你对我的喜欢比我对你的还要多吗？”他低声说着，说话间他向我靠得更近了，他黑金色的眼眸极具穿透力。

我努力想要回想起如何呼吸。我不得不看向别处，直到我重又开始呼吸为止。

“你又来了。”我低声抱怨道。

他的眼睛因为惊讶而睁大了。“什么？”

“把我迷得晕头转向。”我坦白道。当我再次看向他时，我努力让自己集中精神。

“哦。”他皱起眉。

“这不是你的错。”我叹息道。“你没法控制这个。”

“你打算回答我的问题了吗？”

我低下头。“是的。”

“是的，你正准备回答，或者是的，你确实是这样认为的？”他再次烦躁起来。

“是的，我确实这样认为。”我继续低头看着桌面，我的目光描摹着喷绘在三合板上的人造木纹的图案。沉默仍在延续着。这次我固执地拒绝成为第一个打破沉默的人，艰难地与偷瞄他的神情的诱或斗争着。

最终，他说话了，声音像天鹅绒一样柔软：“你错了。”

我抬起头，看见了他温柔的眼眸。

“你不会知道那种事的。”我耳语着，不同意他的观点。我怀疑着摇了摇头，尽管我的心为他的话悸动着，我是那么的想要相信他的话。

“是什么让你这样想的？”他清澈如黄水晶般的眼眸十分锐利——我认为，是在徒劳地尝试着，直接从我的心里挖出真相。

我回视着他，挣扎着不去注意他的脸，仔细地思考着，想要找到合适的解释。当我搜肠刮肚地想着合适的话的时候，我看得出，他开始不耐烦了。他被我的沉默挫败着，开始沉下脸来。我把手从脖子下移开，向他竖起一根手指。

“让我想想。”我坚持着。他的脸立刻明朗起来，他很满意，因为我正计划着回答他的问题。我把手放到桌子上，伸出左手，然后掌心相抵着。我看着自己的双手，十指时伸时屈。最终，我说话了。

“嗯，除去那些显而易见的表现，有时候……”我迟疑着。“我不能肯定——我可不会读心术——可有时候当你在说别的事时，你像是努力要说再见一样。”这是我对他的话时不时在我心里引起的那些痛苦的感觉的最好的总结。

“非常敏锐。”他耳语道。又一阵痛苦袭来，表面上看他似乎证实了我的恐惧。“但是，那确实是你错了的原因。”他正要开始解释，但随即，他的眼睛眯缝起来。“你是什么意思，‘那些显而易见的表现’？”

“好吧，看着我。”我说道，但这毫无必要，因为他已经在注视着我了。“我无比平凡——嗯，除了一些不好的事，比方说所有这些与死神擦肩而过的经历，还有笨拙得像个残障人士一样。而看看你。”我挥手示意着他，还有他所有的让人迷乱的极致之处。

他的眉头愤怒地纠结了片刻，然后平缓下来，他露出了知晓一切的眼神。“你没有看清楚自己，你知道的。我承认在那些不好的事情上你完全正确，”他阴郁地轻笑着，“可惜你没听到当你第一天来到这里的时候，学校里的每一个人类男性都在想什么。”  

我眨了眨眼睛，惊讶不已。“我不敢相信……”我低声自言自语着。

“相信我，哪怕就这一次——你完全是平凡的反义词。”

我的窘迫运甚于他说这些时的眼神给我带来的愉悦。我赶紧提醒他我最初的论点。

“可我没有说再见。”我指出来。

“你没看出来吗？这正是证明了我是对的。我的喜爱最深，因为如果我能做到”——他摇了摇头，似乎在和那个想法斗争着——“如果离开是正确的做法，那我宁可伤害自己以免伤害到你，只要能确保你的安全无虞。”

我怒目而视：“而你不认为我能做到同样的事？”

“你永远都不必作出这样的选择。”

突然，他喜怒无常的情绪又变了。一个顽劣的，讥讽的笑容重又出现在他脸上。

“当然，确保你的安全无虞正在变成一件全时制的工作，需要我永不间断地守在你身旁。”

“今天可没人想要干掉我。”我提醒着他，很高兴能够转到一个相对轻松的话题。我不想让他再谈到任何关于别离的问题了。如果我非得这样做的话，我猜想我会刻意让自己处于险境之中，好让他靠近我……在他敏锐的眼睛从我脸上看出这个念头以前，我把它赶出了脑海。这个想法显然会给我带来麻烦的。

“是目前为止还没有。”他补充道。

“是啊。”我赞同道。我本应该和他争论的，但现在我只想让他的期望落空。

“我还有另一个问题要问你。”他依然是一脸漫不经心的神情。

“有话直说。”

“这周六你真的需要去西雅图吗，或者这只是用来对你所有的倾慕者说不的借口？”

想起这件事，我就不由得做了个鬼脸：“你要知道，我还没原谅你泰勒那件事呢。”我警告他。“都是你的错，他才会自欺欺人地想着我会和他一起去正式舞会。”

“噢，就算没有我他也会找到机会邀请你的——我只是想看看你的表情，”他轻笑着。如果不是他的笑声如此迷人的话，我本来会更生气些的。“如果我曾邀请你，你会拒绝我吗？”他问道，依然向自己大笑着。

“也许不会。”我坦承道。“但稍后我会食言的——捏造病情或者假装扭伤脚踝。”

他很困惑：“为什么你要这样做呢？”

我悲哀地摇了摇头。“我猜，你没见过我上体育课的样子，但我原本以为你会理解的。”

“你是在谈论你没法走过一段平坦的，稳固的路面而找不到任何东西来绊倒你的这个事实吗？”

“很显然。”

“那不会是个问题。”他很有把握地说。“这取决于谁来领你跳舞。”他看得出我正要提出异议，于是他打断了我。“可你还没告诉我——你是不是非去西雅图不可，或者说，你是否介意我们去做点别的事？”

一听到“我们”这个词，我就什么都不在乎了。

“哪个我都能接受。”我要求道。“但我有个不情之请。”

他看上去很警惕，每当我提出一个开放性的问题时他总是这样。“什么？”

“能让我开车吗？”    

他皱起眉：“为什么？”

“嗯，主要是因为当我告诉查理我要去西雅图时，他特意问过我是不是一个人去，而那时，我是一个人。如果他再问的话，我大概也不会撒谎，但我不认为他会再问一次。而把我的卡车留在家里只会毫不必要地引起这个话题。另外，因为你的疯狂驾驶把我吓坏了。”

他转了转眼睛。“在所有关于我的能把你吓坏的事中，你只担心我的驾驶。”他厌恶地摇了摇头，但随即他的眼神又严肃起来。“你不想告诉你父亲你要和我呆一整天吗？”他的问题里涌动着我无法理解的暗流。
“跟查理在一起，少言为妙。”我对此很有把我。“总之，我们要去哪里？”

“那天的天气会很好，所以我不能待在众目睽睽之下……当然你可以和我一起，如果你愿意的话。”又一次，他给出了选择，让我自己决定。

“而你将向我展示你所指的，关于阳光的事？”我问道，为即将解开又一个未解之谜的念头兴奋着。

“是的。”他微笑起来，然后顿了顿。“但即使你不想……和我单独相处，我还是希望你不要独自去西雅图。一想到你在那么大的城市里可能会遇到的危险我就不寒而栗。”

我有点恼火：“凤凰城是西雅图的三倍大——这仅仅是指人口。在面积上——”

“但很显然，”他打断我的话。“在凤凰城的时候你还没有大难临头。所以我希望你能待在我附近。”他的眼睛又开始那种不公平的催眠了。

我没有争论，也许是因为他的眼睛，又或许是因为他的动机。更何况无论如何，争论这一点毫无意义。“碰巧，我不介意和你单独相处。”

“我知道。”他担忧地叹息道。“但是，你必须告诉查理。”

“我究竟是为了什么要这样做呢？”

他的眼神忽然尖锐起来：“为了给我一点小小的，把你带回来的动力。”

我吞咽了一下。但是，思考了片刻以后，我决定了。“我想我会试着碰碰运气的。”

他生气地哼了一声，看向别处。

“让我们聊点别的事情。”我建议道。

“你想聊点什么？”他问道。他依然很气恼。

我环顾四周，确认我们不在任何人的听力范围内。当我的目光梭巡着整个房间的时候，我遇上了他妹妹的视线，爱丽丝正注视着我。别的人则都看着爱德华。我立刻移开了视线，落回他身上。然后，我问了自己想到的第一件事。

“为什么上周末你要去山羊岩荒野……去打猎呢？查理说那不是个野营的好地方，因为到处都是熊。”

他凝视着我，就好像我忽略了某件显而易见的事情。

“熊？”我喘着气说道，而他坏笑起来。“你知道，还没到可以捕猎熊的季节。”我坚决地补充道，想要掩饰自己的震惊。

“如果你有仔细看的话，你会发现法律只针对使用武器狩猎的行为。”他告诉我。

他饶有趣味地看着我的脸，看着我一点一点地消化这个认知。

“熊？”我艰难地重复道。

“灰熊是艾美特的最爱。”他的口气依然很随意，但他的眼睛密切关注着我的反应。我努力让自己恢复镇定。

“呃嗯”我说着，又咬了一口披萨，借机低下了头。我慢慢地咀嚼着，然后啜饮了许久可乐，依然没有抬头。

“那么，”过了一会儿我才说道，最终对上了他变得焦虑不安的注视。“你的最爱是什么？”

他挑起一侧眉头，不赞成地弯下了嘴角。“美洲狮。”

“啊。”我用一种礼貌的，不感兴趣的语气说道，又开始喝我的苏打水了。

“当然，”他说道，他的口吻像镜子一样反映着我的语气。“我们不得不当心，避免让有失妥当的捕猎破坏环境。我们努力把捕猎范围集中在食肉动物数量过剩的地区——变动的范围会根据我们的需要尽可能广泛些。那里通常有许多的野鹿和麋鹿，猎食它们也是可以的，但这有什么乐趣可言呢？”他自嘲地笑了笑。

“说得更确切些。”我又咬了一口披萨，含糊地说道。

“早春是艾美特最喜欢的猎熊季节——它们刚从冬眠中醒来，所以它们更容易被激怒。”他似乎想起了某个玩笑，于是笑了起来。

“没什么能比一只被激怒的灰熊更有趣了。”我赞同着，点了点头。

他窃笑着，摇了摇头：“告诉我你真正在想的事情，求你了。”

“我试着想象出这一切——可我不能。”我承认道。“你怎么能赤手空拳猎熊呢？”

“哦，我们有武器。”他飞快地露了一下他明亮的牙齿，险恶地笑着。我击溃了一阵战栗，在它出卖我以前。“只不过不是那种他们在写狩猎法时能想到的武器。如果你在电视上看过熊进攻的样子，你就能想象出艾美特狩猎的样子。”

我没法制止住飞掠过我的脊柱的又一阵颤栗。我偷偷看了一眼自助餐厅对面的艾美特，为他并没有看着我的方向而感激着。健壮的肌肉群裹满了他的手臂和躯干，不知怎的他身上的肌肉现在看起来更吓人了。

爱德华循着我的视线望去，然后轻笑起来。我气馁地看着他。

“你也像一只熊吗？”我压低声音问道。

“更像狮子，或者说，他们是这样告诉我的。”他轻快地说道。“也许我们的偏好是有象征意义的。”

我努力微笑。“也许。”我重复道。但我的脑海里充斥着各种对立的画面，我没法把它们糅合在一起。“我能去看看吗？”

“绝对不行！”他的脸变得甚至比平时还要苍白，他的眼神忽然狂暴起来。我受惊地向后退去——尽管我永远都不想向他承认——被他的反应吓坏了。他也退回去了，两臂交叠在胸前。

“对我来说太恐怖了？”当我能再度控制自己的声音的时候，我问道。

“如果是这个原因，我今晚就会带你出去。”他斩钉截铁地说道。“你需要补充一剂量有益健康的恐惧。对你来说没什么能比这更有好处。”

“那究竟是为什么呢？”我催促着，努力不去理会他愤怒的神情。

他怒视了我一分钟，漫长的一分钟。

“下次吧。”他最终说道。他用一种轻盈的动作站起来。“我们要迟到了。”

我环顾四周，惊愕地发现他是对的，自助餐厅里几乎全空了。当我和他在一起的时候，时间和空间都会变得模糊起来，而我会完全失去对它们的感觉。我跳起来，从椅背上抓起我的背包。

“那么，下次吧。”我同意了。我不会忘记的。
10. INTERROGATIONS




It was very hard, in the morning, to argue with the part of me that was
sure last night was a dream. Logic wasn't on my side, or common sense. I
clung to the parts I couldn't have imagined — like his smell. I was sure
I could never have dreamed that up on my own.

It was foggy and dark outside my window, absolutely perfect. He had no
reason not to be in school today. I dressed in my heavy clothes,
remembering I didn't have a jacket. Further proof that my memory was real.

When I got downstairs, Charlie was gone again — I was running later than
I'd realized. I swallowed a granola bar in three bites, chased it down
with milk straight from the carton, and then hurried out the door.
Hopefully the rain would hold off until I could find Jessica.

It was unusually foggy; the air was almost smoky with it. The mist was
ice cold where it clung to the exposed skin on my face and neck. I
couldn't wait to get the heat going in my truck. It was such a thick fog
that I was a few feet down the driveway before I realized there was a car
in it: a silver car. My heart thudded, stuttered, and then picked up
again in double time.

I didn't see where he came from, but suddenly he was there, pulling the
door open for me.

"Do you want to ride with me today?" he asked, amused by my expression as
he caught me by surprise yet again. There was uncertainty in his voice.
He was really giving me a choice — I was free to refuse, and part of him
hoped for that. It was a vain hope.

"Yes, thank you," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. As I stepped into
the warm car, I noticed his tan jacket was slung over the headrest of the
passenger seat. The door closed behind me, and, sooner than should be
possible, he was sitting next to me, starting the car.

"I brought the jacket for you. I didn't want you to get sick or
something." His voice was guarded. I noticed that he wore no jacket
himself, just a light gray knit V-neck shirt with long sleeves. Again,
the fabric clung to his perfectly muscled chest. It was a colossal
tribute to his face that it kept my eyes away from his body.

"I'm not quite that delicate," I said, but I pulled the jacket onto my
lap, pushing my arms through the too-long sleeves, curious to see if the
scent could possibly be as good as I remembered. It was better.

"Aren't you?" he contradicted in a voice so low I wasn't sure if he meant
for me to hear.

We drove through the fog-shrouded streets, always too fast, feeling
awkward. I was, at least. Last night all the walls were down… almost all.

I didn't know if we were still being as candid today. It left me
tongue-tied. I waited for him to speak.

He turned to smirk at me. "What, no twenty questions today?"

"Do my questions bother you?" I asked, relieved.

"Not as much as your reactions do." He looked like he was joking, but I
couldn't be sure.

I frowned. "Do I react badly?"

"No, that's the problem. You take everything so coolly — it's unnatural.
It makes me wonder what you're really thinking."

"I always tell you what I'm really thinking."

"You edit," he accused.

"Not very much."

"Enough to drive me insane."

"You don't want to hear it," I mumbled, almost whispered. As soon as the
words were out, I regretted them. The pain in my voice was very faint; I
could only hope he hadn't noticed it.

He didn't respond, and I wondered if I had ruined the mood. His face was
unreadable as we drove into the school parking lot. Something occurred to
me belatedly.

"Where's the rest of your family?" I asked — more than glad to be alone
with him, but remembering that his car was usually full.

"They took Rosalie's car." He shrugged as he parked next to a glossy red
convertible with the top up. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"

"Um, wow," I breathed. "If she has that, why does she ride with you?"

"Like I said, it's ostentatious. We try to blend in."

"You don't succeed." I laughed and shook my head as we got out of the
car. I wasn't late anymore; his lunatic driving had gotten me to school
in plenty of time. "So why did Rosalie drive today if it's more
conspicuous?"

"Hadn't you noticed? I'm breaking all the rules now." He met me at the
front of the car, staying very close to my side as we walked onto campus.
I wanted to close that little distance, to reach out and touch him, but I
was afraid he wouldn't like me to.

"Why do you have cars like that at all?" I wondered aloud. "If you're
looking for privacy?"

"An indulgence," he admitted with an impish smile. "We all like to drive
fast."

"Figures," I muttered under my breath.

Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof's overhang, Jessica was waiting,
her eyes about to bug out of their sockets. Over her arm, bless her, was
my jacket.

"Hey, Jessica," I said when we were a few feet away. "Thanks for
remembering." She handed me my jacket without speaking.

"Good morning, Jessica," Edward said politely. It wasn't really his fault
that his voice was so irresistible. Or what his eyes were capable of.

"Er… hi." She shifted her wide eyes to me, trying to gather her jumbled
thoughts. "I guess I'll see you in Trig." She gave me a meaningful look,
and I suppressed a sigh. What on earth was I going to tell her?

"Yeah, I'll see you then."

She walked away, pausing twice to peek back over her shoulder at us.

"What are you going to tell her?" Edward murmured.

"Hey, I thought you couldn't read my mind!" I hissed.

"I can't," he said, startled. Then understanding brightened his eyes.
"However, I can read hers — she'll be waiting to ambush you in class."

I groaned as I pulled off his jacket and handed it to him, replacing it
with my own. He folded it over his arm.

"So what are you going to tell her?"

"A little help?" I pleaded. "What does she want to know?"

He shook his head, grinning wickedly. "That's not fair."

"No, you not sharing what you know — now that's not fair."

He deliberated for a moment as we walked. We stopped outside the door to
my first class.

"She wants to know if we're secretly dating. And she wants to know how
you feel about me," he finally said.

"Yikes. What should I say?" I tried to keep my expression very innocent.
People were passing us on their way to class, probably staring, but I was
barely aware of them.

"Hmmm." He paused to catch a stray lock of hair that was escaping the
twist on my neck and wound it back into place. My heart spluttered
hyperactively. "I suppose you could say yes to the first… if you don't
mind — it's easier than any other explanation."

"I don't mind," I said in a faint voice.

"And as for her other question… well, I'll be listening to hear the
answer to that one myself." One side of his mouth pulled up into my
favorite uneven smile. I couldn't catch my breath soon enough to respond
to that remark. He turned and walked away.

"I'll see you at lunch," he called over his shoulder. Three people
walking in the door stopped to stare at me.

I hurried into class, flushed and irritated. He was such a cheater. Now I
was even more worried about what I was going to say to Jessica. I sat in
my usual seat, slamming my bag down in aggravation.

"Morning, Bella," Mike said from the seat next to me. I looked up to see
an odd, almost resigned look on his face. "How was Port Angeles?"

"It was…" There was no honest way to sum it up. "Great," I finished
lamely. "Jessica got a really cute dress."

"Did she say anything about Monday night?" he asked, his eyes
brightening. I smiled at the turn the conversation had taken.

"She said she had a really good time," I assured him.

"She did?" he said eagerly.

"Most definitely."

Mr. Mason called the class to order then, asking us to turn in our
papers. English and then Government passed in a blur, while I worried
about how to explain things to Jessica and agonized over whether Edward
would really be listening to what I said through the medium of Jess's
thoughts. How very inconvenient his little talent could be — when it

wasn't saving my life.

The fog had almost dissolved by the end of the second hour, but the day
was still dark with low, oppressing clouds. I smiled up at the sky.

Edward was right, of course. When I walked into Trig Jessica was sitting
in the back row, nearly bouncing off her seat in agitation. I reluctantly
went to sit by her, trying to convince myself it would be better to get
it over with as soon as possible.

"Tell me everything!" she commanded before I was in the seat.

"What do you want to know?" I hedged.

"What happened last night?"

"He bought me dinner, and then he drove me home."

She glared at me, her expression stiff with skepticism. "How did you get
home so fast?"

"He drives like a maniac. It was terrifying." I hoped he heard that.

"Was it like a date — did you tell him to meet you there?"

I hadn't thought of that. "No — I was very surprised to see him there."

Her lips puckered in disappointment at the transparent honesty in my
voice.

"But he picked you up for school today?" she probed.

"Yes — that was a surprise, too. He noticed I didn't have a jacket last
night," I explained.

"So are you going out again?"

"He offered to drive me to Seattle Saturday because he thinks toy truck
isn't up to it — does that count?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"Well, then, yes."

"W-o-w." She exaggerated the word into three syllables. "Edward Cullen."

"I know," I agreed. "Wow" didn't even cover it.

"Wait!" Her hands flew up, palms toward me like she was stopping traffic.
"Has he kissed you?"

"No," I mumbled. "It's not like that."

She looked disappointed. I'm sure I did, too.

"Do you think Saturday… ?" She raised her eyebrows.

"I really doubt it." The discontent in my voice was poorly disguised.

"What did you talk about?" She pushed for more information in a whisper.
Class had started but Mr. Varner wasn't paying close attention and we
weren't the only ones still talking.

"I don't know, Jess, lots of stuff," I whispered back. "We talked about
the English essay a little." A very, very little. I think he mentioned it
in passing.

"Please, Bella," she begged. "Give me some details."

"Well… okay, I've got one. You should have seen the waitress flirting
with him — it was over the top. But he didn't pay any attention to her at
all." Let him make what he could of that.

"That's a good sign," she nodded. "Was she pretty?"

"Very — and probably nineteen or twenty."

"Even better. He must like you."

"I think so, but it's hard to tell. He's always so cryptic," I threw in
for his benefit, sighing.

"I don't know how you're brave enough to be alone with him," she breathed.

"Why?" I was shocked, but she didn't understand my reaction.

"He's so… intimidating. I wouldn't know what to say to him." She made a
face, probably remembering this morning or last night, when he'd turned
the overwhelming force of his eyes on her.

"I do have some trouble with incoherency when I'm around him," I admitted.

"Oh well. He is unbelievably gorgeous." Jessica shrugged as if this
excused any flaws. Which, in her book, it probably did.

"There's a lot more to him than that."

"Really? Like what?"

I wished I had let it go. Almost as much as I was hoping he'd been
kidding about listening in.

"I can't explain it right… but he's even more unbelievable behind the
face." The vampire who wanted to be good — who ran around saving people's
lives so he wouldn't be a monster… I stared toward the front of the room.

"Is that possible?" She giggled.

I ignored her, trying to look like I was paying attention to Mr. Varner.

"So you like him, then?" She wasn't about to give up.

"Yes," I said curtly.

"I mean, do you really like him?" she urged.

"Yes," I said again, blushing. I hoped that detail wouldn't register in
her thoughts.

She'd had enough with the single syllable answers. "How much do you like
him?"

"Too much," I whispered back. "More than he likes me. But I don't see how
I can help that." I sighed, one blush blending into the next.

Then, thankfully, Mr. Varner called on Jessica for an answer.

She didn't get a chance to start on the subject again during class, and
as soon as the bell rang, I took evasive action.

"In English, Mike asked me if you said anything about Monday night," I
told her.

"You're kidding! What did you say?!" she gasped, completely sidetracked.

"I told him you said you had a lot of fun — he looked pleased."

"Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!"

We spent the rest of the walk dissecting sentence structures and most of
Spanish on a minute description of Mike's facial expressions. I wouldn't
have helped draw it out for as long as I did if I wasn't worried about
the subject returning to me.

And then the bell rang for lunch. As I jumped up out of my seat, shoving
my books roughly in my bag, my uplifted expression must have tipped
Jessica off.

"You're not sitting with us today, are you?" she guessed.

"I don't think so." I couldn't be sure that he wouldn't disappear
inconveniently again.

But outside the door to our Spanish class, leaning against the wall —
looking more like a Greek god than anyone had a right to — Edward was
waiting for me. Jessica took one look, rolled her eyes, and departed.

"See you later, Bella." Her voice was thick with implications. I might
have to turn off the ringer on the phone.

"Hello." His voice was amused and irritated at the same time. He had been
listening, it was obvious.

"Hi."

I couldn't think of anything else to say, and he didn't speak — biding
his time, I presumed — so it was a quiet walk to the cafeteria. Walking
with Edward through the crowded lunchtime rush was a lot like my first
day here; everyone stared.

He led the way into the line, still not speaking, though his eyes
returned to my face every few seconds, their expression speculative. It
seemed to me that irritation was winning out over amusement as the
dominant emotion in his face. I fidgeted nervously with the zipper on my
jacket.

He stepped up to the counter and filled a tray with food.

"What are you doing?" I objected. "You're not getting all that for me?"

He shook his head, stepping forward to buy the food.

"Half is for me, of course."

I raised one eyebrow.

He led the way to the same place we'd sat that one time before. From the
other end of the long table, a group of seniors gazed at us in amazement
as we sat across from each other. Edward seemed oblivious.

"Take whatever you want," he said, pushing the tray toward me.

"I'm curious," I said as I picked up an apple, turning it around in my
hands, "what would you do if someone dared you to eat food?"

"You're always curious." He grimaced, shaking his head. He glared at me,
holding my eyes as he lifted the slice of pizza off the tray, and
deliberately bit off a mouthful, chewed quickly, and then swallowed. I
watched, eyes wide.

"If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?" he asked
condescendingly.

I wrinkled my nose. "I did once… on a dare," I admitted. "It wasn't so
bad."

He laughed. "I suppose I'm not surprised." Something over my shoulder
seemed to catch his attention.

"Jessica's analyzing everything I do — she'll break it down for you
later." He pushed the rest of the pizza toward me. The mention of Jessica
brought a hint of his former irritation back to his features.

I put down the apple and took a bite of the pizza, looking away, knowing
he was about to start.

"So the waitress was pretty, was she?" he asked casually.

"You really didn't notice?"

"No. I wasn't paying attention. I had a lot on my mind."

"Poor girl." I could afford to be generous now.

"Something you said to Jessica… well, it bothers me." He refused to be
distracted. His voice was husky, and he glanced up from under his lashes
with troubled eyes.

"I'm not surprised you heard something you didn't like. You know what
they say about eavesdropners," I reminded him.

"I warned you I would be listening."

"And I warned you that you didn't want to know everything I was thinking."

"You did," he agreed, but his voice was still rough. "You aren't
precisely right, though. I do want to know what you're thinking —
everything. I just wish… that you wouldn't be thinking some things."

I scowled. "That's quite a distinction."

"But that's not really the point at the moment."

"Then what is?" We were inclined toward each other across the table now.
He had his large white hands folded under his chin; I leaned forward, my
right hand cupped around my neck. I had to remind myself that we were in
a crowded lunchroom, with probably many curious eyes on us. It was too
easy to get wrapped up in our own private, tense little bubble.

"Do you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?" he
murmured, leaning closer to me as he spoke, his dark golden eyes piercing.

I tried to remember how to exhale. I had to look away before it came back
to me.

"You're doing it again," I muttered.

His eyes opened wide with surprise. "What?"

"Dazzling me," I admitted, trying to concentrate as I looked back at him.

"Oh." He frowned.

"It's not your fault," I sighed. "You can't help it."

"Are you going to answer the question?"

I looked down. "Yes."

"Yes, you are going to answer, or yes, you really think that?" He was
irritated again.

"Yes, I really think that." I kept my eyes down on the table, my eyes
tracing the pattern of the faux wood grains printed on the laminate. The
silence dragged on. I stubbornly refused to be the first to break it this
time, fighting hard against the temptation to peek at his expression.

Finally he spoke, voice velvet soft. "You're wrong."

I glanced up to see that his eyes were gentle.

"You can't know that," I disagreed in a whisper. I shook my head in
doubt, though my heart throbbed at his words and I wanted so badly to
believe them.

"What makes you think so?" His liquid topaz eyes were penetrating —
trying futilely, I assumed, to lift the truth straight from my mind.

I stared back, struggling to think clearly in spite of his face, to find
some way to explain. As I searched for the words, I could see him getting
impatient; frustrated by my silence, he started to scowl. I lifted my
hand from my neck, and held up one finger.

"Let me think," I insisted. His expression cleared, now that he was
satisfied that I was planning to answer. I dropped my hand to the table,
moving my left hand so that my palms were pressed together. I stared at
my hands, twisting and untwisting my fingers, as I finally spoke.

"Well, aside from the obvious, sometimes…" I hesitated. "I can't be sure
— I don't know how to read minds — but sometimes it seems like you're
trying to say goodbye when you're saying something else." That was the
best I could sum up the sensation of anguish that his words triggered in
me at times.

"Perceptive," he whispered. And there was the anguish again, surfacing as
he confirmed my fear. "That's exactly why you're wrong, though," he began
to explain, but then his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'the obvious'?"

"Well, look at me," I said, unnecessarily as he was already staring. "I'm
absolutely ordinary — well, except for bad things like all the near-death
experiences and being so clumsy that I'm almost disabled. And look at
you." I waved my hand toward him and all his bewildering perfection.

His brow creased angrily for a moment, then smoothed as his eyes took on
a knowing look. "You don't see yourself very clearly, you know. I'll
admit you're dead-on about the bad things," he chuckled blackly, "but you
didn't hear what every human male in this school was thinking on your
first day."

I blinked, astonished. "I don't believe it…" I mumbled to myself.

"Trust me just this once — you are the opposite of ordinary."

My embarrassment was much stronger than my pleasure at the look that came
into his eyes when he said this. I quickly reminded him of my original
argument.

"But I'm not saying goodbye," I pointed out.

"Don't you see? That's what proves me right. I care the most, because if
I can do it" — he shook his head, seeming to struggle with the thought —
"if leaving is the right thing to do, then I'll hurt myself to keep from
hurting you, to keep you safe."

I glared. "And you don't think I would do the same?"

"You'd never have to make the choice."

Abruptly, his unpredictable mood shifted again; a mischievous,
devastating smile rearranged his features. "Of course, keeping you safe
is beginning to feel like a full-time occupation that requires my
constant presence."

"No one has tried to do away with me today," I reminded him, grateful for
the lighter subject. I didn't want him to talk about goodbyes anymore. If
I had to, I supposed I could purposefully put myself in danger to keep
him close… I banished that thought before his quick eyes read it on my
face. That idea would definitely get me in trouble.

"Yet," he added.

"Yet," I agreed; I would have argued, but now I wanted him to be
expecting disasters.

"I have another question for you." His face was still casual.

"Shoot."

"Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an
excuse to get out of saying no to all your admirers?"

I made a face at the memory. "You know, I haven't forgiven you for the
Tyler thing yet," I warned him. "It's your fault that he's deluded
himself into thinking I'm going to prom with him."

"Oh, he would have found a chance to ask you without me — I just really
wanted to watch your face," he chuckled, I would have been angrier if his
laughter wasn't so fascinating. "If I'd asked you, would you have turned
me down?" he asked, still laughing to himself.

"Probably not," I admitted. "But I would have canceled later — faked an
illness or a sprained ankle."

He was puzzled. "Why would you do that?"

I shook my head sadly. "You've never seen me in Gym, I guess, but I would
have thought you would understand."

"Are you referring to the fact that you can't walk across a flat, stable
surface without finding something to trip over?"

"Obviously."

"That wouldn't be a problem." He was very confident. "It's all in the
leading." He could see that I was about to protest, and he cut me off.
"But you never told me — are you resolved on going to Seattle, or do you
mind if we do something different?"

As long as the "we" part was in, I didn't care about anything else.

"I'm open to alternatives," I allowed. "But I do have a favor to ask."

He looked wary, as he always did when I asked an open-ended question.
"What?"

"Can I drive?"

He frowned. "Why?"

"Well, mostly because when I told Charlie I was going to Seattle, he
specifically asked if I was going alone and, at the time, I was. If he
asked again, I probably wouldn't lie, but I don't think he will ask
again, and leaving my truck at home would just bring up the subject
unnecessarily. And also, because your driving frightens me."

He rolled his eyes. "Of all the things about me that could frighten you,
you worry about my driving." He shook his head in disgust, but then his
eyes were serious again. "Won't you want to tell your father that you're
spending the day with me?" There was an undercurrent to his question that
I didn't understand.

"With Charlie, less is always more." I was definite about that. "Where
are we going, anyway?"

"The weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye… and
you can stay with me, if you'd like to." Again, he was leaving the choice
up to me.

"And you'll show me what you meant, about the sun?" I asked, excited by
the idea of unraveling another of the unknowns.

"Yes." He smiled, and then paused. "But if you don't want to be… alone
with me, I'd still rather you didn't go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder
to think of the trouble you could find in a city that size."

I was miffed. "Phoenix is three times bigger than Seattle — just in
population. In physical size —"

"But apparently," he interrupted me, "your number wasn't up in Phoenix.
So I'd rather you stayed near me." His eyes did that unfair smoldering
thing again.

I couldn't argue, with the eyes or the motivation, and it was a moot
point anyway. "As it happens, I don't mind being alone with you."

"I know," he sighed, brooding. "You should tell Charlie, though."

"Why in the world would I do that?"

His eyes were suddenly fierce. "To give me some small incentive to bring
you back."

I gulped. But, after a moment of thought, I was sure. "I think I'll take
my chances."

He exhaled angrily, and looked away.

"Let's talk about something else," I suggested.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked. He was still annoyed.

I glanced around us, making sure we were well out of anyone's hearing. As
I cast my eyes around the room, I caught the eyes of his sister, Alice,
staring at me. The others were looking at Edward. I looked away swiftly,
back to him, and I. asked the first thing that came to mind.

"Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place last weekend… to hunt? Charlie
said it wasn't a good place to hike, because of bears."

He stared at me as if I was missing something very obvious.

"Bears?" I gasped, and he smirked. "You know, bears are not in season," I
added sternly, to hide my shock.

"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons," he
informed me.

He watched my face with enjoyment as that slowly sank in.

"Bears?" I repeated with difficulty.

"Grizzly is Emmett's favorite." His voice was still offhand, but his eyes
were scrutinizing my reaction. I tried to pull myself together.

"Hmmm," I said, taking another bite of pizza as an excuse to look down. I
chewed slowly, and then took a long drink of Coke without looking up.

"So," I said after a moment, finally meeting his now-anxious gaze.
"What's your favorite?"

He raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth turned down in
disapproval. "Mountain lion."

"Ah," I said in a politely disinterested tone, looking for my soda again.

"Of course," he said, and his tone mirrored mine, "we have to be careful
not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus
on areas with an overpopulation of predators — ranging as far away as we
need. There's always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do, but
where's the fun in that?" He smiled teasingly.

"Where indeed," I murmured around another bite of pizza.

"Early spring is Emmett's favorite bear season — they're just coming out
of hibernation, so they're more irritable." He smiled at some remembered
joke.

"Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear," I agreed, nodding.

He snickered, shaking his head. "Tell me what you're really thinking,
please."

"I'm trying to picture it — but I can't," I admitted. "How do you hunt a
bear without weapons?"

"Oh, we have weapons." He flashed his bright teeth in a brief,
threatening smile. I fought back a shiver before it could expose me.
"Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you've
ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize
Emmett hunting."

I couldn't stop the next shiver that flashed down my spine. I peeked
across the cafeteria toward Emmett, grateful that he wasn't looking my
way. The thick bands of muscle that wrapped his arms and torso were
somehow even more menacing now.

Edward followed my gaze and chuckled. I stared at him, unnerved.

"Are you like a bear, too?" I asked in a low voice.

"More like the lion, or so they tell me," he said lightly. "Perhaps our
preferences are indicative."

I tried to smile. "Perhaps," I repeated. But my mind was filled with
opposing images that I couldn't merge together. "Is that something I
might get to see?"

"Absolutely not!" His face turned even whiter than usual, and his eyes
were suddenly furious. I leaned back, stunned and — though I'd never
admit it to him — frightened by his reaction. He leaned back as well,
folding his arms across his chest.

"Too scary for me?" I asked when I could control my voice again.

"If that were it, I would take you out tonight," he said, his voice
cutting. "You need a healthy dose of fear. Nothing could be more
beneficial for you."

"Then why?" I pressed, trying to ignore his angry expression.

He glared at me for a long minute.

"Later," he finally said. He was on his feet in one lithe movement.
"We're going to be late."

I glanced around, startled to see that he was right and the cafeteria was
nearly vacant. When I was with him, the time and the place were such a
muddled blur that I completely lost track of both. I jumped up, grabbing
my bag from the back of my chair.

"Later, then," I agreed. I wouldn't forget.
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离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
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第九章 理论
第九章 理论

“我能再问一个问题吗？”我恳求道。爱德华在安静的街道上越开越快。他似乎根本就没在注意路况。

他叹了口气。

“就一个。”他同意了。他的双唇又抿紧成一条谨慎的线条。

“嗯……你说你知道我没进书店，而且我往南走了。我只是想弄明白你是怎么知道的。”

他看向别处，思索着。

“我认为我们都不应该逃避的。”我喃喃地抱怨道。

他几乎微笑起来。

“好吧，那么，我一路跟随着你的气息。”他看着路面，让我有时间恢复脸上的镇定。对此我根本想不出任何令人满意的回答，但我小心地把它归档，以供日后研究。我试着重新集中注意力。既然他终于开始解释了，我可不准备让他就此打住。

“还有，你还没回答我最开始问的一个问题……”我在拖延时间。

他不赞同地看着我：“哪一个？”

“这是怎么起作用的——读心术？你能读任何地方，任何人的心吗？你是怎么做到的？你家里别的成员能……？”我觉得自己很愚蠢，居然为了掩饰自己而要求他澄清一切。

“这可不止一个问题。”他指出。我只是十指交缠，然后注视着他，等待着。

“不，只有我是这样。而且我也不是可以听到任何地方任何人的心。我得靠得相当近。越熟悉某人的……‘声音’，我就能从越远的地方听到他们。但始终，不能超过几英里的距离。”他停下来想了想。“就好比在一个巨大的挤满人的礼堂里，同一时刻每个人都在说话。那只是一阵嗡嗡声——一阵嗡嗡的背景声。直到我把注意里集中在某个声音上，他们所想的才会清晰起来。”

“大多数时候我都会把它们拒之耳外——实在是太烦人了。而且这样会能让我显得更正常些”——他说这话时皱了皱眉——“我就不会出人意料地回答某人心中未出口的疑问。”

“为什么你认为你听不到我的‘心声’呢？”我好奇地问道。

他看着我，眼里写满了不可思议。

“我不知道。”他喃喃低语道。“我唯一的猜想是也许你的脑子运作的方式和所有别的人都不一样。就像是你的思想在AM频道，而我只能收到FM。”他向我咧嘴一笑，忽然打趣道。

“我的脑子不正常？我是个怪胎？”这些话比预期的更让我困扰——也许是因为他的推测正中要害。我时常怀疑着这一点，而当它被证实时让我感到局促不安。

“我能听到脑子里的声音，而你却在担心你是怪胎。”他大笑着。“别担心，那只是个理论……”他的脸绷紧了。“现在让我们回到你的理论上吧。”

我叹了口气。从何说起？

“我们现在都不应该逃避，对吧？”他温柔地提醒我。

我头一次把目光从他脸上移开，搜肠刮肚地想要找出合适的言语来表达。我无意中注意到了速度计。

“我的天啊！”我喊出声来。“减速！”

“怎么了？”他吓了一跳，但车速并没有放慢。

“你开到了每小时一百英里！”我依然在大喊。我惊慌失措地看了一眼窗外，但外面太黑了，我什么也看不见。路面上只有被前灯微蓝的光线照到的长长的一片能看得清。路两旁的森林就像两堵黑色的墙——如果我们用这个速度冲出路面，它们会坚固得像铜墙铁壁一样。  

“放轻松，贝拉。”他转了转眼睛，还是没有减速。

“你想杀了我们吗？”我诘问道。

“我们不会撞车的。”

我试着调整自己的声音。“你为什么要这么匆忙呢？”

“我一向开这么快。”他转过头来，向我弯弯一笑。

“你给我看着路面！”

“我从没出过事故，贝拉——我甚至没有吃过罚单。”他咧嘴一笑，拍了拍他的额头。“内置雷达探测器。”

“很有趣。”我怒气冲冲地说着。“查理是个cop，还记得吧？我是被教育着要遵纪守法长大的。另外，即使你把我们变成了树干上的沃尔沃夹心饼，你也许还是可以全身而退。”

“也许。”他发出一声短促的、勉强的笑声，赞同道。“但你不能。”他叹息道。我宽慰地看到指针渐渐回落到八十英里处。“高兴了？”

“差不多。”

“我不喜欢开慢车。”他抱怨着。

“这叫慢？”

“就我的驾驶而言，相当中肯。”他忽然改变了话题。“我还等着听你的最新理论呢。”

我咬住唇。他低头看着我，蜜糖似的眼神出奇地温柔。

“我不会笑的。”他保证道。

“我更怕你会生我的气。”

“有那么糟吗？”

“没错，相当严重。”

他等待着。我埋头看着自己的双手，这样我就看不见他的表情了。

“接着说。”他的声音很平静。

“我不知道从何说起。”我坦白道。

“为什么不从头说起呢……你说你不是自己想出来的。”

“不是。”

“你是从哪儿开始的——一本书？一部电影？”他试探着说。

“不——是周六，在海滩上。”我冒险瞄了一眼他的脸。他看上去很困惑。

“我碰巧遇到了一位世交好友——雅克布.布莱克。”我继续说道。“我还是个婴儿的时候，他爸爸和查理就已经是老朋友了。”

他依然一脸困惑。

“他爸爸是奎鲁特人的长老之一。”我小心翼翼地看着他。他困惑的神情立刻凝在了脸上。“我们一起散步——”我去掉了故事里关于我的阴谋的那部分“——他告诉了我一些古老的传说——只是想要吓唬我，我想。他告诉了我一个……”我踌躇起来。

“继续。”他说。

“关于吸血鬼的传说。”我意识到自己在低语着。现在我再也不敢看他的脸了。但我看见他抓着方向盘的指关节痉挛着绷紧了。

“然后你立刻就想到了我？”依然很平静。

“不。他……提到了你的家族。”

他沉默了，只是注视着路面。

我忽然担心起来，担心着想要保护雅克布。

“他只是觉得那是一个愚蠢的迷信。”我飞快地说道。“他没希望我把其中的任何内容当真。”这似乎还不太够。我不得不承认道：“都是我的错，是我逼他告诉我的。”

“为什么？”

“劳伦说了一些关于你的话——她想要激怒我。然后部落里的一个年长的男孩说你的家族不会来保留区，只是听起来他像是在暗示着别的意思。所以我把雅克布单独约了出来，哄骗他说了出来。”我垂下头，承认道。

他大笑起来，把我吓了一跳。我抬起头瞪着他。他大笑着，眼神却显得很狂暴，他直视着前方。

“怎么哄骗他的？”他问道。

“我试图向他调情——但效果比我想象的还要好。”我回想着，语气里带了点怀疑的色彩。

“我真想亲眼目睹那个情景。”他阴郁地轻笑着。“你还指责我把别人迷得神魂颠倒呢——可怜的雅克布.布莱克。”

我红着脸，转头看着自己这侧窗外的夜空。  

“然后你做了什么？”一分钟以后，他问道。

“我在网上搜索了一下。”

“那证实了你的猜想吗？”他的声音听起来仅仅是感兴趣。但他的手紧紧地钳握住了方向盘。

“不。没有相符的内容。大多数内容都有点愚蠢。然后……”我停了下来。

“什么？”

“我决定了，这无关紧要。”我低语道。

“这无关紧要？”他的语气让我抬起头来——我最终打破了他小心翼翼地维持着的假面具。他的脸上写满了怀疑，还带着一丝让我害怕的愤怒。

“是的。”我柔声说道。“不管你是什么，这对我来说都无关紧要。”

生硬和嘲弄的色彩渗进了他的声音。“即使我是个怪物你也不在乎？即使我不是人类！”

“我不在乎。”

他沉默了，又一次直视着前方。他的神情阴暗而冷漠。

“你生气了。”我叹息道。“我本来应该什么也不说的。”

“不。”他说道，但他的声音和他的表情一样生硬。“我很想知道你在想什么——即使你的想法愚蠢透顶。”

“所以我又错了？”我挑衅道。

“我不是在说这个。‘这无关紧要’！”他引述着我的话，咬紧了牙关。

“我是对的？”我喘息着说。

“这要紧吗？”

我深吸了一口气。

“不怎么要紧。”我顿了顿。“但我很好奇。”只是，我的声音维持着平静。

他忽然顺从起来：“你好奇什么？”

“你几岁了？”

“十七岁。”他迅速答道。

“你满十七岁多久了？”

当他注视着路面的时候，他的嘴唇扭曲起来。“有一阵子了。”他最终承认道。

“很好。”我笑了起来，对他依然对我坦诚这一点很高兴。他低下头，用警惕的眼神看着我，就像他之前所做的那样，那时他正担心着我会不会震惊得休克过去。因为受到这样的鼓励，我笑得更开怀了，而他皱起了眉头。

“不许笑——可你是怎么能够在白天出来的呢？”

他总算笑了。“鬼扯。”

“被阳光灼烧？”

“鬼扯。”

“睡在棺材里？”

“鬼扯。”他迟疑了片刻，他的声音带上了某种奇特的语气。“我不用睡觉。”

我用了一分钟才消化了这句话。“完全不用？”

“从来不用。”他说道，他的声音几不可闻。他转过头来，用一种渴望的神情看着我。那双金色的眸子抓住了我的眼睛，我完全丧失了思考的能力。我凝视着他，直到他看向别处为止。

“你还没问我那个最重要的问题。”现在他的声音又生硬起来了，当他再次看向我时，他的眼睛冷冰冰的。

我眨了眨眼，依然迷茫着。“哪一个？”

“你不关心我的日常饮食吗？”他挖苦地问道。

“哦。”我喃喃地说着。“那个。”

“是的，那个。”他的声音很阴冷。“你不想知道我是否饮血吗？”

我畏缩着。“嗯，雅克布有说过一些这方面的内容。”

“雅克布怎么说的？”他冷漠地问道。

“他说你不……猎食人类。他说你的家族应该不会有危险性，因为你们只猎食动物。”

“他说我们不危险？”他的声音里有着深深的怀疑。

“不太确切。他是说你们应该没有不危险。但奎鲁特人依然不想让你们踏入他们的土地，只是以防万一。”

他看着前方，但我说不准他是是不是在看路面。

“那他说得对吗？关于不猎食人类这一点？”我竭力让自己的声音尽可能地保持正常。

“奎鲁特人的记性不错。”他低声说道。

我把它视为确认。    

“不过，别因为这个沾沾自喜。”他警告我。“就和我们保持距离这一点来说，他们是正确的。我们依然很危险。”

“我不明白。”

“我们是在尝试，”他慢条斯理地解释着。“我们通常很善于自我控制。但有时我们会犯错误。我，比方说，让自己和你独处。”

“这是个错误？”我听出了自己声音里的悲哀，但我不知道他是否也能听出来。

“一个非常危险的错误。”他低声说着。

然后，我们都沉默了。我看见前灯的光线在路面拐弯的地方扭曲着。它们移动得这样快，看上去一点也不真实，像是某个电视游戏。我意识到，时间过得这么快，就像车下漆黑的路面一样，我心头涌起一股可怕的恐惧感，生怕自己再也没有机会像这样和他在一起了——彼此开诚布公，我们之间的墙消失了，但仅此一次。他的话暗示着一切都结束了，一想到这个念头，我就畏缩起来。我不能再浪费我和他在一起的任何一分钟了。

“告诉我更多的事。”我不顾一切地问道，根本不在乎他说什么，只想再一次听到他的声音。
他飞快地看着我，为我语气的转变而震惊着：“你想要知道更多什么的？”

“告诉我你为什么猎食动物而非人类。”我建议道，声音里依然带着绝望的气息。我意识到自己的眼睛已经潮湿了，我反抗着那阵试图压制我的悲痛。

“我不想成为一个怪物。”他的声音很低。

“但动物并不能让你满足？”
他顿了顿：“当然，我不能肯定。但我可以把它比作靠豆-腐和豆-奶过活。我们称自己为素-食-者，这是我们私底下的小玩笑。这并不能完全满足饥饿——或者说，口渴。 但是不多时候，它能使我们抵住诱惑。”

他的语气开始有所保留。“有些时候，这会比别的时候更困难些。”

“现在这对你来说很困难吗？”我问道。

他叹息着。“是的。”

“但你现在不饿。”我肯定地说——是陈述，而非询问。

“为什么你会这样想呢？”

“你的眼睛。我告诉过你我有一个理论。我注意到人们——尤其是男人——饥饿的时候会更暴躁些。”

他轻笑着：“你是个观-察-家，不是吗？”

我没有回答。我只是听着他的笑声，把它铭刻在记忆里。  

“你上周末去狩猎了吗，和艾美特一起？”当我们再次安静下来的时候，我问道。

“是的。”他停顿了一秒，似乎在决定某件事该不该说。“我不想离开，但这很有必要。当我不那么渴的时候，待在你周围会更容易些。”

“为什么你不想离开呢？”

“这让我……不安……因为不在你身边。”他的眼睛很温柔，但有些紧张，它们几乎要让我的骨头都酥了。（。。。）“上周三我要你千万别掉进海里，或者别被绊倒，那不是在开玩笑。整个周末我都心浮气躁，担心着你。而在今晚发生的事以后，我很惊讶，你居然能毫发无损地平安度过整个周末。”他摇了摇头，似乎想起了什么。“好吧，并不是完全毫发无损。”

“什么？”

“你的手。”他提醒我。我低下头看自己的掌心，看见了手腕上那些快愈合了的擦伤。什么都逃不过他的眼睛。

“我摔倒了。”我叹了口气。

“这正是我想到的。”他的嘴角弯了起来。“我料想着，就你来说，情况本来可能会更糟——而这正是在我离开的整个时间里一直折磨着我的痛苦的根源。这真是非常漫长的。艾美特几乎被我烦死了。”他惨兮兮地向我笑着。

“三天？你不是昨天才回来吗？”

“不，我们星期天就回来了。”

“那为什么你们都不回学校呢？”我很沮丧，一想到因为他不在我所经受的那么多的失望的折磨，我就愤愤不平。

“嗯，你问过我阳光会不会伤害我，当然不会。但我不能走到太阳底下——至少，不能在任何会被别人看见的场合。”

“为什么？”

“我会找个时间向你展示的。”他保证道。

我思考了片刻。

“你应该打电话给我的。”我下定决心说道。

他很困惑。“但我知道你很安全。”

“可我不知道你在哪里。我——”我迟疑着，垂下了眼帘。

“什么？”他天鹅绒般的声音催促着。

“我不喜欢这样。见不到你。这也让我很不安。”这样大声地说出来让我羞红了脸。

他很安静。我惴惴不安地向他瞥了一眼，看见了他痛苦的神情。

“啊，”他低声呻吟道。“这是错误的。”

我不能理解他的反应。“我说了什么？”

“你还看不出来吗，贝拉？这完全是两码事：对我来说，是我让自己如此悲惨的；可对你而言，你不应该被牵涉得这么深的。”他移开了写满痛苦的目光，看着路面，他说得太快，我根本不明白他话里的意思。“我不想听到你有这种感觉。”他的声音很低，却很急迫。他的话刺痛了我。“这是错误的。这不安全。我很危险，贝拉——求你了，领会这一点。”

“不。”我非常艰难地努力不让自己看起来像个闹别扭的孩子。

“我是认真的。”他咆哮着。

“我也是。我告诉过你，你是什么根本无关紧要。太迟了。”

他的声音忽然响起来，低沉而刺耳。“永远不要这样说。”

我咬住唇，庆幸他不会知道这有多伤人。我看着车外的路面。现在我们一定快到了。他开得太快了。

“你在想什么？”他问道，声音依然很阴冷。我只是摇摇头，不确定自己能否说得出口。我能感觉到他正凝视着我的脸，但我只是看着前方。

“你在哭吗？”他听起来吓坏了。可我并没有感觉到眼里的液体盈出眼眶。我飞快地用手擦了一下脸颊，确实，叛徒眼泪正在那里，它们出卖了我。

“没有。”我说道，但我的声音嘶哑着。

我看见他迟疑着把右手伸向我，但他停住了，然后慢慢地把手放回了方向盘上。

“我很抱歉。”他的声音被懊悔灼烧着。我知道，他不只是在为刺痛了我的那些话道歉。

黑暗在沉默中从我们中间飞掠而过。

“和我说说话。”又过了一分钟，他要求道。我能听出来，他竭力让自己的语气更轻柔些。

“说什么？”

“今天晚上，在我转过拐角以前，你在想什么？我不明白你的表情——你看上去并不那么害怕，看起来就像是在聚精会神地想着某件事。”

“我在努力回想着要怎样挫败攻击我的人——你知道，防身术。我本来打算猛击他的鼻子，把它打进他的脑袋里的。”我想起了那个黑发男人，不由得一阵厌恶。

“你打算反抗他们？”这让他不安起来。“你没想过逃跑吗？”

“我跑步的时候老是摔倒。”我坦白道。

“那为什么不大声求救呢？”

“我正要那样做。”

他摇了摇头。“你是对的——我确实是在和命运抗争，努力让你活下来。”

我叹了口气。我们开始减速了，穿过了福克斯的边界。总共才花了不到二十分钟的时间。

“我明天能见到你吗？”我请求道。

“能——我也有一篇论文到期要交。”他微笑着。“午餐的时候我会给你留个座位的。”

这太愚蠢了。在我们经历了今晚的每一件事以后，这个小小的承诺居然能让我如此忐忑不安，让我说不出话来。

我们开到了查理的房子前。灯亮着，我的卡车还在老地方，一切完全正常。就好像从梦里醒来一样。他把车停下来，但我没动。

“你保证明天在那里？”

“我保证。”

我思索了片刻，然后点了点头。我把夹克脱下来，吸了最后一口香气。

“你可以留着它——你明天可没有夹克可穿。”他提醒我。

我把它递还给他。“我可不想被迫向查理解释。”

“哦，好吧。”他咧嘴一笑。

我迟疑着，把手放到门柄上，努力拖延着动作。

“贝拉？”他用一种不同寻常的语气问道——严肃，但犹豫。

“嗯？”我太过热切地回过头去看着他。

“你能向我保证一件事吗？”

“好的。”我刚说完，立刻为自己这个太过绝对的同意后悔了。假设他要我远离他呢？我没法信守那样的承诺。

“别再独自一人走到森林里去。”  

我完全摸不着头脑，困惑地看着他：“为什么？”

他皱起眉，当他的目光越过我看向窗外时，眼神紧绷着。

“在那里我不总是最危险的生物。让我们离它远远的。”（呃，现在才发现Edward已经暗示过真的有狼人存在了。。。或者说那时候他已经知道山姆变形了。。。）

他声音里的阴郁让我微微颤抖着，但我还是很宽慰。至少，这是个容易遵守的承诺。“如你所愿。”

“我们明天见。”他叹了口气。我知道他想让我现在离开。

“那么，明天见。”我不情愿地打开门。

“贝拉。”我回过头来，他向我侧过身子来，他苍白绝伦的面孔离我只有几英寸远。我的心跳停拍了。

“祝你睡得好。”他说着。他的呼吸轻拂着我的脸，让我一阵晕眩。和沾染在他的夹克上的味道一样，一阵甜腻的香气，却更为浓郁。我眨了眨眼，完全陷入了恍惚中。他已经退回去了。

我一直没法挪动步子，直到我的大脑恢复运作为止。我不得不撑着门框，才笨拙地走下了车。我想我听到了他的轻笑声，但这声音太小了，我不能肯定。

他一直等在那里，直到我走到前门那里，被它绊了一下。然后，我听到了他的引擎安静地加速的声音。我转过身去，看见那辆银色的车消失在转角处。我这才意识，现在很冷。

我机械地掏出钥匙，打开门，走进屋里。

查理从起居室那边喊道：“贝拉？”

“是的，爸爸，是我。”我走进去见他。他正在看篮球赛。

“你回来得很早。”

“是吗？”我很惊讶。

“还不到八点呢，”他告诉我。“你们几个女孩子玩得开心吗？”

“是的——太开心了。”我的脑子高速运转着，试图回想起我原本计划的女孩之夜的所有内容。“她们俩都找到了裙子。”

“你还好吧？”

“我只是有点累，我走了很多路。”

“好吧，也许你应该上去躺着。”他听起来有些担心。我想知道我的脸看起来怎么样。

“我想先给杰西卡打个电话。”

“你刚才不是还跟她在一起吗？”他惊讶地问道。

“是的——但我把我的夹克落在她车里了。我想让她明天带给我。”

“好吧，但先让她有机会回到家。”

“好的。”我同意了。

我走进厨房，精疲力竭地坐进一张椅子里。现在我真的觉得头晕目眩起来。我想知道是不是直到现在我才开始震惊得要休克过去。振作起来，我告诉自己。

电话忽然响了起来，把我吓了一跳。我把听筒从座机上拉下来。

“你好？”我屏住呼吸，问道。

“贝拉？”

“嘿，杰西，我正要打电话给你。”

“你到家了？”她的声音听起来很宽慰……也很惊讶。

“是的。我把夹克落在你车上了——你明天能带给我吗？”

“当然，但要告诉我发生了什么事！”她要求道。（居然都不是疑问句。。。）

“呃，明天吧——三角函数课上，好吗？”

她立刻领会过来。“哦，你爸在那里？”

“是的，没错。”

“好的，我明天拿给你，那么，再见！”我能听出她声音里的急不可耐。

“再见，杰西。”  
我慢慢地走上楼，一种沉重的麻木感笼罩着我的头脑。我把睡觉前的准备工作流程过了一遍，却完全没有注意到自己在做什么。直到我淋浴的时候——水太烫了，灼痛了我的肌肤——我才意识到自己快冻僵了。我剧烈地颤抖了好几分钟，直到喷洒下来的水雾最终让我紧绷的肌肉放松下来。而后我站在喷头下，累得根本不想动，直到热水快要用完为止。

我跌跌绊绊地走出来，安心地用浴巾把自己包裹起来，试图把热水带来的热度保留住，这样那种痛苦的颤抖就不会再发生了。我飞快地穿上睡衣，钻到被子底下，蜷缩成球状，紧紧地抱住自己，好让自己暖和些。一阵轻微的颤栗传遍了我的全身。

我的大脑依然让人头晕眼花地旋转着，充斥着我无法理解的画面，还有一些我挣扎着不去看的画面。一开始根本什么也看不清，但当我渐渐失去意识地时候，几张特定的画面清晰起来。

有三件事我非常肯定。第一，爱德华是个吸血鬼。第二，他的某一部分——我不知道这一部分能起的效力有多大——在渴望着我的鲜血。第三，我毫无保留，无可救药地爱上了他。
9. THEORY




"Can I ask just one more?" I pleaded as Edward accelerated much too
quickly down the quiet street. He didn't seem to be paying any attention
to the road.

He sighed.

"One," he agreed. His lips pressed together into a cautious line.

"Well… you said you knew I hadn't gone into the bookstore, and that I had
gone south. I was just wondering how you knew that."

He looked away, deliberating.

"I thought we were past all the evasiveness," I grumbled.

He almost smiled.

"Fine, then. I followed your scent." He looked at the road, giving me
time to compose my face. I couldn't think of an acceptable response to
that, but I filed it carefully away for future study. I tried to refocus.
I wasn't ready to let him be finished, now that he was finally explaining
things.

"And then you didn't answer one of my first questions…" I stalled.

He looked at me with disapproval. "Which one?"

"How does it work — the mind-reading thing? Can you read anybody's mind,
anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family… ?" I felt silly,
asking for clarification on make-believe.

"That's more than one," he pointed out. I simply intertwined my fingers
and gazed at him, waiting.

"No, it's just me. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly
close. The more familiar someone's… 'voice' is, the farther away I can
hear them. But still, no more than a few miles." He paused thoughtfully.
"It's a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone
talking at once. It's just a hum — a buzzing of voices in the background.
Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear.

"Most of the time I tune it all out — it can be very distracting. And
then it's easier to seem normal" — he frowned as he said the word — "when
I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their
words."

"Why do you think you can't hear me?" I asked curiously.

He looked at me, his eyes enigmatic.

"I don't know," he murmured. "The only guess I have is that maybe your

mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts
are on the AM frequency and I'm only getting FM." He grinned at me,
suddenly amused.

"My mind doesn't work right? I'm a freak?" The words bothered me more
than they should — probably because his speculation hit home. I'd always
suspected as much, and it embarrassed me to have it confirmed.

"I hear voices in my mind and you're worried that you're the freak," he
laughed. "Don't worry, it's just a theory…" His face tightened. "Which
brings us back to you."

I sighed. How to begin?

"Aren't we past all the evasions now?" he reminded me softly.

I looked away from his face for the first time, trying to find words. I
happened to notice the speedometer.

"Holy crow!" I shouted. "Slow down!"

"What's wrong?" He was startled. But the car didn't decelerate.

"You're going a hundred miles an hour!" I was still shouting. I shot a
panicky glance out the window, but it was too dark to see much. The road
was only visible in the long patch of bluish brightness from the
headlights. The forest along both sides of the road was like a black wall
— as hard as a wall of steel if we veered off the road at this speed.

"Relax, Bella." He rolled his eyes, still not slowing.

"Are you trying to kill us?" I demanded.

"We're not going to crash."

I tried to modulate my voice. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

"I always drive like this." He turned to smile crookedly at me.

"Keep your eyes on the road!"

"I've never been in an accident, Bella — I've never even gotten a
ticket." He grinned and tapped his forehead. "Built-in radar detector."

"Very funny." I fumed. "Charlie's a cop, remember? I was raised to abide
by traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a
tree trunk, you can probably just walk away."

"Probably," he agreed with a short, hard laugh. "But you can't." He
sighed, and I watched with relief as the needle gradually drifted toward
eighty. "Happy?"

"Almost."

"I hate driving slow," he muttered.

"This is slow?"

"Enough commentary on my driving," he snapped. "I'm still waiting for
your latest theory."

I bit my lip. He looked down at me, his honey eyes unexpectedly gentle.

"I won't laugh," he promised.

"I'm more afraid that you'll be angry with me."

"Is it that bad?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

He waited. I was looking down at my hands, so I couldn't see his

expression.

"Go ahead." His voice was calm.

"I don't know how to start," I admitted.

"Why don't you start at the beginning… you said you didn't come up with
this on your own."

"No."

"What got you started — a book? A movie?" he probed.

"No — it was Saturday, at the beach." I risked a glance up at his face.
He looked puzzled.

"I ran into an old family friend —Jacob Black," I continued. "His dad and
Charlie have been friends since I was a baby."

He still looked confused.

"His dad is one of the Quileute elders." I watched him carefully. His
confused expression froze in place. "We went for a walk —" I edited all
my scheming out of the story "— and he was telling me some old legends —
trying to scare me, I think. He told me one…" I hesitated.

"Go on," he said.

"About vampires." I realized I was whispering. I couldn't look at his
face now. But I saw his knuckles tighten convulsively on the wheel.

"And you immediately thought of me?" Still calm.

"No. He… mentioned your family."

He was silent, staring at the road.

I was worried suddenly, worried about protecting Jacob.

"He just thought it was a silly superstition," I said quickly. "He didn't
expect me to think anything of it." It didn't seem like enough; I had to
confess. "It was my fault, I forced him to tell me."

"Why?"

"Lauren said something about you — she was trying to provoke me. And an
older boy from the tribe said your family didn't come to the reservation,
only it sounded like he meant something different. So I got Jacob alone
and I tricked it out of him," I admitted, hanging my head.

He startled me by laughing. I glared up at him. He was laughing, but his
eyes were fierce, staring ahead.

"Tricked him how?" he asked.

"I tried to flirt — it worked better than I thought it would." Disbelief
colored my tone as I remembered.

"I'd like to have seen that." He chuckled darkly. "And you accused me of
dazzling people — poor Jacob Black."

I blushed and looked out my window into the night.

"What did you do then?" he asked after a minute.

"I did some research on the Internet."

"And did that convince you?" His voice sounded barely interested. But his
hands were clamped hard onto the steering wheel.

"No. Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then…" I stopped.

"What?"

"I decided it didn't matter," I whispered.

"It didn't matter?" His tone made me look up — I had finally broken
through his carefully composed mask. His face was incredulous, with just
a hint of the anger I'd feared.

"No," I said softly. "It doesn't matter to me what you are."

A hard, mocking edge entered his voice. "You don't care if I'm a monster?
If I'm not human!"

"No."

He was silent, staring straight ahead again. His face was bleak and cold.

"You're angry," I sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," he said, but his tone was as hard as his face. "I'd rather know
what you're thinking — even if what you're thinking is insane."

"So I'm wrong again?" I challenged.

"That's not what I was referring to. 'It doesn't matter'!" he quoted,
gritting his teeth together.

"I'm right?" I gasped.

"Does it matter?"

I took a deep breath.

"Not really." I paused. "But I am curious." My voice, at least, was
composed.

He was suddenly resigned. "What are you curious about?"

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," he answered promptly.

"And how long have you been seventeen?"

His lips twitched as he stared at the road. "A while," he admitted at
last.

"Okay." I smiled, pleased that he was still being honest with me. He
stared down at me with watchful eyes, much as he had before, when he was
worried I would go into shock. I smiled wider in encouragement, and he
frowned.

"Don't laugh — but how can you come out during the daytime?"

He laughed anyway. "Myth."

"Burned by the sun?"

"Myth."

"Sleeping in coffins?"

"Myth." He hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone entered his voice.
"I can't sleep."

It took me a minute to absorb that. "At all?"

"Never," he said, his voice nearly inaudible. He turned to look at me
with a wistful expression. The golden eyes held mine, and I lost my train
of thought. I stared at him until he looked away.

"You haven't asked me the most important question yet." His voice was

hard now, and when he looked at me again his eyes were cold.

I blinked, still dazed. "Which one is that?"

"You aren't concerned about my diet?" he asked sarcastically.

"Oh," I murmured, "that."

"Yes, that." His voice was bleak. "Don't you want to know if I drink
blood?"

I flinched. "Well, Jacob said something about that."

"What did Jacob say?" he asked flatly.

"He said you didn't… hunt people. He said your family wasn't supposed to
be dangerous because you only hunted animals."

"He said we weren't dangerous?" His voice was deeply skeptical.

"Not exactly. He said you weren't supposed to be dangerous. But the
Quileutes still didn't want you on their land, just in case."

He looked forward, but I couldn't tell if he was watching the road or not.

"So was he right? About not hunting people?" I tried to keep my voice as
even as possible.

"The Quileutes have a long memory," he whispered.

I took it as a confirmation.

"Don't let that make you complacent, though," he warned me. "They're
right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous."

"I don't understand."

"We try," he explained slowly. "We're usually very good at what we do.
Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone
with you."

"This is a mistake?" I heard the sadness in my voice, but I didn't know
if he could as well.

"A very dangerous one," he murmured.

We were both silent then. I watched the headlights twist with the curves
of the road. They moved too fast; it didn't look real, it looked like a
video game. I was aware of the time slipping away so quickly, like the
black road beneath us, and I was hideously afraid that I would never have
another chance to be with him like this again — openly, the walls between
us gone for once. His words hinted at an end, and I recoiled from the
idea. I couldn't waste one minute I had with him.

"Tell me more," I asked desperately, not caring what he said, just so I
could hear his voice again.

He looked at me quickly, startled by the change in my tone. "What more do
you want to know?"

"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," I suggested, my voice
still tinged with desperation. I realized my eyes were wet, and I fought
against the grief that was trying to overpower me.

"I don't want to be a monster." His voice was very low.

"But animals aren't enough?"

He paused. "I can't be sure, of course, but I'd compare it to living on
tofu and soy milk; we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke.
It doesn't completely satiate the hunger — or rather thirst. But it keens
us strong enough to resist. Most of the time." His tone turned ominous.

"Sometimes it's more difficult than others."

"Is it very difficult for you now?" I asked.

He sighed. "Yes."

"But you're not hungry now," I said confidently — stating, not asking.

"Why do you think that?"

"Your eyes. I told you I had a theory. I've noticed that people — men in
particular — are crabbier when they're hungry."

He chuckled. "You are observant, aren't you?"

I didn't answer; I just listened to the sound of his laugh, committing it
to memory.

"Were you hunting this weekend, with Emmett?" I asked when it was quiet
again.

"Yes." He paused for a second, as if deciding whether or not to say
something. "I didn't want to leave, but it was necessary. It's a bit
easier to be around you when I'm not thirsty."

"Why didn't you want to leave?"

"It makes me… anxious… to be away from you." His eyes were gentle but
intense, and they seemed to be making my bones turn soft. "I wasn't
joking when I asked you to try not to fall in the ocean or get run over
last Thursday. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. And
after what happened tonight, I'm surprised that you did make it through a
whole weekend unscathed." He shook his head, and then seemed to remember
something. "Well, not totally unscathed."

"What?"

"Your hands," he reminded me. I looked down at my palms, at the
almost-healed scrapes across the heels of my hands. His eyes missed
nothing.

"I fell," I sighed.

"That's what I thought." His lips curved up at the corners. "I suppose,
being you, it could have been much worse — and that possibility tormented
me the entire time I was away. It was a very long three days. I really
got on Emmett's nerves." He smiled ruefully at me.

"Three days? Didn't you just get back today?"

"No, we got back Sunday."

"Then why weren't any of you in school?" I was frustrated, almost angry
as I thought of how much disappointment I had suffered because of his
absence.

"Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't. But I can't go out
in the sunlight — at least, not where anyone can see."

"Why?"

"I'll show you sometime," he promised.

I thought about it for a moment.

"You might have called me," I decided.

He was puzzled. "But I knew you were safe."

"But I didn't know where you were. I —" I hesitated, dropping my eyes.

"What?" His velvety voice was compelling.

"I didn't like it. Not seeing you. It makes me anxious, too." I blushed
to be saying this out loud.

He was quiet. I glanced up, apprehensive, and saw that his expression was
pained.

"Ah," he groaned quietly. "This is wrong."

I couldn't understand his response. "What did I say?"

"Don't you see, Bella? It's one thing for me to make myself miserable,
but a wholly other thing for you to be so involved." He turned his
anguished eyes to the road, his words flowing almost too fast for me to
understand. "I don't want to hear that you feel that way." His voice was
low but urgent. His words cut me. "It's wrong. It's not safe. I'm
dangerous, Bella — please, grasp that."

"No." I tried very hard not to look like a sulky child.

"I'm serious," he growled.

"So am I. I told you, it doesn't matter what you are. It's too late."

His voice whipped out, low and harsh. "Never say that."

I bit my lip and was glad he couldn't know how much that hurt. I stared
out at the road. We must be close now. He was driving much too fast.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice still raw. I just shook my
head, not sure if I could speak. I could feel his gaze on my face, but I
kept my eyes forward.

"Are you crying?" He sounded appalled. I hadn't realized the moisture in
my eyes had brimmed over. I quickly rubbed my hand across my cheek, and
sure enough, traitor tears were there, betraying me.

"No," I said, but my voice cracked.

I saw him reach toward me hesitantly with his right hand, but then he
stopped and placed it slowly back on the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry." His voice burned with regret. I knew he wasn't just
apologizing for the words that had upset me.

The darkness slipped by us in silence.

"Tell me something," he asked after another minute, and I could hear him
struggle to use a lighter tone.

"Yes?"

"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I
couldn't understand your expression — you didn't look that scared, you
looked like you were concentrating very hard on something."

"I was trying to remember how to incapacitate an attacker — you know,
self-defense. I was going to smash his nose into his brain." I thought of
the dark-haired man with a surge of hate.

"You were going to fight them?" This upset him. "Didn't you think about
running?"

"I fall down a lot when I run," I admitted.

"What about screaming for help?"

"I was getting to that part."

He shook his head. "You were right — I'm definitely fighting fate trying
to keep you alive."

I sighed. We were slowing, passing into the boundaries of Forks. It had
taken less than twenty minutes.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" I demanded.

"Yes — I have a paper due, too." He smiled. "I'll save you a seat at
lunch."

It was silly, after everything we'd been through tonight, how that little
promise sent flutters through my stomach, and made me unable to speak.

We were in front of Charlie's house. The lights were on, my truck in its
place, everything utterly normal. It was like waking from a dream. He
stopped the car, but I didn't move.

"Do you promise to be there tomorrow?"

"I promise."

I considered that for a moment, then nodded. I pulled his jacket off,
taking one last whiff.

"You can keep it — you don't have a jacket for tomorrow," he reminded me.

I handed it back to him. "I don't want to have to explain to Charlie."

"Oh, right." He grinned.

I hesitated, my hand on the door handle, trying to prolong the moment.

"Bella?" he asked in a different tone — serious, but hesitant.

"Yes?" I turned back to him too eagerly.

"Will you promise me something?"

"Yes," I said, and instantly regretted my unconditional agreement. What
if he asked me to stay away from him? I couldn't keep that promise.

"Don't go into the woods alone."

I stared at him in blank confusion. "Why?"

He frowned, and his eyes were tight as he stared past me out the window.

"I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there. Let's leave it at
that."

I shuddered slightly at the sudden bleakness in his voice, but I was
relieved. This, at least, was an easy promise to honor. "Whatever you
say."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he sighed, and I knew he wanted me to leave now.

"Tomorrow, then." I opened the door unwillingly.

"Bella?" I turned and he was leaning toward me, his pale, glorious face
just inches from mine. My heart stopped beating.

"Sleep well," he said. His breath blew in my face, stunning me. It was
the same exquisite scent that clung to his jacket, but in a more
concentrated form. I blinked, thoroughly dazed. He leaned away.

I was unable to move until my brain had somewhat unscrambled itself. Then
I stepped out of the car awkwardly, having to use the frame for support.
I thought I heard him chuckle, but the sound was too quiet for me to be
certain.

He waited till I had stumbled to the front door, and then I heard his
engine quietly rev. I turned to watch the silver car disappear around the
corner. I realized it was very cold.

I reached for the key mechanically, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

Charlie called from the living room. "Bella?"

"Yeah, Dad, it's me." I walked in to see him. He was watching a baseball
game.

"You're home early."

"Am I?" I was surprised.

"It's not even eight yet," he told me. "Did you girls have fun?"

"Yeah — it was lots of fun." My head was spinning as I tried to remember
all the way back to the girls' night out I had planned. "They both found
dresses."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm just tired. I did a lot of walking."

"Well, maybe you should go lie down." He sounded concerned. I wondered
what my face looked like.

"I'm just going to call Jessica first."

"Weren't you just with her?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes — but I left my jacket in her car. I want to make sure she brings it
tomorrow."

"Well, give her a chance to get home first."

"Right," I agreed.

I went to the kitchen and fell, exhausted, into a chair. I was really
feeling dizzy now. I wondered if I was going to go into shock after all.
Get a grip, I told myself.

The phone rang suddenly, startling me. I yanked it off the hook.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.

"Bella?"

"Hey, Jess, I was just going to call you."

"You made it home?" Her voice was relieved… and surprised.

"Yes. I left my jacket in your car — could you bring it to me tomorrow?"

"Sure. But tell me what happened!" she demanded.

"Um, tomorrow — in Trig, okay?"

She caught on quickly. "Oh, is your dad there?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow, then. Bye!" I could hear the impatience
in her voice.

"Bye, Jess."

I walked up the stairs slowly, a heavy stupor clouding my mind. I went
through the motions of getting ready for bed without paying any attention
to what I was doing. It wasn't until I was in the shower — the water too
hot, burning my skin — that I realized I was freezing. I shuddered
violently for several minutes before the steaming spray could finally
relax my rigid muscles. Then I stood in the shower, too tired to move,
until the hot water began to run out.

I stumbled out, wrapping myself securely in a towel, trying to hold the
heat from the water in so the aching shivers wouldn't return. I dressed
for bed swiftly and climbed under my quilt, curling into a ball, hugging
myself to keep warm. A few small shudders trembled through me.

My mind still swirled dizzily, full of images I couldn't understand, and
some I fought to repress. Nothing seemed clear at first, but as I fell
gradually closer to unconsciousness, a few certainties became evident.

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a
vampire. Second, there was part of him — and I didn't know how potent
that part might be — that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was
unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.
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八爷°

ZxID：13286336

1247314鲜花 70鸡蛋

等级: 内阁元老
配偶: 四和七
离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
举报 只看该作者 8楼  发表于: 2012-08-14 0
第八章 天使港
第八章 天使港

杰西开车比警长还快，所以我们四点就到了天使港。距我的上一次女孩夜间出行已经有一段时间了，所以在我体内奔涌的雌性激素让我十分亢奋。我们听着烦人的摇滚乐，杰西卡含糊不清地说着和我们一起玩的男孩。杰西卡和迈克的晚餐进行得相当顺利，她希望周六晚上他们可以进展到初吻阶段。我愉快地向自己笑了笑。安吉拉只是随大流地对参加舞会感到高兴，但对埃里克真的没什么兴趣。杰西试图逼供出她喜欢的男生类型，但稍后就被我用一个关于衣服的提问给打断了，便放过了她。安吉拉向我投来感激的一瞥。

天使港是个小巧精致的专坑游客的风景点，比福克斯更漂亮，更有趣。但杰西卡和安吉拉对这里很熟，所以她们根本没在岸边的观光大道浪费时间。杰西径直开向了镇上一家大型百货商店，那里和戴着游客至上的面具的海岸区域只隔着几条街道。

海报上说这是一次半正式舞会，但我们不太能肯定那意味着什么。当我告诉杰西卡和安吉拉在凤凰城我从没参加过舞会的时候，她们两个都大吃一惊，简直难以置信。

“难道你从来都没有跟男朋友或者之类的人去过吗？”我们穿过商店的前门时，杰西卡怀疑地问道。

“真的。”我力求让她相信这一点，不想坦白承认我的跳舞问题。“我从来没有过男朋友，或者类似的人。我很少出去。”

“为什么不出去呢？”杰西卡盘问道。

“没人邀请我。”我如实答道。

她看上去仍在怀疑。“这里有人邀请你出去，”她提醒我，“可你都对他们说不。”我们正在青春时尚区，细看着一排排派对服饰。

“嗯，除了泰勒。”安吉拉默默地更正道。

“不好意思，”我喘着气说道。“你在说什么？”

“泰勒告诉每一个人他将会和你一起去正式舞会。”杰西卡用怀疑的眼神告诉我。

“他说什么？”我的声音听起来像是要窒息了。

“我告诉过你那不是真的。”安吉拉对杰西卡低声抱怨道

我沉默着，依然沉浸在打击之中，然后很快变成了愤怒。但我们已经找到衣架了，现在我们有活干了。

“这就是为什么劳伦不喜欢你。”当我们翻拣着衣服的时候，杰西卡咯咯地笑着对我说。

我把牙咬得咯咯直响。“你觉得，要是我开着我的卡车从他身上碾过去，他会不会不再对那次事故感到内疚？他会不会放弃弥补他的过错甚至回过头来要求我补偿他？”

“也许吧。”杰西窃笑着说。“也许这就是他这样做的原因。”

这里的裙子不算很多，但她们两个都找到了不少值得试穿的衣服。我坐在更衣室里的一张矮脚凳上，靠着那块三面镜，试图控制自己七窍生烟的愤怒。

杰西在两条裙子中挣扎着——一件是长款无肩带的经典黑色礼服，另一件是及膝细肩带的铁蓝色礼服。我推荐她选蓝色那件，为什么不抓住人们的眼球呢？安吉拉选了一条淡粉色裙子，它恰到好处地裹住她纤长的身形，给她浅棕色的头发增添了几分甜美。我毫不吝啬地赞美她们，帮忙把她们不要的衣服挂回衣架上。整个过程比我在家陪蕾妮购物时要短暂和容易得多。我猜想，如果真要说是为什么的话，是因为这里的选择很有限。  

我们又冲去买鞋子和饰品。当她们试穿的时候我只是在一旁看着提供意见，没有心情给自己买东西，尽管我确实需要买新鞋了。女孩之夜带来的亢奋在我回想起对泰勒的厌恶以后已经快要消失殆尽了，给忧郁留下了卷土重来的空间。

“安吉拉？”在她试穿一双粉色的装饰着皮革的高跟鞋时，我迟疑着开了口。她正为有一个足够高的舞伴而欣喜若狂，这样他就能穿高跟鞋了。

杰西卡已经逛到了珠宝柜台，留下我们两个在一起。

“怎么了？”她伸出腿，转过脚踝，想要更好地看看这双鞋。

我的勇气又用完了，只好放弃。“我喜欢这双。”

“我想我可以把它们买下来——虽然除了一条裙子它们什么也不搭。”她若有所思地说着。

“哦，别犹豫——他们正在打折呢。”我鼓励道。她微笑着，盖上那只装着一对看起来更实用的白色鞋子的盒子。

我再次尝试。“呃，安吉拉……”她好奇地抬起头。

“这是不是很正常……对卡伦家的孩子来说，”我的眼睛盯着她的鞋子。“就是，经常不来上学？”我试着让自己的声音显得漠不关心，却悲惨地以失败告终。

“是的，当天气晴好的时候他们会把所有的时间都花在徒步旅行上——甚至包括医生本人。他们都非常喜欢户外活动。”她平静地告诉我，依然在检查她想鞋子。她甚至没有问一个问题，更别提杰西卡会连珠炮似的发问的成百个问题了。我真的开始喜欢安吉拉了。

“哦。”当杰西卡折返回来向我们展示她发现的那件可以搭配她的银色鞋子的人造宝石项链时，我丢下了这个话题。

我们计划去观光大道上的一家意大利小餐厅吃晚饭，但买衣服所花的时间并没有像我们期待的那样长。杰西和安吉拉打算把她们的衣服拿回车里，再走到海港那里。我告诉她们一个小时以后在餐厅里等她们——我想去找一家书店。她们都很乐意陪我去，但我鼓励她们去玩得开心点——她们都不知道当我被书包围的时候我会多么的沉迷。这是我更情愿一个人做的事。她们向车子走去，开心地闲聊着，而我则直奔向杰西所指的方向。

我毫不费力就找到了那家书店，但它并不是我想找的那种书店。橱窗里摆满了水晶球，捕梦网，以及关于精神治疗的书。我甚至不想走进去。透过玻璃，我能看到一个五十岁左右的女人，灰色的头发直直地耷拉在她的背上。她裹着一条六十年代时就已经过时了的裙子，站在柜台后露出热烈欢迎的微笑。我认为我完全可以跳过和她对话这一步。镇上一定还有一家更正常的书店。

我漫步着穿过街道，一心希望自己正在走向闹市区，街上正挤满了下班的车流。我没太留意自己该向哪个方向走去。我正在全力应付着心头的失落。我如此努力地不让自己去想他。而安吉拉所说的……还有更多事情试图击倒我对周六的希望。当我抬头看见别人的银色沃尔沃停在路边时，我感到了一阵更为痛苦的失望，这几乎把我给击垮了。愚蠢，不可靠的吸血鬼，我自忖着。

我重重地踏着步子，向更南的方向走去，走向几家正面是玻璃墙的，看起来比较可靠的商店。但当我走过去的时候，才发现那只是一家维修店和一间闲置的店面。我还是有很多时间，没有必要现在就回过头去找杰西和安吉拉。而且在跟她们碰头以前，我确实需要把自己的情绪调整好。我用手指捋了几下头发，做了好几次深呼吸，然后继续转过街角。  

当我穿过另一条街道时，我开始意识到，我走错方向了。我看到的仅有的几辆车都是往北去的，而这里的建筑看起来更像是仓库。我决定在下一个路口向东走，然后在走了几个街区原地打转，试图碰碰运气，找到另一条走回观光大道的路。

几个男人成群结队地从我正在走向的街角走出来，穿着如此随便，就好像是在下班回家的路上，但他们都脏兮兮的，看上去不像是游客。当他们走到我面前时，我意识到他们没比我大几岁。他们在大声地开着彼此的玩笑，刺耳地大笑着，相互推搡着胳膊。我飞快地躲到人行道内侧，给他们让出路来，很快地走过去，想要从他们身边走过去穿过街角。

“嘿，这儿！”当他们经过的时候，其中一个喊道。他只能是在跟我说话，因为周围根本没有别人。我下意识地抬起头，他们中的两个停了下来，另外两个还在慢慢走着。离我最近的那个体格魁梧的黑发男人看上去才二十出头，似乎就是刚刚说话的那人。他穿着一件敞开着的法兰绒衬衣，里面穿着一件肮脏的T恤衫，牛仔裤破破烂烂的，还穿着凉鞋。他向我迈了一步。

“你好。”纯粹是下意识地，我低声说道。然后我飞快地看向别处，加速向拐角处走去。我能听到他们在我身后高声大笑着。

“嘿，等等！”他们中的一个又在我背后喊道，但我继续向前冲，直到转过街角，才安下心来，松了一口气。我依然能提到从背后传来的他们得意的高笑。

我发现自己站在一条人行道上，它通向几座暗色调的大仓库背后，每一座仓库都有着巨大的供货车卸货用到车库门，因为到了晚上而紧锁着。街道南面没有人行道，只有一道高高围起的，上面安着带刺的铁丝网，保卫着高墙后存放着重要货物的远足。我看出来了，作为一个人生地不熟的访客，我离天使港那边已经相当远了。我意识到，天色越来越黯淡，云层最终又聚拢来了，堆积在西边的地平线上，让日落提前了。东边的天空依然晴朗，却灰蒙蒙的，布满了粉色和橙色的光纹。我把夹克留在了车里，一阵忽然的战栗让我紧紧地把双臂抱在胸前。一辆单厢货车从我身边开过，然后路面又变得空荡荡起来。

天忽然黑得更快了，然后当我越过自己的肩膀看向那片烦人的云彩时，我震惊地注意到两个男人正在我身后二十英尺外的地方悄无声息地向我走来。

他们是刚刚在街角和我擦身而过的那伙人，但不是刚刚和我说话的那个肤色黝黑的人。我立刻转过头，加快了脚步。一阵与天气无关的寒意又一次让我战栗起来。我的钱包用一根皮带斜挎在身上，我把它紧紧地捂在身上，就是那种你能想到的姿势，这样它就不容易被抢走了。我确切地知道我的防狼喷雾在那里——仍在我床底下的登山包里，还没开封。我身上没有多少钱，只有二十几美元。我考虑着“不小心”让我的包掉下去，然后快步走开。但是，我脑后的一个小小的，吓人的声音警告着我，他们可能会是比强盗更糟糕的人。

我专注地聆听着他们安静的脚步声，但比起他们之前发出的嘈杂的噪音，这实在是太安静了点。听起来他们也没有任何加速或者靠近我的意思。呼吸，我不得不提醒自己。你不知道他们是不是真的在跟着你。我继续快步走着，速度快得就差没跑起来，专注地盯着现在离我只有几码远的右手边的转角处。我能听到，他们和我依然保持着原来的距离。一辆蓝色的小车从南边开进这条街道，飞快地从我身边开过。我想过跳到车前把它截住，但我犹豫了。我抑制住自己的冲动，是因为不敢确定自己是不是真的被跟踪了。然后，已经太迟了。    

我走到拐角处，飞快地瞥了一眼，发现那只是通往另一幢建筑物的断头路。我中途改变了主意。我不得不赶紧改变方向，冲过那条狭窄的车道，然后回到人行道上。这条道路在下一个拐角处中断了。那里有一个停下的标志。我把注意力集中在身后微弱的脚步声上，考虑着要不要逃跑。但是，他们听起来在背后更远的地方，而且我知道无论如何他们都会跑过我的。如果我试图跑快些，我一定会被绊到，然后躺倒在地上。脚步声显然是从后面更远的地方传来的。我冒险飞快地向肩膀后扫了一眼，然后宽慰地看到，他们现在在离我大概有四十英尺的距离。但他们都在盯着我。

我似乎永远也不可能走到拐角处。我尽量让自己的步子踏得稳一些，那两个被我远远地抛在后面的男人每一步都走得那么的轻。也许是他们意识到自己吓着我了，所以感到抱歉。我看见两辆车一路向北开进了我正在前往的那个十字路口，我宽慰地松了口气。等我离开这条荒芜的街道的时候，周围一定会有更多人的。我轻快地跳过拐角，感激地叹了口气。

然后脚下一滑，停在那里。

这条街道两旁全是空白的，没有门窗的墙。我能看见在远处两个十字路口以外的地方，有街灯，有车流，还有更多的行人，但那些都太远了。因为在这条街的中部，在西边的建筑物旁闲逛着的，正是那伙人中另外两个。当我僵在人行道上的时候，他们都兴奋地笑着看着我。然后我意识到，我没有被跟踪。

我被堵截了。
我只停顿了一秒，但却像一个世纪一样漫长。我转过身去，向路的另一头冲去。我有种沉重的感觉，知道这只是一次白费力的尝试。我身后的脚步声现在变响了。

“你来啦！”从那个健壮结实的黑发男人口中发出的浑厚的说话声打破这片紧绷的宁静，把我吓了一跳。在逐渐聚拢的黑暗中，他似乎是在向我身后看去。

“是啊。”在我试图飞快地穿过街道时，一个声音从我身后大喊着，又把我吓了一跳。“我们只是绕了点路。”

现在我不得不放慢了脚步。我把自己跟那两个闲逛的人的距离缩短得太快了。我的尖叫相当地响亮，我深吸了一口气，准备让它派上用场。但我的嗓子实在太干了，我不敢肯定我能发出多大的音量。我飞快地把钱包越过头取下来，用一只手紧紧地攥着那条皮带，准备把它交出来，或者在必要的时候当成武器用。

当我警惕着停下脚步的时候，慢慢地向街道走去的时候，那个矮胖的男人在墙那边耸了耸肩。

“离我远点。”我警告着，猜想着自己的声音听起来有力而且无畏。但我对喉咙太干的判断是正确的——音量不够。
“别这样，甜心。”他喊道，然后一片沙哑的笑声又在我背后响起。

我鼓起勇气，分腿站立，试图在恐惧中记起我知道的那些少得可怜的防身术。手腕外侧向上猛刺，有望打断鼻梁或者把它挤进脑袋里。手指向眼窝猛刺——努力向上钩起，把眼珠子剜出来。当然，还有标准的膝撞腹股沟。同一个悲观的声音在我脑海里大声说着，提醒我很有可能根本没有胜算对抗其中的一个，更何况这里有四个人。闭嘴！我赶在恐惧击倒我以前对那个声音下令。如果没人帮我，我根本不可能逃出生天。我试图吞咽了一下，好发出足够响亮的尖叫。  

车灯忽然从转角处飞快地冲过来，那辆车几乎撞上了那个矮胖的男人，逼得他跳回了人行道上。我冲到路上——这辆车要么停下来，要么就得撞上我了。但那辆车出人意料地摆尾急转，骤然停在离我几英尺远的地方，乘客座的门打开了。

“上车。”一个狂怒的声音命令道。

这实在是太惊人了，那种令人窒息的恐惧瞬间消失了，一种安全感席卷了我的全身——我甚至还在街上站着呢——这一切都发生在我听到他的声音的那一刹那。我跳进座位里，猛地用力把我身后的门关上。

车里很黑，即使在门开着的时候也没有任何光线照进来，我只能借着仪表板上发出的红光勉强看清他的脸。他调转车头向北，轮胎发出尖锐的声音。车子加速得太快了，以至于急转着冲向了街道上那些吓呆了的男人。当我们径直开出街道，加速向海湾驶去的时候，我仅能瞥见他们向人行道上逃去。

“系上你的安全带。”他命令道，我这才意识到自己双手紧紧地抓着座位。我迅速服从了命令。安全带扣在一起时发出啪的一声，在黑暗中显得格外响亮。他向左急转，向前推进着，接连闯过了好几个红灯也没停下来。

但眼下我只感受到了一种绝对的安全感，完全不关心我们要去哪里。我凝视着他的脸，深深地感到宽慰，这种宽慰甚至超过了我意外得救的感觉。在微弱的光线里，我细看着他毫无瑕疵的容貌，等着我的呼吸恢复如常，直到我想起来，他脸上的神情是一种残暴的愤怒。

“你还好吧？”我问道，惊讶地发现自己的声音听起来是那么的嘶哑。

“不。”他简略地答道，依然是震怒的口吻。

我沉默地坐着，看着他的脸，他冒火的眼睛却直视着前方，直到车子忽然一个急停。我环顾四周，但外面太黑了，除了公路两旁那些模糊的黑色的树影，什么也看不见。我们已经不在镇上了。

“贝拉？”他问道。他的声音紧绷着，显然在竭力控制着自己。

“怎么了？”我的声音依然沙哑着。我试图不发出声音地清了清嗓子。

“你没事吧？”他还是没有看我，但他脸上的狂怒再明白不过了。

“是的。”我用嘶哑的声音轻轻地说着。

“请让我分神。”他下令。

“对不起，你在说什么？”

他急促地呼了口气。

“随便说些不关痛痒的事，直到我平静下来为止。”他阐释着，闭上眼睛，用拇指和食指按压着鼻梁。

“呃。”我痛苦地搜寻着脑海里的琐事。“明天上课以前我要开车从泰勒.克劳利身上碾过去。”

他依然紧紧地闭着双眼，但他的嘴角微微抽动着。

“为什么？”

“他告诉每一个人说他要带我去参加正式舞会——不管他是有病还是在努力为上次差点杀了我作补偿……嗯，你记得的，不知怎的他认为正式舞会是这样做的良好时机。所以我估计我也危害一次他的性命的话，我们俩就扯平了，他就不必再努力作补偿了。我不需要敌人，如果他肯放过我的话，也许劳伦会放弃和我做对。不过，也许我得完全摧毁他那辆森特拉。如果他没有车的话，他就没法带任何人去正式舞会了……”我不停地唠叨着。

“我听到过这些传言。”他的声音听起来镇静些了。

“真的？”我难以置信地问道，早先的怒火再次熊熊燃烧起来。“要是他从脖子以下高位截瘫，他同样也没法去参加正式舞会了。”我喃喃低语着，推敲着我的计划。

爱德华叹息着，终于睁开了眼睛。

“好些了？”

“完全没有。”

我等待着，但他不再说话了。他把头靠在椅背上，盯着车里的天花板。他的神情很坚毅。

“怎么回事？”我的声音低得像在耳边低语。

“有时候我会很难控制住自己的脾气，贝拉。”他也低语道，当他看向窗外的时候，眼睛眯成了两条缝。“但这对我不会有任何好处，即使我掉头回去，找到那些……”他没把话说完，便移开了视线，再次挣扎了许久，才控制住自己的怒火。“至少，”他继续说道。“这是我努力用力说服自己的借口。”

“哦。”这个词显然不够恰当，但我想不出更好的回答。

我们又一次在沉默中坐着。我瞥了一眼仪表板上的时钟。已经六点半了。

“杰西卡和安吉拉会担心的。”我低声说着。“我本来应该去跟她们碰头的。”

他一声不响地发动了引擎，流畅地掉转车头，加速冲回镇里去。我们几乎是立刻就开回了有路灯照明的地方，但车速还是太快，迂回着穿过观光大道上缓缓开着的车流里的空隙。他把车平行于路边停了下来，停在了一个我觉得对这辆沃尔沃来说有点太小的空位上，但他毫不费力地只一次就把车停好了。我向窗外望去，看见了拉.贝拉餐厅的灯光。杰西卡和安吉拉正从店里走出来，焦急地向和我们相反的方向走去。

“你怎么会知道上哪儿……？”我开了口，但随后只是摇头。我听到门开的声音，回头去，却看到他正在下车。

“你要做什么？”我问道。

“我要带你去吃晚餐。”他轻轻地微笑着，眼神却依然坚毅。他走出车外，把门关上。我解开安全带，也匆匆忙忙地下了车。他在人行道上等着我。

在我开口以前，他说话了：“在我又想去追捕他们以前，去把杰西卡和安吉拉叫住。要是我再碰上你另一些朋友，我不认为我还能管得住自己。”

他话语里的威胁让我不寒而栗。

“杰西！安吉拉！”我在她们背后大喊着，当她们回过头来时，我用力挥着手。她们转身向我冲回来，但在看清和我站在一起的人以后，脸上显而易见的宽慰瞬间变成了惊讶。她们在离我只有几英尺远的地方踌躇着。

“你上哪儿去了？”杰西卡的声音里充满了怀疑。

“我迷路了。”我羞怯地承认道。“然后我碰见了爱德华。”我向他做了个手势。

“我可以加入你们吗？”他用丝绸一样柔软的，让人无法抗拒的声音问道。我能从她们脸上吃惊的神情看出，此前他从未对她们施展过他的天赋。

“唔……当然。”杰西卡喘息着说。

“呃，事实上，贝拉，在我们等待的时候我们就吃过了——抱歉。”安吉拉坦白道。

“没关系——我不饿。”我耸耸肩。

“我觉得你最好吃点东西。”爱德华的声音很低，却充满了威严。他抬头看着杰西卡，稍稍提高了音量。“你介意我今晚开车送贝拉回家吗？这样你就不用在她吃东西的时候等着了。”

“嗯，没问题，我猜……”她咬住唇，试图从我的表情看出哪个才是我想要的。我向她使了个眼色。我什么也不想要，只想和我永远的救星待在一起。我有太多太多的问题要问了，但只有在我们独处的时候，我才能轰炸他。

“好吧。”安吉拉比杰西卡反应得更快。“明天见，贝拉……爱德华。”她抓住杰西卡的手，拖着她向车子走去。我看见她的车子离这里不远，停在了第一街上。当她们上车的时候，杰西回过头来向我挥手，她的脸上充满了好奇的渴望。我也向她们挥手，一直等到她们把车开走，才转过身去面对他。  

“老实说，我一点儿也不饿。”我坚持说着，抬起头端详着他的脸。他的神情有些难以捉摸。

“就当是为了我。”

他向餐厅的大门走去，推开门，用固执的神情把门撑住。显然，已经没商量了。我顺从地叹了口气，从他身旁走过，进了餐厅。

餐厅里并不拥挤——现在是天使港的淡季。店主是女的，当她审视着爱德华的时候，我读出了她眼里的神情。她热情地有些过火地欢迎他的光临。我吃惊地发现，这居然会让我如此心烦意乱。她比我高几英寸，漂亮得简直违背了自然规律。

“有两个人的位置吗？”不管他是有意的还是无意的，他的声音都太诱人了。我看见她的眼睛飞快地瞥了我一眼，然后移开了。显然她对我的相貌平平，还有爱德华出于谨慎，在我们之间保持着的毫无身体接触的距离感到相当地满意。她把我们带到用餐区里人最多的地方的正中，一张足以坐下四个人的桌子旁。

我正要坐下，爱德华却向摇了摇头。

“也许换个更私密些的地方？”他安静地向店主坚持着。我不太敢肯定，但看上去他熟练地给了她一点小费。我从没见过有人拒绝一个座位，除了在老电影里。

“当然。”她听起来和我一样吃惊。她转身领着我们绕过一堵隔墙，走到小小的一圈卡座前——所有的卡座都是空的。“这里怎么样？”

“好极了。”他熠熠生辉的笑容一闪而过，立刻把她迷住了。

“呃。”——她摇了摇头，眨着眼睛——“你的侍者马上就到。”她步伐不稳地走开了。

“你真的不应该对别人这样做。”我批评道。“这太不公平了。”

“做什么？”

“像那样迷得她们晕头转向——她现在可能正在厨房里大口大口地喘气呢。”

他似乎很困惑。

“哦，得了吧。”我怀疑地说。“你必须知道你会对别人造成的影响。”

他把头偏向一侧，眼里充满了好奇。“我迷得别人晕头转向？”

“你没注意到吗？你以为每个人都能那么轻易地为所欲为吗？”

他不理会我的问题。“我迷得你晕头转向了吗？”

“经常如此。”我承认道。

然后，我们的侍者到了，她一脸的期待。女店主显然已经躲到幕后去上菜了，但这个新来的女孩看上去一点儿也不失望。她把那股短短的黑发拨到耳后，热情得有些过分地笑着。

“你好，我的名字是安博，今晚我将是您的侍者。您想喝点什么吗？”我不会看错的，她只对他一个人说话。

他看着我。

“我要一杯可乐。”听起来像是个疑问句。

“两杯可乐。”他说道。

“马上为您送到。”她用另一个火辣辣的微笑向他保证道。但他没看见。他在看着我。

“怎么了？”等她走开以后，我问道。

他的目光停留在我的脸上：“你感觉怎么样？”

“我很好。”我回答道，对他的紧张吃惊不已。

“你不觉得眩晕，恶心，寒冷……吗？”

“我应该这样觉得吗？”

我的口气里充满了迷惑，这让他轻笑起来。

“好吧，我本来还在等着你从震惊里回过神来呢。”他歪扭着脸，露出一个完美的弯弯的微笑。

“我不觉得会发生那样的事。”直到我能再次顺畅地呼吸，我才说道。“我通常很擅长忘掉不愉快的事。”

“还是一样，只要你能吃点甜食和食物进去，我会感觉好些。”

就好像得到暗示一样，那个女招待带着我们的饮料和一篮烘焙面包卷出现了。当她把这些东西摆上桌的时候，她背对着我站着。

“您准备好点餐了吗？”她问爱德华。

“贝拉？”他问道。她极不情愿地转过身来面向我。
我点了我在菜单上看到的第一样东西。“呃……我要蘑菇馄饨。”

“你呢？”她转身微笑着看着他。

“不用了。”他说道。当然不用了。

“如果你改变主意的话，让我知道。”那个羞答答的微笑依然恰当地挂在那里，但他根本就没在看她，她不高兴地走了。

“喝吧。”他下令道。

我顺从地啜饮着我的苏打水，然后大口喝了起来。我惊讶地发现原来我是这么的渴。当他把他那瓶推给我的时候，我才意识到我已经喝完一整瓶了。

“谢谢。”我低声说着，还是觉得很渴。从冰镇苏打水上传来的寒意传遍了我的脸颊，我不禁打了个哆嗦。

“你冷吗？”

“只是可乐的缘故。”我解释道，又打了个冷战。

“你没带夹克外套吗？”他的声音里充满了不赞成。

“带了。”我看着身旁那张空空的长椅。“哦——我把它落在杰西卡的车上了。”我这才想起来。

爱德华开始把他的夹克外套脱下来。我忽然意识到，我一次也没有注意过他的穿着——不只是今晚，从来都是。我只是没法让自己的视线从他脸上移开。现在，我强迫自己去看他的衣着，专心地看。他正在脱下来的是一件浅米黄色的皮夹克，里面穿着一件象牙白色的高领毛衣。这件毛衣紧贴着他，强调着他的胸膛是那么的强壮。

他把夹克递给我，打断了我含情脉脉的凝视。

“谢谢。”我又说了一遍，这才把胳膊套进他的夹克里。这件衣服很凉——就像是我那件一直挂在通风的走廊里的夹克，早上第一次穿上时的感觉。我又哆嗦了一下。这衣服闻起来很不错。我深吸了一口气，想要分辨出这股甜腻的香气是什么。闻起来不像是古龙水的味道。袖子太长了，我把袖子推上去，好让我的双手解放出来。

“这种蓝色和你的肌肤很是相衬。”他看着我说道。我很惊讶，只得低下了头，理所当然地脸红了。

他把那一篮面包推到我面前。

“真的，我根本就没受到打击。”我反对道。

“你本来应该会的——正常人都会受到打击。你看上去不为所动。”他似乎有些动摇。他凝视着我的眼睛。而我看到了，他的眼睛是那么的明亮，比我见过的任何一次都要更明亮，是一种金色的奶糖的颜色。

“和你在一起让我感到很安全。”我坦白道，又一次被他催眠着说出了实话。

“这比我计划的还有复杂。”他低声自言自语道。

我一边拿起一个烘焙面包卷，开始一小口一小口地把它吃完，一边估摸他的表情。我想知道什么时候才适合向他提问。

“当你的眼睛如此明亮的时候，你的心情通常都会比较好。”我评价道，试图把他的注意力从那个让他皱着眉闷闷不乐的想法里转移过来。

他吃惊地看着我。“什么？”

“当你的眼睛是黑色的时候，你总要更暴躁些——我想是这样的。”我继续说道。“我有一套关于这个的理论。”

他的眼睛眯缝起来。“又有理论了？”

“嗯哼。”我咬了一小口面包，试图让自己的表情显得淡漠些。

“我希望你这次能更有创造性些……或者，你还在窃取漫画书里的理论吗？”他淡淡的笑容里充满了嘲讽，但他的眼睛依然紧绷着。

“嗯，不是，我不是从漫画书里看到的，但我也不是自己想出来的。”我供认道。

“还有呢？”他催促着。  

但这时候，那个女招待又绕过那堵隔墙，拿着我的食物大步走过来。我意识到我们两个都无意识地从桌子上向对方靠过去，因为当她走过来的时候我们都退回去坐直了身子。她把菜放到我面前——看起来相当地美味——然后飞快地转过身去面向爱德华。

“您改变主意了吗？”她问道。“真的没有什么我能为您效劳的吗？”我已经开始想象她话里的双重含义了。

“不用了，谢谢。不过，最好再拿点苏打水过来。”他用纤长雪白的手向我面前的空杯子做了个手势。

“没问题。”她拿上那两个空杯子，走开了。

“你刚刚说到？”他问道。

“我会在车里告诉你的。如果……”我停了下来。

“还有条件？”他挑起一侧眉头，声音里充满了不祥的预兆。

“当然，我确实有几个问题要问。”

“当然。”

那个女招待又拿着两瓶可乐回来了。这次她放下东西，什么也没说，又离开了。

我喝了一小口可乐。

“好了，继续说。”他敦促着我，声音依然紧绷着。

我从最容易的那个问起。或者只有我这样认为。“为什么你会在天使港？”

他低下头，慢慢地把放在桌上的两只大手叠到一起。他的眼睛从睫毛下飞快地看了我一眼，脸上露出一丝坏笑。

“下一个。”

“但这是最容易的一个。”我反对。

“下一个。”他重复着。

我挫败地低下头。我拆开我的那套银餐具，拿出叉子，小心地戳起一个馄饨。我慢慢地把它放到嘴里，依然低着头，一边咀嚼一边思考着。蘑菇很好吃。我咽下去，又喝了一口可乐，这才抬起头来。

“好吧，那么。”我盯着他，慢慢地说着。“比方说，当然只是假设，那么……某个人……能知道别人心里在想什么，你知道的，读心——但总有几个例外。”

“只有一个例外。”他更正道。“假设。”

“好吧，只有一个例外，那么。”我对他的合作感到很震惊，但我力图表现得不经意些。

“这到底是怎么做到的？有没有限制条件？那个某人……怎么能够……在恰当的时间找到另一个人？他是怎么知道她陷入困境的？”我想知道自己这些费解的问题有没有意义。

“只是假设？”他问道。

“当然。”

“好吧，如果……那个某人……”

“让我们称他为‘乔’。”我提议道。

他挖苦地一笑。“乔，那么。如果乔有留心注意的话，时间也许就不需要掐得那么准了。”他摇了摇头，转着眼睛。“只有你才能在这么小的城镇里遇上麻烦。你知道，你可能打破了他们十年来的犯罪率统计数据。”

“我们正在谈一个假设的案例。”我冷淡地提醒他。

他冲我大笑起来，眼里盈满了暖意。

“好吧，我们确实是。”他赞同道。“我们可以称你为‘简’吗？”

“你到底是怎么知道的？”我再也没法抑制住自己的情绪，问道。我意识到自己又在向他侧过身去了。  

他似乎动摇了，为心底的某个两难选择左右为难着。他的目光紧紧地锁住了我的双眼，我猜他正在抉择，是否要把真相告诉我。

“你可以信任我，你知道的。”我低声说着。我向前伸出手，不假思索地，想要触碰他交叠着的双手，但他不着痕迹地把手移开了，我只好把手收回来。

“我不知道我还有没有别的选择。”他的声音几近耳语。“我错了——你比我所钦佩的还要善于观察。”

“我觉得你通常都是正确的。”

“我曾经是。”他又摇了摇头。“同样，在另一件事上我也错看你了。你不是一块吸引意外的吸铁石——这个定义太宽泛了。你简直是一块专吸灾难的吸铁石。如果方圆十英里内有任何危险物，它都一定会找到你的。”

“那你把自己归进危险物里了？”我猜测着。

他的脸立刻变得冷冰冰的，毫无表情。“毫无疑问。”

我又一次把手伸过桌子——无视他再次不着痕迹地把手拉回去的努力——羞怯地用指尖触到了他的手背。他的肌肤冰冷坚硬，好像石头一样。

“谢谢。”我的声音里盈满了热切的感激之情。“这是第二次了。”

他的表情柔和起来。“别让我们有机会试第三次，好吗？”

我皱起眉，但还是点了点头。他把手从我的指尖下移开，两只手都放到了桌子下。但他向我靠了过来。

“我一路跟着你到天使港。”他承认着，完全收不住话头。“在这之前我从没这样努力地保护过某个特定的人。而且这比我原本相信的还要困难重重。但也可能是因为你，才会这样困难。一般人就算在这里耗上一整天也不会遇上那么多的灾难。”他停了下来。我想知道他跟踪我会不会让我觉得困扰。但相反的，我却感到了一阵奇特的满足感。他注视着我，也许是在怀疑着为什么我的唇瓣会弯起来，情不自禁地微笑着。

“你有没有想过，也许第一次的时候我就应该气数已尽了，因为那辆货车，而你却改变了命运的走向？”我推测着，想要转移自己的注意力。

“那不是第一次。”他说着，声音小得几乎听不见。我吃惊地看着他，他却低着头。“在我第一次遇见你的时候，你就在劫难逃了。”

他的话让我感到一阵恐惧的战栗，关于第一天的记忆生生闯入脑海：他狂暴的，黑色的眼睛怒视着……但是，当我意识到他在的时候，那股压倒性的安全感阻止了我不堪回首的回忆。这时候他抬起头来，看着我的眼睛，却发现我的眼里没有半点恐惧的痕迹。

“你还记得吗？”他问道，天使一样的容颜有些黯然。

“是的。”我非常平静。

“你居然还敢坐在这里。”他的声音里有点难以置信的味道。他挑起一侧眉头。

“是啊，我还能坐在这里……是因为你。”我顿了顿。“是因为今天，不知怎的你知道怎么找到我……？”我催促着。

他紧紧地闭着嘴唇，眯缝起眼睛注视着我，又开始踌躇了。他的眼睛飞快地掠过我依然满满当当的盘子，然后看向我。

“你吃，我说。”他讨价还价道。  

我飞快地舀起一个馄饨，放进嘴里。

“这实际操作起来更困难些——我是说跟着你。通常我可以轻而易举地找到别人，即使我之前从未读过他们的心。”他担忧地看着我，我感觉到自己僵住了。我让自己吞咽了一下，然后戳起另一个馄饨，丢进嘴里。

“我一直监视着杰西卡，但没太用心——就像我说的，只有你才会在天使港遇到麻烦——刚开始我没注意到你脱离了队伍，开始一个人闲逛。然后，当我意识到你没跟她在一起的时候，我赶到在她脑海里看到的那家书店找你。我敢说你根本就没进去，向南走了……我知道你很快就会掉头回来的。所以我只是等着你，随意地搜索着街道上的人的想法——看看有没有人注意到你，这样我就能知道你在哪里了。我没有理由担心的……但我奇怪地不安着……”他陷入了沉思，他的目光穿过我，看着我想象不出来的事物。

“我开始兜着圈子，仍在……听着。太阳快要下山了，那样我就能下车徒步跟着你了。然后——”他停了下来，突如其来的狂怒让他咬紧了牙关。他竭力让自己冷静下来。

“然后怎么了？”我低声问道。他的视线越过我的头顶，继续说道。

“我听到了他们在想什么。”他咆哮着，上唇微微卷曲起来，露出了牙齿。“我在他的脑海里看到了你的脸。”他忽然向前倾侧，一只胳膊出现在桌子上。他用手掌覆住了自己的眼睛。这个动作如此迅速，把我吓了一跳。

“这实在很……艰难——你想象不到这对我来说有多难——只是把你带走，留下他们……的性命。”他的声音掩在了手臂之下。“我本来可以让你跟杰西卡和安吉拉一起走的，但我担心如果你让我一个人待着，我会回去找他们。”他用几近耳语的声音承认道。

我静静地坐着，一片茫然，我的思绪完全混乱了。我把双手交叠在膝盖上，虚弱地靠着椅背。他依然把脸藏在手掌之下，一动不动，就好像他是由和他的肌肤相似的石头雕刻出来的一样。

最终，他抬起头，他的眼睛搜寻着我的视线，眼里充满了他的疑问。

“你准备好回家了吗？”他问道。

“我准备好离开了。”我更正道，因为我们将要一起度过开车回家的那一小时而过度兴奋着。我还没准备好跟他说再见。

那个女招待出现了，就好像她被召唤了一样。或者她根本就一直在看着。

“有什么能为您效劳的吗？”她问爱德华。

“我们准备结账，谢谢。”他的声音静静的，却有些粗暴，依然反映着我们谈话的气氛。这似乎让她困惑了。他抬起头，等待着。

“好——好的。”她结结巴巴地说。“这是您的账单。”她从黑色围裙前面的口袋里拿出一个小小的皮夹子，递给他。

他手里已经拿着一张钞票了。他把它夹进夹子里，立刻递还给她。

“不用找了。”他微笑着，然后站了起来。我笨拙地站了起来。

她又一次向他充满魅力的一笑。“祝你晚上过得愉快。”

当他感谢她的时候，他的目光根本没从我身上移开。我强忍着没笑出来。

他跟在我身后向门口走去，依然小心翼翼地不让自己碰到我。我想起了杰西卡说的她和迈克的关系，他们已经快到初吻阶段了。我叹了口气。爱德华似乎听见了，他好奇地低下头看我。我注视着人行道，对他似乎不能知道我的想法感到欣慰。

他打开了乘客座的门，当我上车的时候他扶住门，然后在我身后轻轻地把门关上了。我看着他从车前走过，又一次惊讶于他惊人的优雅。也许我从现在开始就得习惯这一点了——但我还习惯。我有种感觉，爱德华不是那种能让人习以为常的人。

一坐进车里，他就发动了引擎，把暖气开到最大。现在变得很冷了，我猜想好天气已经到头了。但是，穿着他的夹克让我很温暖，趁他不注意的时候我总是偷偷地嗅着衣服上的香气。

爱德华把车开进车流里，显然看都没看，就娴熟地转弯向高速公路开去。

“现在，”他意味深长地说道。“轮到你了。”  
8. PORT ANGELES




Jess drove faster than the Chief, so we made it to Port Angeles by four.
It had been a while since I'd had a girls' night out, and the estrogen
rush was invigorating. We listened to whiny rock songs while Jessica
jabbered on about the boys we hung out with. Jessica's dinner with Mike
had gone very well, and she was hoping that by Saturday night they would

have progressed to the first-kiss stage. I smiled to myself, pleased.
Angela was passively happy to be going to the dance, but not really
interested in Eric. Jess tried to get her to confess who her type was,
but I interrupted with a question about dresses after a bit, to spare
her. Angela threw a grateful glance my way.

Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist trap, much more polished and
quaint than Forks. But Jessica and Angela knew it well, so they didn't
plan to waste time on the picturesque boardwalk by the bay. Jess drove
straight to the one big department store in town, which was a few streets
in from the bay area's visitor-friendly face.

The dance was billed as semiformal, and we weren't exactly sure what that
meant. Both Jessica and Angela seemed surprised and almost disbelieving
when I told them I'd never been to a dance in Phoenix.

"Didn't you ever go with a boyfriend or something?" Jess asked dubiously
as we walked through the front doors of the store.

"Really," I tried to convince her, not wanting to confess my dancing
problems. "I've never had a boyfriend or anything close. I didn't go out
much."

"Why not?" Jessica demanded.

"No one asked me," I answered honestly.

She looked skeptical. "People ask you out here," she reminded me, "and
you tell them no." We were in the juniors' section now, scanning the
racks for dress-up clothes.

"Well, except for Tyler," Angela amended quietly.

"Excuse me?" I gasped. "What did you say?"

"Tyler told everyone he's taking you to prom," Jessica informed me with
suspicious eyes.

"He said what?" I sounded like I was choking.

"I told you it wasn't true," Angela murmured to Jessica.

I was silent, still lost in shock that was quickly turning to irritation.
But we had found the dress racks, and now we had work to do.

"That's why Lauren doesn't like you," Jessica giggled while we pawed
through the clothes.

I ground my teeth. "Do you think that if I ran him over with my truck he
would stop feeling guilty about the accident? That he might give up on
making amends and call it even?"

"Maybe," Jess snickered. '"If that's why he's doing this."

The dress selection wasn't large, but both of them found a few things to
try on. I sat on a low chair just inside the dressing room, by the
three-way mirror, trying to control my fuming.

Jess was torn between two — one a long, strapless, basic black number,
the other a knee-length electric blue with spaghetti straps. I encouraged
her to go with the blue; why not play up the eyes? Angela chose a pale
pink dress that draped around her tall frame nicely and brought out honey
tints in her light brown hair. I complimented them both generously and
helped by returning the rejects to their racks. The whole process was
much shorter and easier than similar trips I'd taken with Renée at home.
I guess there was something to be said for limited choices.

We headed over to shoes and accessories. While they tried things on I
merely watched and critiqued, not in the mood to shop for myself, though
I did need new shoes. The girls'-night high was wearing off in the wake
of my annoyance at Tyler, leaving room for the gloom to move back in.

"Angela?" I began, hesitant, while she was trying on a pair of pink
strappy heels — she was overjoyed to have a date tall enough that she
could wear high heels at all.

Jessica had drifted to the jewelry counter and we were alone.

"Yes?" She held her leg out, twisting her ankle to get a better view of
the shoe.

I chickened out. "I like those."

"I think I'll get them — though they'll never match anything but the one
dress," she mused.

"Oh, go ahead — they're on sale," I encouraged. She smiled, putting the
lid back on a box that contained more practical-looking off-white shoes.

I tried again. "Um, Angela…" She looked up curiously.

"Is it normal for the… Cullens" — I kept my eyes on the shoes — "to be
out of school a lot?" I failed miserably in my attempt to sound
nonchalant.

"Yes, when the weather is good they go backpacking all the time — even
the doctor. They're all real outdoorsy," she told me quietly, examining
her shoes, too. She didn't ask one question, let alone the hundreds that
Jessica would have unleashed. I was beginning to really like Angela.

"Oh." I let the subject drop as Jessica returned to show us the
rhinestone jewelry she'd found to match her silver shoes.

We planned to go to dinner at a little Italian restaurant on the
boardwalk, but the dress shopping hadn't taken as long as we'd expected.
Jess and Angela were going to take their clothes back to the car and then
walk down to the bay. I told them I would meet them at the restaurant in
an hour — I wanted to look for a bookstore. They were both willing to
come with me, but I encouraged them to go have fun — they didn't know how
preoccupied I could get when surrounded by books; it was something I
preferred to do alone. They walked off to the car chattering happily, and
I headed in the direction Jess pointed out.

I had no trouble finding the bookstore, but it wasn't what I was looking
for. The windows were full of crystals, dream-catchers, and books about
spiritual healing. I didn't even go inside. Through the glass I could see
a fifty-year-old woman with long, gray hair worn straight down her back,
clad in a dress right out of the sixties, smiling welcomingly from behind
the counter. I decided that was one conversation I could skip. There had
to be a normal bookstore in town.

I meandered through the streets, which were filling up with
end-of-the-workday traffic, and hoped I was headed toward downtown. I
wasn't paying as much attention as I should to where I was going; I was
wrestling with despair. I was trying so hard not to think about him, and
what Angela had said… and more than anything trying to beat down my hopes
for Saturday, fearing a disappointment more painful than the rest, when I
looked up to see someone's silver Volvo parked along the street and it
all came crashing down on me. Stupid, unreliable vampire, I thought to
myself.

I stomped along in a southerly direction, toward some glass-fronted shops
that looked promising. But when I got to them, they were just a repair
shop and a vacant space. I still had too much time to go looking for Jess
and Angela yet, and I definitely needed to get my mood in hand before I
met back up with them. I ran my fingers through my hair a couple of times
and took some deep breaths before I continued around the corner.

I started to realize, as I crossed another road, that I was going the
wrong direction. The little foot traffic I had seen was going north, and
it looked like the buildings here were mostly warehouses. I decided to
turn east at the next corner, and then loop around after a few blocks and
try my luck on a different street on my way back to the boardwalk.

A group of four men turned around the corner I was heading for, dressed
too casually to be heading home from the office, but they were too grimy
to be tourists. As they approached me, I realized they weren't too many
years older than I was. They were joking loudly among themselves,
laughing raucously and punching each other's arms. I scooted as far to
the inside of the sidewalk as I could to give them room, walking swiftly,
looking past them to the corner.

"Hey, there!" one of them called as they passed, and he had to be talking
to me since no one else was around. I glanced up automatically. Two of
them had paused, the other two were slowing. The closest, a heavyset,
dark-haired man in his early twenties, seemed to be the one who had
spoken. He was wearing a flannel shirt open over a dirty t-shirt, cut-off
jeans, and sandals. He took half a step toward me.

"Hello," I mumbled, a knee-jerk reaction. Then I quickly looked away and
walked faster toward the corner. I could hear them laughing at full
volume behind me.

"Hey, wait!" one of them called after me again, but I kept my head down
and rounded the corner with a sigh of relief. I could still hear them
chortling behind me.

I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several
somber-colored warehouses, each with large bay doors for unloading
trucks, padlocked for the night. The south side of the street had no
sidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire protecting some
kind of engine parts storage yard. I'd wandered far past the part of Port
Angeles that I, as a guest, was intended to see. It was getting dark, I
realized, the clouds finally returning, piling up on the western horizon,
creating an early sunset. The eastern sky was still clear, but graying,
shot through with streaks of pink and orange. I'd left my jacket in the
car, and a sudden shiver made me cross my arms tightly across my chest. A
single van passed me, and then the road was empty.

The sky suddenly darkened further, and, as I looked over my shoulder to
glare at the offending cloud, I realized with a shock that two men were
walking quietly twenty feet behind me.

They were from the same group I'd passed at the corner, though neither
was the dark one who'd spoken to me. I turned my head forward at once,
quickening my pace. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather made
me shiver again. My purse was on a shoulder strap and I had it slung
across my body, the way you were supposed to wear it so it wouldn't get
snatched. I knew exactly where my pepper spray was — still in my duffle
bag under the bed, never unpacked. I didn't have much money with me, just
a twenty and some ones, and I thought about "accidentally" dropping my
bag and walking away. But a small, frightened voice in the back of my
mind warned me that they might be something worse than thieves.

I listened intently to their quiet footsteps, which were much too quiet
when compared to the boisterous noise they'd been making earlier, and it
didn't sound like they were speeding up, or getting any closer to me.
Breathe, I had to remind myself. You don't know they're following you. I
continued to walk as quickly as I could without actually running,
focusing on the right-hand turn that was only a few yards away from me
now. I could hear them, staying as far back as they'd been before. A blue
car turned onto the street from the south and drove quickly past me. I
thought of jumping out in front of it, but I hesitated, inhibited, unsure
that I was really being pursued, and then it was too late.

I reached the corner, but a swift glance revealed that it was only a
blind drive to the back of another building. I was half-turned in
anticipation; I had to hurriedly correct and dash across the narrow
drive, back to the sidewalk. The street ended at the next corner, where
there was a stop sign. I concentrated on the faint footsteps behind me,
deciding whether or not to run. They sounded farther back, though, and I
knew they could outrun me in any case. I was sure to trip and go
sprawling if I tried to go any faster. The footfalls were definitely
farther back. I risked a quick glance over my shoulder, and they were
maybe forty feet back now, I saw with relief. But they were both staring
at me.

It seemed to take forever for me to get to the corner. I kept my pace
steady, the men behind me falling ever so slightly farther behind with
every step. Maybe they realized they had scared me and were sorry. I saw
two cars going north pass the intersection I was heading for, and I
exhaled in relief. There would be more people around once I got off this
deserted street. I skipped around the corner with a grateful sigh.

And skidded to a stop.

The street was lined on both sides by blank, doorless, windowless walls.
I could see in the distance, two intersections down, streetlamps, cars,
and more pedestrians, but they were all too far away. Because lounging
against the western building, midway down the street, were the other two
men from the group, both watching with excited smiles as I froze dead on
the sidewalk. I realized then that I wasn't being followed.

I was being herded.

I paused for only a second, but it felt like a very long time. I turned
then and darted to the other side of the road. I had a sinking feeling
that it was a wasted attempt. The footsteps behind me were louder now.

"There you are!" The booming voice of the stocky, dark-haired man
shattered the intense quiet and made me jump. In the gathering darkness,
it seemed like he was looking past me.

"Yeah," a voice called loudly from behind me, making me jump again as I
tried to hurry down the street. "We just took a little detour."

My steps had to slow now. I was closing the distance between myself and
the lounging pair too quickly. I had a good loud scream, and I sucked in
air, preparing to use it, but my throat was so dry I wasn't sure how much
volume I could manage. With a quick movement I slipped my purse over my
head, gripping the strap with one hand, ready to surrender it or use it
as weapon as need demanded.

The thickset man shrugged away from the wall as I warily came to a stop,
and walked slowly into the street.

"Stay away from me," I warned in a voice that was supposed to sound
strong and fearless. But I was right about the dry throat — no volume.

"Don't be like that, sugar," he called, and the raucous laughter started
again behind me.

I braced myself, feet apart, trying to remember through my panic what
little self-defense I knew. Heel of the hand thrust upward, hopefully
breaking the nose or shoving it into the brain. Finger through the eye
socket — try to hook around and pop the eye out. And the standard knee to
the groin, of course. That same pessimistic voice in my mind spoke up
then, reminding me that I probably wouldn't have a chance against one of
them, and there were four. Shut up! I commanded the voice before terror
could incapacitate me. I wasn't going out without taking someone with me.
I tried to swallow so I could build up a decent scream.

Headlights suddenly flew around the corner, the car almost hitting the
stocky one, forcing him to jump back toward the sidewalk. I dove into the
road — this car was going to stop, or have to hit me. But the silver car
unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger
door open just a few feet from me.

"Get in," a furious voice commanded.

It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how
suddenly the feeling of security washed over me — even before I was off
the street — as soon as I heard his voice. I jumped into the seat,
slamming the door shut behind me.

It was dark in the car, no light had come on with the opening of the
door, and I could barely see his face in the glow from the dashboard. The
tires squealed as he spun around to face north, accelerating too quickly,

swerving toward the stunned men on the street. I caught a glimpse of them
diving for the sidewalk as we straightened out and sped toward the harbor.

"Put on your seat belt," he commanded, and I realized I was clutching the
seat with both hands. I quickly obeyed; the snap as the belt connected
was loud in the darkness. He took a sharp left, racing forward, blowing
through several stop signs without a pause.

But I felt utterly safe and, for the moment, totally unconcerned about
where we were going. I stared at his face in profound relief, relief that
went beyond my sudden deliverance. I studied his flawless features in the
limited light, waiting for my breath to return to normal, until it
occurred to me that his expression was murderously angry.

"Are you okay?" I asked, surprised at how hoarse my voice sounded.

"No," he said curtly, and his tone was livid.

I sat in silence, watching his face while his blazing eyes stared
straight ahead, until the car came to a sudden stop. I glanced around,
but it was too dark to see anything beside the vague outline of dark
trees crowding the roadside. We weren't in town anymore.

"Bella?" he asked, his voice tight, controlled.

"Yes?" My voice was still rough. I tried to clear my throat quietly.

"Are you all right?" He still didn't look at me, but the fury was plain
on his face.

"Yes," I croaked softly.

"Distract me, please," he ordered.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He exhaled sharply.

"Just prattle about something unimportant until I calm down," he
clarified, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with his
thumb and forefinger.

"Um." I wracked my brain for something trivial. "I'm going to run over
Tyler Crowley tomorrow before school?"

He was still squeezing his eyes closed, but the corner of his mouth
twitched.

"Why?"

"He's telling everyone that he's taking me to prom — either he's insane
or he's still trying to make up for almost killing me last… well, you
remember it, and he thinks prom is somehow the correct way to do this. So
I figure if I endanger his life, then we're even, and he can't keep
trying to make amends. I don't need enemies and maybe Lauren would back
off if he left me alone. I might have to total his Sentra, though. If he
doesn't have a ride he can't take anyone to prom…" I babbled on.

"I heard about that." He sounded a bit more composed.

"You did?" I asked in disbelief, my previous irritation flaring. "If he's
paralyzed from the neck down, he can't go to the prom, either," I
muttered, refining my plan.

Edward sighed, and finally opened his eyes.

"Better?"

"Not really."

I waited, but he didn't speak again. He leaned his head back against the
seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. His face was rigid.

"What's wrong?" My voice came out in a whisper.

"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella." He was whispering,
too, and as he stared out the window, his eyes narrowed into slits. "But
it wouldn't be helpful for me to turn around and hunt down those…" He
didn't finish his sentence, looking away, struggling for a moment to
control his anger again. "At least," he continued, "that's what I'm
trying to convince myself."

"Oh." The word seemed inadequate, but I couldn't think of a better
response.

We sat in silence again. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was
past six-thirty.

"Jessica and Angela will be worried," I murmured. "I was supposed to meet
them."

He started the engine without another word, turning around smoothly and
speeding back toward town. We were under the streetlights in no time at
all, still going too fast, weaving with ease through the cars slowly
cruising the boardwalk. He parallel-parked against the curb in a space I
would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but he slid in
effortlessly in one try. I looked out the window to see the lights of La
Bella Italia, and Jess and Angela just leaving, pacing anxiously away
from us.

"How did you know where… ?" I began, but then I just shook my head. I
heard the door open and turned to see him getting out.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm taking you to dinner." He smiled slightly, but his eyes were hard.
He stepped out of the car and slammed the door. I fumbled with my seat
belt, and then hurried to get out of the car as well. He was waiting for
me on the sidewalk.

He spoke before I could. "Go stop Jessica and Angela before I have to
track them down, too. I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into
your other friends again."

I shivered at the threat in his voice.

"Jess! Angela!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed
back to me, the pronounced relief on both their faces simultaneously
changing to surprise as they saw who I was standing next to. They
hesitated a few feet from us.

"Where have you been?" Jessica's voice was suspicious.

"I got lost," I admitted sheepishly. "And then I ran into Edward." I
gestured toward him.

"Would it be all right if I joined you?" he asked in his silken,
irresistible voice. I could see from their staggered expressions that he
had never unleashed his talents on them before.

"Er… sure," Jessica breathed.

"Um, actually, Bella, we already ate while we were waiting — sorry,"
Angela confessed.

"That's fine — I'm not hungry." I shrugged.

"I think you should eat something." Edward's voice was low, but full of
authority. He looked up at Jessica and spoke slightly louder. "Do you
mind if I drive Bella home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while
she eats."

"Uh, no problem, I guess…" She bit her lip, trying to figure out from my
expression whether that was what I wanted. I winked at her. I wanted

nothing more than to be alone with my perpetual savior. There were so
many questions that I couldn't bombard him with till we were by ourselves.

"Okay." Angela was quicker than Jessica. "See you tomorrow, Bella…
Edward." She grabbed Jessica's hand and pulled her toward the car, which
I could see a little ways away, parked across First Street. As they got
in, Jess turned and waved, her face eager with curiosity. I waved back,
waiting for them to drive away before I turned to face him.

"Honestly, I'm not hungry," I insisted, looking up to scrutinize his
face. His expression was unreadable.

"Humor me."

He walked to the door of the restaurant and held it open with an
obstinate expression. Obviously, there would be no further discussion. I
walked past him into the restaurant with a resigned sigh.

The restaurant wasn't crowded — it was the off-season in Port Angeles.
The host was female, and I understood the look in her eyes as she
assessed Edward. She welcomed him a little more warmly than necessary. I
was surprised by how much that bothered me. She was several inches taller
than I was, and unnaturally blond.

"A table for two?" His voice was alluring, whether he was aiming for that
or not. I saw her eyes flicker to me and then away, satisfied by my
obvious ordinariness, and by the cautious, no-contact space Edward kept
between us. She led us to a table big enough for four in the center of
the most crowded area of the dining floor.

I was about to sit, but Edward shook his head at me.

"Perhaps something more private?" he insisted quietly to the host. I
wasn't sure, but it looked like he smoothly handed her a tip. I'd never
seen anyone refuse a table except in old movies.

"Sure." She sounded as surprised as I was. She turned and led us around a
partition to a small ring of booths — all of them empty. "How's this?"

"Perfect." He flashed his gleaming smile, dazing her momentarily.

"Um" — she shook her head, blinking — "your server will be right out."
She walked away unsteadily.

"You really shouldn't do that to people," I criticized. "It's hardly
fair."

"Do what?"

"Dazzle them like that — she's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen
right now."

He seemed confused.

"Oh, come on," I said dubiously. "You have to know the effect you have on
people."

He tilted his head to one side, and his eyes were curious. "I dazzle
people?"

"You haven't noticed? Do you think everybody gets their way so easily?"

He ignored my questions. "Do I dazzle you?"

"Frequently," I admitted.

And then our server arrived, her face expectant. The hostess had
definitely dished behind the scenes, and this new girl didn't look
disappointed. She flipped a strand of short black hair behind one ear and
smiled with unnecessary warmth.

"Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get

you to drink?" I didn't miss that she was speaking only to him.

He looked at me.

"I'll have a Coke." It sounded like a question.

"Two Cokes," he said.

"I'll be right back with that," she assured him with another unnecessary
smile. But he didn't see it. He was watching me.

"What?" I asked when she left.

His eyes stayed fixed on my face. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I replied, surprised by his intensity.

"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold… ?"

"Should I?"

He chuckled at my puzzled tone.

"Well, I'm actually waiting for you to go into shock." His face twisted
up into that perfect crooked smile.

"I don't think that will happen," I said after I could breathe again.
"I've always been very good at repressing unpleasant things."

"Just the same, I'll feel better when you have some sugar and food in
you."

Right on cue, the waitress appeared with our drinks and a basket of
breadsticks. She stood with her back to me as she placed them on the
table.

"Are you ready to order?" she asked Edward.

"Bella?" he asked. She turned unwillingly toward me.

I picked the first thing I saw on the menu. "Um… I'll have the mushroom
ravioli."

"And you?" She turned back to him with a smile.

"Nothing for me," he said. Of course not.

"Let me know if you change your mind." The coy smile was still in place,
but he wasn't looking at her, and she left dissatisfied.

"Drink," he ordered.

I sipped at my soda obediently, and then drank more deeply, surprised by
how thirsty I was. I realized I had finished the whole thing when he
pushed his glass toward me.

"Thanks," I muttered, still thirsty. The cold from the icy soda was
radiating through my chest, and I shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"It's just the Coke," I explained, shivering again.

"Don't you have a jacket?" His voice was disapproving.

"Yes." I looked at the empty bench next to me. "Oh — I left it in
Jessica's car," I realized.

Edward was shrugging out of his jacket. I suddenly realized that I had
never once noticed what he was wearing — not just tonight, but ever. I
just couldn't seem to look away from his face. I made myself look now,
focusing. He was removing a light beige leather jacket now; underneath he

wore an ivory turtleneck sweater. It fit him snugly, emphasizing how
muscular his chest was.

He handed me the jacket, interrupting my ogling.

"Thanks," I said again, sliding my arms into his jacket. It was cold —
the way my jacket felt when I first picked it up in the morning, hanging
in the drafty hallway. I shivered again. It smelled amazing. I inhaled,
trying to identify the delicious scent. It didn't smell like cologne. The
sleeves were much too long; I shoved them back so I could free my hands.

"That color blue looks lovely with your skin," he said, watching me. I
was surprised; I looked down, flushing, of course.

He pushed the bread basket toward me.

"Really, I'm not going into shock," I protested.

"You should be — a normal person would be. You don't even look shaken."
He seemed unsettled. He stared into my eyes, and I saw how light his eyes
were, lighter than I'd ever seen them, golden butterscotch.

"I feel very safe with you," I confessed, mesmerized into telling the
truth again.

That displeased him; his alabaster brow furrowed. He shook his head,
frowning.

"This is more complicated than I'd planned," he murmured to himself.

I picked up a breadstick and began nibbling on the end, measuring his
expression. I wondered when it would be okay to start questioning him.

"Usually you're in a better mood when your eyes are so light," I
commented, trying to distract him from whatever thought had left him
frowning and somber.

He stared at me, stunned. "What?"

"You're always crabbier when your eyes are black — I expect it then," I
went on. "I have a theory about that."

His eyes narrowed. "More theories?"

"Mm-hm." I chewed on a small bite of the bread, trying to look
indifferent.

"I hope you were more creative this time… or are you still stealing from
comic books?" His faint smile was mocking; his eyes were still tight.

"Well, no, I didn't get it from a comic book, but I didn't come up with
it on my own, either," I confessed.

"And?" he prompted.

But then the waitress strode around the partition with my food. I
realized we'd been unconsciously leaning toward each other across the
table, because we both straightened up as she approached. She set the
dish in front of me — it looked pretty good — and turned quickly to
Edward.

"Did you change your mind?" she asked. "Isn't there anything I can get
you?" I may have been imagining the double meaning in her words.

"No, thank you, but some more soda would be nice." He gestured with a
long white hand to the empty cups in front of me.

"Sure." She removed the empty glasses and walked away.

"You were saying?" he asked.

"I'll tell you about it in the car. If…" I paused.

"There are conditions?" He raised one eyebrow, his voice ominous.

"I do have a few questions, of course."

"Of course."

The waitress was back with two more Cokes. She sat them down without a
word this time, and left again.

I took a sip.

"Well, go ahead," he pushed, his voice still hard.

I started with the most undemanding. Or so I thought. "Why are you in
Port Angeles?"

He looked down, folding his large hands together slowly on the table. His
eyes flickered up at me from under his lashes, the hint of a smirk on his
face.

"Next."

"But that's the easiest one," I objected.

"Next," he repeated.

I looked down, frustrated. I unrolled my silverware, picked up my fork,
and carefully speared a ravioli. I put it in my mouth slowly, still
looking down, chewing while I thought. The mushrooms were good. I
swallowed and took another sip of Coke before I looked up.

"Okay, then." I glared at him, and continued slowly. "Let's say,
hypothetically of course, that… someone… could know what people are
thinking, read minds, you know — with a few exceptions."

"Just one exception," he corrected, "hypothetically."

"All right, with one exception, then." I was thrilled that he was playing
along, but I tried to seem casual.

"How does that work? What are the limitations? How would… that someone…
find someone else at exactly the right time? How would he know she was in
trouble?" I wondered if my convoluted questions even made sense.

"Hypothetically?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Well, if… that someone…"

"Let's call him 'Joe,'" I suggested.

He smiled wryly. "Joe, then. If Joe had been paying attention, the timing
wouldn't have needed to be quite so exact." He shook his head, rolling
his eyes. "Only you could get into trouble in a town this small. You
would have devastated their crime rate statistics for a decade, you know."

"We were speaking of a hypothetical case," I reminded him frostily.

He laughed at me, his eyes warm.

"Yes, we were," he agreed. "Shall we call you 'Jane'?"

"How did you know?" I asked, unable to curb my intensity. I realized I
was leaning toward him again.

He seemed to be wavering, torn by some internal dilemma. His eyes locked
with mine, and I guessed he was making the decision right then whether or
not to simply tell me the truth.

"You can trust me, you know," I murmured. I reached forward, without

thinking, to touch his folded hands, but he slid them away minutely, and
I pulled my hand back.

"I don't know if I have a choice anymore." His voice was almost a
whisper. "I was wrong — you're much more observant than I gave you credit
for."

"I thought you were always right."

"I used to be." He shook his head again. "I was wrong about you on one
other thing, as well. You're not a magnet for accidents — that's not a
broad enough classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is
anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you."

"And you put yourself into that category?" I guessed.

His face turned cold, expressionless. "Unequivocally."

I stretched my hand across the table again — ignoring him when he pulled
back slightly once more — to touch the back of his hand shyly with my
fingertips. His skin was cold and hard, like a stone.

"Thank you." My voice was fervent with gratitude. "That's twice now."

His face softened. "Let's not try for three, agreed?"

I scowled, but nodded. He moved his hand out from under mine, placing
both of his under the table. But he leaned toward me.

"I followed you to Port Angeles," he admitted, speaking in a rush. "I've
never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it's much more
troublesome than I would have believed. But that's probably just because
it's you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many
catastrophes." He paused. I wondered if it should bother me that he was
following me; instead I felt a strange surge of pleasure. He stared,
maybe wondering why my lips were curving into an involuntary smile.

"Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the
van, and that you've been interfering with fate?" I speculated,
distracting myself.

"That wasn't the first time," he said, and his voice was hard to hear. I
stared at him in amazement, but he was looking down. "Your number was up
the first time I met you."

I felt a spasm of fear at his words, and the abrupt memory of his violent
black glare that first day… but the overwhelming sense of safety I felt
in his presence stifled it. By the time he looked up to read my eyes,
there was no trace of fear in them.

"You remember?" he asked, his angel's face grave.

"Yes." I was calm.

"And yet here you sit." There was a trace of disbelief in his voice; he
raised one eyebrow.

"Yes, here I sit… because of you." I paused. "Because somehow you knew
how to find me today… ?" I prompted.

He pressed his lips together, staring at me through narrowed eyes,
deciding again. His eyes flashed down to my full plate, and then back to
me.

"You eat, I'll talk," he bargained.

I quickly scooped up another ravioli and popped it in my mouth.

"It's harder than it should be — keeping track of you. Usually I can find
someone very easily, once I've heard their mind before." He looked at me
anxiously, and I realized I had frozen. I made myself swallow, then
stabbed another ravioli and tossed it in.

"I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully — like I said, only you
could find trouble in Port Angeles — and at first I didn't notice when
you took off on your own. Then, when I realized that you weren't with her
anymore, I went looking for you at the bookstore I saw in her head. I
could tell that you hadn't gone in, and that you'd gone south… and I knew
you would have to turn around soon. So I was just waiting for you,
randomly searching through the thoughts of people on the street — to see
if anyone had noticed you so I would know where you were. I had no reason
to be worried… but I was strangely anxious…" He was lost in thought,
staring past me, seeing things I couldn't imagine.

"I started to drive in circles, still… listening. The sun was finally
setting, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then —"
He stopped, clenching his teeth together in sudden fury. He made an
effort to calm himself.

"Then what?" I whispered. He continued to stare over my head.

"I heard what they were thinking," he growled, his upper lip curling
slightly back over his teeth. "I saw your face in his mind." He suddenly
leaned forward, one elbow appearing on the table, his hand covering his
eyes. The movement was so swift it startled me.

"It was very… hard — you can't imagine how hard — for me to simply take
you away, and leave them… alive." His voice was muffled by his arm. "I
could have let you go with Jessica and Angela, but I was afraid if you
left me alone, I would go looking for them," he admitted in a whisper.

I sat quietly, dazed, my thoughts incoherent. My hands were folded in my
lap, and I was leaning weakly against the back of the seat. He still had
his face in his hand, and he was as still as if he'd been carved from the
stone his skin resembled.

Finally he looked up, his eyes seeking mine, full of his own questions.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asked.

"I'm ready to leave," I qualified, overly grateful that we had the
hour-long ride home together. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him.

The waitress appeared as if she'd been called. Or watching.

"How are we doing?" she asked Edward.

"We're ready for the check, thank you." His voice was quiet, rougher,
still reflecting the strain of our conversation. It seemed to muddle her.
He looked up, waiting.

"S-sure," she stuttered. "Here you go." She pulled a small leather folder
from the front pocket of her black apron and handed it to him.

There was a bill in his hand already. He slipped it into the folder and
handed it right back to her.

"No change." He smiled. Then he stood up, and I scrambled awkwardly to my
feet.

She smiled invitingly at him again. "You have a nice evening."

He didn't look away from me as he thanked her. I suppressed a smile.

He walked close beside me to the door, still careful not to touch me. I
remembered what Jessica had said about her relationship with Mike, how
they were almost to the first-kiss stage. I sighed. Edward seemed to hear
me, and he looked down curiously. I looked at the sidewalk, grateful that
he didn't seem to be able to know what I was thinking.

He opened the passenger door, holding it for me as I stepped in, shutting
it softly behind me. I watched him walk around the front of the car,
amazed, yet again, by how graceful he was. I probably should have been
used to that by now — but I wasn't. I had a feeling Edward wasn't the

kind of person anyone got used to.

Once inside the car, he started the engine and turned the heater on high.
It had gotten very cold, and I guessed the good weather was at an end. I
was warm in his jacket, though, breathing in the scent of it when I
thought he couldn't see.

Edward pulled out through the traffic, apparently without a glance,
flipping around to head toward the freeway.

"Now," he said significantly, "it's your turn."
回复 引用 新鲜事
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八爷°

ZxID：13286336

1247314鲜花 70鸡蛋

等级: 内阁元老
配偶: 四和七
离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
举报 只看该作者 7楼  发表于: 2012-08-14 0
第七章 梦魇
第七章 梦魇

我告诉查理我有很多作业要做，什么也不想吃。电视上正在直播一场让他情绪激昂的篮球赛——尽管理所当然地，我根本不知道精彩在那里。所以，他完全没有注意到我的表情或是语气有什么不对劲。

一进房间，我就把门锁上了。我在书桌里一阵乱翻，直到找到我的旧耳机为止。我把它们塞进了我的小随身听的插孔里，然后选了一张圣诞节时菲尔送给我的CD。这是他最喜欢的乐队之一，但就我的品味而言，他们歌里的低吼和尖叫用得有点太多了。我啪地一下把它放进随身听，然后躺倒在床上。我戴上耳机，按下播放键，把声音调大到让我的耳朵刺痛为止。我闭上眼睛，但还是觉得太亮了，于是我又加了一个枕头，压在脸上。

我专心致志地听着歌，试图听懂那些歌词，弄懂那些复杂的鼓点和节拍。当我听着这张CD听第三遍的时候，至少，我已经知道合唱部分的所有歌词了。我惊奇地发现，当我忽略那些嘈杂的噪音时，我真的喜欢上这支乐队了。我得再次感谢菲尔。

这很有效。毁灭性的节拍让我没办法思考——这正是我要这样练习的所有意图。我一遍又一遍地听着这张CD，直到我能唱出里面所有的歌，直到，最后，我终于沉沉睡去。

我睁开了眼睛，发现自己在一个熟悉的地方。我的意识里的某些部分告诉我自己正在做梦。我认出了这座森林里的绿光。我能听到，在附近的某个地方，海浪正在撞击着岩礁。我知道，如果我能找到海，我就能看见太阳。我试图循声找去，但这时候，雅克布.布莱克出现了。他拽着我的手，拖着我向森林里最幽暗的地方走去。

“雅克布？怎么了？”我问道。他的脸上写满了恐惧，他拉着我，用尽全身的力气来制止我的反抗。我不想走进黑暗中。

“跑，贝拉，你得跑！”他恐惧地低声说道。

“这边，贝拉！”我认出了迈克的声音，那是从树林里黑暗的中心传来的。但我看不见他。

“为什么？”我问道，依然反抗着雅克布的紧握，渴望着去寻找太阳。

但雅克布放开了我的手，大叫着，忽然倒在了森林中灰扑扑的地面上。他躺在地上，抽搐着，我惊恐地看着他。

“雅克布！”我尖叫起来。但他不见了。在他的位置上出现了一只巨大的红棕色的狼，眼睛是黑色的。那只狼转过身去背对着我，冲着海岸的方向。他背上的毛发全都竖了起来，低低的嚎叫声从他露出的尖牙间传出来。

“贝拉，跑！”迈克又一次在我身后大声喊着。但我没有跑。我看见一道光从海滩那边向着我过来了。

然后，爱德华从树林中走出来。他的肌肤微微发着光，他的双眸漆黑而危险。他举起一只手，示意我到他那里去。狼在我的脚边咆哮着。

我向着爱德华的方向，向前迈了一步。于是他微笑起来，露出尖锐锋利的牙齿。

“相信我。”他愉快地低声说道。

我又踏了一步。

那匹狼让自己横亘在了我和吸血鬼之间的空地上，尖牙瞄准了他的颈动脉。

“不！”我尖叫着，猛地从床上弹起来。  

我的忽然移动让耳机把随身听扯下了桌子，咔哒一声落到了地板上。

灯还开着，我和衣坐在床上，连鞋都没脱。我迷惑地张望着，看见了梳妆台上的时钟。现在是早上五点半。

我呻吟着，倒回床上，翻个身变成趴着的姿势，把靴子给踢掉了。但是，我太难受了，连睡觉的边缘都够不着（根本睡不着）。我又翻过身来，拉开牛仔裤的拉连，平躺着很不雅观地把裤子脱掉。我能感觉到我的发辫在脑袋后面拱成了一个很不舒服的小包。我转过头，把橡胶圈扯下来，用手指很快地梳了几下头发。我把枕头拉回来，压到我的眼睛上。

当然，一切都毫无作用。我的潜意识把我拼命想要忘掉的画面发掘出来。现在，我不得不面对它们了。

我坐起来，头晕目眩了一会儿，血液才开始向下涌动。重要的事先做，我自忖着，很高兴能把这件事尽可能地往后推。我抓起了我的洗漱包。

但是，沐浴并没有像我所希望的那样耗时间。尽管花了不少时间吹干头发，我还是很快把在浴室里能做的事都做完了。我裹上一块浴巾，走回我的房间。我说不准查理是还在睡呢，还是已经出去了。我走到窗前看出去，发现巡逻车已经开走了。又开始钓鱼了。

我慢慢地穿上自己最舒适的汗衫，把床铺好——我很少这样做的。我再也不能把这事往后推了。我走到书桌前，打开了我的旧电脑。

我讨厌在这里上网。我的调制解调器相当过时了，我的免费上网服务完全在标准之下。光是拨号就得花上很长一段时间，所以在等待的时候，我决定先去给自己弄一碗麦片粥。

我吃得很慢，每一口都细细咀嚼。吃完以后，我把碗和勺子洗好，擦干，然后放回去。上楼时我故意磨磨蹭蹭地拖着步子走路。我先走向我的随身听，把它从地上捡起来，精确地放到桌子正中央。我把耳机拔下来，放回抽屉里。然后我把原来那张CD公放，把声音调低到刚刚好能成为背景音乐的那个点上。

我又叹了口气，这才转向我的电脑。自然，屏幕上全是弹窗广告。我坐到我那张硬邦邦的扶手椅上，开始把所有的小窗口关掉。最后，我打开了我最喜欢的搜索引擎。我又关掉了另外几个弹窗广告，然后键入了一个词。

吸血鬼。  

当然，这花了简直让人气愤的相当长的时间。当结果出来的时候，还有很多内容需要进行筛选——那些内容从电影电视节目到角色扮演游戏，黑市金属，以及哥特妆伴游。

然后，我发现了一个看上去比较可信的网址——吸血鬼A-Z。我迫不及待地等着它打开页面，飞快地关闭屏幕上一闪而过的每个广告。最后，整个屏幕都清空了——简洁的白色背景和黑色标题，看上去很有学术氛围。主页上的两段引述首先映入了我的眼帘。

“自始至终，那个属于幽灵与恶魔的浩瀚的黑暗世界根本没有那么可怕，根本没有那么令人畏惧和憎恶，只是经过了太多充满恐惧的幻想的修饰。正如吸血鬼，他既不属于幽灵，也不属于恶魔，但还是带着几份着黑暗的本质，兼有着那两者的神秘与恐怖的特质。——蒙塔古.萨默斯”（《吸血鬼传奇》的作者，公认的吸血鬼研究专家）

“如果这个世界上有一份屡经证实的报告，那一定是关于吸血鬼的。没有任何东西能被遗漏掉：官方报道，知情者的口供，外科医生的证明，牧师的证词，法官的证言。所有司法上的证据都完备了。但是，即使知道这一切，有人会相信吸血鬼的存在吗？——卢梭”

余下部分是一张依字母表排列的清单，囊括了全世界所有关于吸血鬼的各种各样的传说。我首先点开了“丹拿”，这是一种菲律宾的吸血鬼，很多年以前是负责在岛上种植芋头的。这个传说里讲到，丹拿为人类工作了很多年，直到有一天，这样的合作关系却破裂了。一个女人不小心切到了手指，而一个丹拿为她吮吸伤口，因为觉得滋味太好了，最后它把她体内所有的血都喝干了。

我仔细地阅读这些描述，寻找任何听着觉得熟悉的内容，把那些说得天花乱坠的部分丢到一边。似乎大多数的吸血鬼传说都围绕着漂亮女人和小孩子展开，前者通常是恶魔，后者通常是受害者。它们似乎都是被捏造出来用来解释年幼的孩子居高不下的夭折率，或是给男人一个放纵的借口。许多故事包括了无形体的灵魂以及对不合乎礼法的葬礼的警告。没有多少听起来像是我看过的电影的内容，只有一小部分，像是希伯来的艾斯提瑞和波兰的乌皮尔，是一心吸血的吸血鬼。

（引用一下接力的注释：艾斯提瑞（Estrie），貌似吸血鬼的恶灵，喜欢小孩儿。乌皮尔（Upier），舌头上有尖刺，外形恐怖，嗜血如狂。就算正在熟睡，闻到血的味道也会立即从坟墓中跳出来。）

只有三个条目真正地吸引了我的注意力：罗马尼亚的维拉可拉斯，一个强大的不死生物，通常以俊美的、肌肤苍白的人类形态出现；斯洛伐克的耐拉斯，一种极其强壮，速度奇快的生物，午夜之后它能在一个小时之内屠杀掉整个村子的人；还有一个，斯特岗尼亚，有益的吸血鬼，关于最后这个吸血鬼的描述只有一个简短的句子。

斯特岗尼亚，有益的吸血鬼：一种意大利吸血鬼，据说是美德的保护者，是所有邪恶吸血鬼最致命的敌人。

这个短短的传说实在是一种宽慰，在上百条传说之中，这是仅有的宣称存在着有好的吸血鬼的一条。  

但是，总的说来，这里没有太多内容和雅克布的故事或者我的观察结果有关。我一边看，一边在心里列了一份小小的列表，用来跟每条传说逐一对比。速度，强壮，美丽，苍白的肌肤，会变色的眼睛，还有雅克布的标准：饮血者，狼人的天敌，冰冷的肌肤，以及永恒的生命。没有多少传说能符合至少一个的因素。

还有另一个问题。我记得在我看过的寥寥无几的恐怖电影里提到过，再加上我今天所看的内容——吸血鬼不能在白天出没，阳光会把他们烧成灰烬的。白天他们都睡在棺材里面，只在夜里出来活动。

一气之下，我啪地一下关掉了电脑的电源，不想再干等着按部就班地关闭电脑。在怒火之外，我更感到了压倒性的窘迫。这一切都太愚蠢了。我居然坐在自己的房间里，搜索着吸血鬼。我到底是怎么了？我决定把大部分的指责归咎于福克斯镇的门槛——还有整个湿漉漉的奥林匹克半岛。

我迫切地想要离开这所房子，但任何我想去的地方都得开上三天的车才能到。无论如何，我还是穿上靴子，漫无目的地走下楼。我甚至没有看看天气，就直接套上了我的雨衣，重重地踏着步子走出门外。

天阴沉沉的，但没在下雨。我不去理会自己的卡车，徒步向东面走去，斜穿过查理的院子走向我此前从未涉足过的森林。没花多长时间我就走进了丛林深处，走到无论是从房子里还是从马路上都已经看不到的地方。唯一的声音是来自我脚下的湿土的吱嘎声，还有突如其来的松鸦的叫声。

一条窄窄的羊肠小道穿过密林延伸到这里，否则我不会冒着让自己迷路的风险走到这里来。我的方向感向来让人绝望：要是周遭有助于认路的信息再少一点，我就必定要迷路了。这条小径蜿蜒着伸向密林里更深处，就我所知，总体上是一路向东延伸。它曲折着绕过一棵棵西德加云杉和铁杉，一棵棵紫杉和枫木。我只是隐约知道自己周围的树的名字，而我知道的这一切都得归功于查理。更早些的时候，他曾在巡逻车里为我指出窗外这些树的名字。这里有许多我不认识的树，还有有一些树我没法确认，因为它们都覆盖在了密密麻麻的绿色藤蔓植物下。

我的怒气推着我往前走，于是我一直沿着小路走去。直到愤怒开始褪去，我才放慢了脚步。点点水滴从我头顶上的天穹潺潺而下，但我不能肯定是开始下雨了，还是纯粹是昨天雨后留在我头上高处的树叶丛中的积水，正在慢慢地滴落下来，完成它们归于尘土的旅程。一棵新倒伏下来的大树——我认为它很新是因为它还没有完全被苔藓覆盖住——斜倚在她的姐妹们的树干上，形成了一个掩蔽的小长椅，离小径只有安全的几英尺高。我踩过一片蕨类植物，小心地坐下来，确保我的夹克隔在了那个潮湿的座椅和相应的衣服之间。然后，我把戴着兜帽的头靠在那棵活着的树上。  

我来错地方了，我应该早就知道的，但我还能去哪里呢？这个森林如此苍翠，太像昨晚的梦境了，我没法让自己的心绪保持宁静。既然这里已经不会再有我沉闷的脚步声了，这片沉寂就更加显得讽刺。鸟儿也安静下来了。滴水逐渐变得频繁起来，所以森林上空一定在下雨。那片蕨类植物高得比我还高，因为我是坐着的，所以我知道即使有人从三英尺外的小径上经过，也不会看见我的。
我强迫自己把注意力集中在两个最重要的，我必须解决的问题上，但我实在很不情愿这样做。

首先，我必须作出判断，有没有这种可能，即雅克布所说的关于卡伦一家的事是真的。

我的心立刻作出了强烈的否定回答。用这么荒谬的想法来取乐既愚蠢又神经。但是，那又怎样呢？没有一个合理的解释能说明为什么此时此刻我还活着。我又一次在脑海中列出我自己观察到的东西：不可思议的速度和强壮，从黑色变成金色然后又变回来的眸色，超越常人的美丽，苍白冰冷的肌肤。还有更多——一件件小事慢慢地显露出来——譬如他们似乎从不吃东西，他们的举止优雅地惊人。还有有时候他们说话的方式，那种陌生的抑扬顿挫和遣词用句更适合于一本另一个世纪的小说的风格，而非二十一世纪的教室。我们检测血型那天他翘课了。他一直没说不去海滩之旅，直到他听到我们要去的地方。他似乎知道他周围的每个人都在想些什么……除了我。他告诉过我他是坏人，非常危险……

卡伦一家有可能是吸血鬼吗？

嗯，他们确实是某种东西。某种在合理判断的可能性之外的事情正在我明察秋毫的眼睛前发生着。不管是雅克布所说的冷族还是我自己的超级英雄论，爱德华.卡伦都不会是……人类。他是某种超越人类的存在。

那么——或许吧。这就是我现在能得出的结论。

另一个问题尤为重要。如果这是真的，我要怎么做？

如果爱德华真的是一个吸血鬼——我很难让自己去想这个词——我该怎么办？让别人牵连进来显然是不行的。我甚至不敢相信自己。不管我告诉谁，我都得承担相应的责任。

只有两个选项似乎比较有可行性。第一个是听取他的建议：聪明点，离他远远的。取消我们的计划，回到尽可能无视他的状态。当我们被迫坐在一起上课的时候，假装我们之间有一堵无法穿透的，厚厚的玻璃墙。告诉他离自己远点——而且这一次要表现出来。

当我思考着这个选择的时候，我忽然陷入了一种绝望的痛苦之中。我的心抗拒着这种痛苦，迅速跳到下一个选项。

我什么也不用做。毕竟，就算他是某种……危险的存在，至今他也没做什么伤害我的事。事实上，如果他的动作不是那么快的话，我本来会成为泰勒的挡泥板下的一道凹痕的。这么快，我和自己争论着，这绝对反映了一些问题。但如果这种反映是用来拯救生命的，他能有多坏？我反驳着。我的脑子徒劳无功地转着。

如果我能肯定什么事的话，有一件事情我很肯定。昨晚我梦里的那个黑暗的爱德华只是我对雅克布所说的话而产生的恐惧的表现，并非爱德华本人。虽然如此，当我因为狼人的进攻而惊恐地尖叫出声的时候，我也不是因为害怕狼而从嘴里喊出了“不”。我只是害怕着他可能会受伤——即使他露出锋利的尖牙呼唤着我，我也在为他担心着。  

然后我知道，我已经得出答案了。我甚至不知道这里面是否真的有过一个抉择。我已经陷得太深了。我知道——如果我真的知道的话——对于我这个吓人的秘密，我什么也不会做的。因为每当我想起他，想起他的声音，他能够催眠的眼睛，他极具吸引力的个人魅力的时候，我只想立刻和他在一起，除此之外便别无所求了。即使……但我不能再想下去了。不能在这里，独自一人待在越来越黑的森林里想。不能在这个时候，不能在雨水让天边的暮色变得黯淡，滴滴答答的声音就像走过铺着瓷砖的地板的脚步声的时候想。我颤抖着，赶快从我的隐蔽之所站起来，担心着那条小路也许会消失在雨中。

但它仍在那里，安全又清晰，蜿蜒着穿过那片湿漉漉的绿色迷宫。我慌忙沿着小路走回去，我的兜帽拉得很低，垂在我的脸旁。我开始惊慌起来，几乎是跑着穿过树林，因为我觉得已经走了像来时那么远的距离了。我开始怀疑自己是不是已经冲过头了，又或者是沿着小路走到了森林里更远的地方。但在我变得更加惊慌失措以前，透过密密麻麻像蜘蛛网一样的树枝，我隐约能瞥见一些开阔地了。然后我听到了一辆车穿过街道的声音，我自由了。查理的草坪出现在我的面前，那所房子在召唤着我，许诺着温暖以及干燥的袜子。

我走回屋里的时候刚好是正午。我走上楼，换上这一天的装束——牛仔裤和T恤衫——因为我会一直待在家里。全力以赴解决今天的任务不会花上太多的工夫，只是一份周三截止的关于麦克白的论文而已。我心满意足地投入工作，罗列出了一份粗略的草稿。这份宁静的心境是我许久没有感受过的，自从……好吧，自从周四下午以后，如果我足够诚实的话。

不过，这通常是我的风格。做决定对我来说是一个痛苦的过程，一个让我饱受煎熬的过程。不过一旦我作出了决定，我就只会坚持到底——通常还会因为已经做出了选择而倍感宽慰。有时这种宽慰会被失望所破坏，正如我来福克斯的决定。但这仍比为作出选择而苦苦斟酌要好得多。

现在带着这个决定住下来要容易多了，荒谬可笑的容易。危机重重的容易。

这一天就这样平静地过去了，而且效率很高——我在八点前就把论文写完了。查理到家的时候简直就是大丰收。我做了一个备忘录，提醒自己下周到西雅图去的时候记得买一本烹鱼食谱。无论何时我一想到这趟旅程，一阵寒意就会飞快地掠过我的脊柱。（不禁打了一个激灵）但这和我跟雅克布.布莱克散步以前所感到过的寒意没什么不同。我想，它们本来应该有所不同的。我本来应该觉得害怕——我知道我应该这样做的，但我确实感觉不到这种正确的恐惧感。

那天夜里我一夜无梦，睡得很好。因为那一天我起得太早，前一天晚上又睡得太少，耗尽了我的精力。这是我到福克斯以后的第二次，在一个晴朗的早上，在明黄色的光线中醒来。我跳到窗前，惊奇地发现天空里甚至没有半点云影，只有几片小小的羊毛般纯白蓬松的云彩，它们根本不可能带来任何雨水。我推开窗子，惊讶地发现当它打开的时候相当安静，完全没有卡住，一点儿也不像谁知道多少年没开过的样子。我深吸了一口相对比较干爽的空气。外面很暖和，一丝风也没有。我的血液在血管里沸腾着。  

当我下楼的时候，查理已经吃完早餐了，他立刻领会到了我的心情。

“适合外出的好天气。”他评价道。

“是的。”我露齿一笑，赞同道。

他冲我一笑，棕色的眼睛弯成了两道弧线。当查理微笑的时候，很容易就能看出来为什么当初他和我妈会闪电般地早婚。那段日子里他曾有过的年轻人的浪漫，大部分在我记事以前就消失殆尽了。正如他卷曲的棕发——和我一样的颜色，即使质地有所不同——已经开始减少了，渐渐显露出越来越多的前额上发亮的肌肤。但当他微笑的时候，我依然可以看到那个和蕾妮一起私奔的男人的影子，那时候她只比我现在大两岁。

我兴高采烈地吃着早餐，看着点点纤尘在从后窗射入的阳光里轻舞飞扬。查理喊了一声再见，然后我听到了巡逻车开走的声音。出门的时候我拿着我的防水夹克，犹豫了一下。把它留在家里是个诱人却关乎命运的举措。我叹了口气，把它搭在手臂上，走进了数月以来我见过的最明媚的阳光里。

靠着肘部脂肪的力量，我终于能够把卡车里的每扇窗子都差不多完全摇了下来。我是第一个到学校的。我甚至没有看一眼时钟，就急急忙忙地出门了。我把车停好，径直走向自助餐厅南面的那些很少用到的野餐长凳。那些长凳还有点潮，所以我坐在了我的夹克上，为有机会用到它而高兴着。我的作业已经做完了——慢节奏社交生活的产物——但还有几道三角函数题我不能肯定自己做对了。我勤奋地拿出了书，但在检查第一道题的时候就中途停了下来，开始神游太虚，注视着在红色树皮的树顶上跃动着的阳光。我一时大意，在我的家庭作业的空白处画起速写来。几分钟以后，我才忽然注意到，自己画了五双黑色的眼睛，都在纸上盯着我看。我用橡皮擦把它们完全擦掉了。

“贝拉！”我听到某人在喊我，听起来像是迈克。

我抬起头看四周，这才发觉在我心不在焉地坐在这里的时候，学校里已经挤满了人。每个人都穿着T恤衫，有些人甚至还穿着短袖衫，尽管气温最多不超过六十华氏度。迈克向我走过来，一路挥着手，他穿着卡其色的短袖衫，套在一件条纹橄榄球衫外。

“嗨，迈克。”我喊着，向他挥手。我不能在这样一个早晨表现得毫无兴致。

他走过来坐到我身旁，梳得整整齐齐的头发在阳光里闪闪发亮。他张大嘴笑着。只是见到我就能让他这样高兴，我无法不感到满足。

“我之前从没注意到过——你的头发带着些红影。”他评价道，手指间抓着的一股细线在微风中轻轻摆动着。

“只在太阳下会这样。”

当他捋平我耳后的一缕头发时，我开始有些不安起来。

“好天气，不是吗？”

“我喜欢的天气。”我赞同道。

“你昨天都在做什么？”他的语气有点儿像是在过问自己的所有物的情况。

“我几乎都在写我的论文。”我没有补充说我已经完成了——没有必然让自己显得是在炫耀。

他用手背拍了一下额头。“哦，是的——那是在周四截止，对吧？”

“呃，我想，应该是周三。”

“周三？”他皱起眉。“大事不妙……你的题目是什么？”

“莎士比亚对待女性角色的态度是否是厌恶女性的表现。”

他盯着我，就好像我刚刚在说隐语一样。

“我想我今晚就得着手写论文了。”他泄气地说道。“我本来还想问你愿不愿意出去逛逛呢。”

“哦。”我卸下了防备。为什么我每次跟迈克愉快的谈话都得以尴尬告终呢？

“嗯，我们可以一起吃晚餐，或者……我可以晚些再写论文。”他满怀希望地向我微笑着。

“迈克……”我不喜欢被置于这种处境。“我不认为这是一个好主意。”

他拉下脸来。“为什么？”他问道，眼里充满了警惕。我飞快地想起了爱德华，怀疑着这是否恰好也是他所想到的。

“我觉得……如果你敢立刻重复我所说的话，我会很乐意弄死你的。”我威胁道。“但我觉得这会伤害杰西卡的感情。”

他完全不知所措，显然根本没有往这方面想。“杰西卡？”

“真的，迈克，你是瞎子吗？”

“哦。”他轻呼道——显然还在迷惑着。我利用这一点，让自己脱身。

“上课的时间到了，我不能再迟到了。”我把书收起来，塞进包里。  

我们沉默着向三号楼走去，他一脸的心烦意乱。我希望不管让他陷入沉思的内容是什么，最好都能把他领到正确的方向上去。

当我在三角函数课上看见杰西卡时，她正热切地说个不停。她，安吉拉还有劳伦准备今晚去天使港买舞会上穿的礼服，而且她希望我也去，尽管我并不需要买。我迟疑着。和几个小女友一起到镇外去是件好事，可劳伦也在。而且谁知道我今晚能做什么……但显然是那条错误的小路让我的心思徘徊不定的。当然，我喜欢阳光。但这并非是我心情愉快的全部原因，事实上，根本就不沾边。

所以我只给了她一个模棱两可的答复，告诉她我得先问问查理。

去上西班牙语课的时候，她一直滔滔不绝地说着舞会的事，无暇谈及其他，甚至直到上完课的时候都没停下来过。五分钟后，我们去吃午餐。我完全沉浸在自己疯狂的渴望之中，几乎没怎么注意到她说了什么。我痛苦地渴望着见到他，但不只是他，还有所有的卡伦家的孩子——把他们和折磨着我的头脑的猜疑一一对比。当我穿过自助餐厅的入口时，我第一次真切地感受到了一阵恐惧的刺痛滑过我的脊柱，落到我的胃里。他们能知道我在想什么吗？然后，另一种完全不同的感觉颠覆着我——爱德华会再次等着和我坐到一起吗？

如同例行公事一样，我第一眼便向卡伦家的桌子看去。当我意识到它是空的时，一阵恐惧的颤抖在我的胃里翻腾着。带着越来越渺茫的希望，我的眼睛搜索着自助餐厅的余下部分，希望能看见他独自坐着，等着我。到处都坐满了人——西班牙语课让我们来晚了——却没有任何爱德华或者他的某个家人的影子。一种无力的荒凉感袭击了我。

我蹒跚着走在杰西卡后面，不再费神假装在听她说话了。

我们来得太晚了，我们桌子上的人几乎都到齐了。我避开迈克旁边的那张空椅子，更青睐安吉拉旁边那张。我隐约留意到迈克彬彬有礼地为杰西卡拉开椅子，她的脸立刻容光焕发。

安吉拉安静地问了几个关于那篇《麦克白》的论文的问题，我尽可能答得正常些，尽管此时我正盘旋着落入绝望的深渊。她也邀请我今晚和她们一起去，而我立刻答应了，想要抓住任何能让我分心的事。

当我走进生物教室的时候，我意识到自己怀着最后一线希望。但在看到他空空的座位以后，新一轮的失望向我涌来。

这一天剩下的时间过得漫长又沉默。体育课上，我们要听羽毛球的规则讲演，这是排着队等着我的又一次煎熬。但至少，这意味着我可以坐下来听课，而不是在庭院里到处被绊到。最好的部分是教练没能讲完，所以明天我又将逃过一劫。在我从余下的课里解放出来以前，我根本不去在乎后天他们就要让我拿上球拍了。

我很高兴能离开学校，这样我就能在今晚陪着杰西卡出去以前自由自在地发脾气和意志消沉了。但正当我走进查理家大门的时候，杰西卡打电话来取消了我们的计划。我试图为迈克邀请她出去吃晚餐感到高兴——我确实为他最终明白过来而感到宽慰——但我热切的声音在我自己耳中显得很假。她把我们的购物之旅顺延到了明天晚上。  

这就让我几乎没有了可以分心的事。我把鱼放进调味汁里腌好，又做了一个沙拉，再加上昨天晚上剩下的面包，晚餐就准备好了，再也没有什么事可做了。我花了半小时专心致志地写作业，但又把作业给写完了。我检查自己的电子邮件，看着积攒下来的我母亲发来的邮件，时间越靠后的语气越显暴躁。我叹了口气，打了一封简短的回复。

“妈妈，

抱歉。我出去了。我和几个朋友一起去了海滩。而且我还有一份论文要写。”

我的借口听起来相当地可悲，所以我放弃了，换成了下面这封。

“今天外面晴朗极了——我知道，我也很震惊——所以我打算到外面去，尽可能地多吸收一些维生素D。我爱你。

贝拉”

我决定用课外阅读来打发掉一个小时的时间。在我来福克斯的时候我随身带了一些藏书，其中最残破的那一册是简.奥斯丁的作品集。我挑出那本书，向后院走去，下楼的时候顺手从楼梯顶上的亚麻布衣橱里抓了一条破旧的褥子。

在查理小小的，四四方方的庭院里，我把那条褥子对叠了一下，把它放到树阴之外的草坪上。不管阳光照射多久，那块草坪永远都是微微湿润着的。我趴下来，把脚踝在空中交叠，飞快地浏览着书里的每一篇小时，试图决定哪一篇最能让我沉迷其中。我最喜欢的是《傲慢与偏见》和《理智与情感》。前者我读得最多，所以我开始看《理智与情感》，但在看了三页以后却想起来这个故事的主人公碰巧也叫爱德华。我愤怒地转去看《曼菲尔德庄园》，但这一篇的主人公叫埃德蒙，实在是太相近了。十八世纪末就没有别的名字可用了吗？我啪地合上书，气恼地把书扔过头顶。我把袖子挽到最高的地方，然后闭上了眼睛。我严厉地对自己说，我什么也不要想，只想让我的肌肤暖和起来。微风轻轻吹拂着，却把我脸旁的头发吹得卷曲起来，这样很痒。我把头发全部拢到脑后，让它呈扇形披散在我身上的褥子上，然后又一次把心思放在阳光的热度上。暖烘烘的阳光落在我的眼皮上，我的颧骨上，我的鼻子上，我的嘴唇上，我的小臂上，我的脖子上，浸透了我轻薄的衬衣……

接下来我听到了查理的巡逻车碾上车道的砖块的声音。我吃惊地坐起来，发觉光线已经消失在了树丛后。我方才睡着了。我茫然地环顾四周，忽然意识到我不是一个人。
“查理？”我出声询问道。但我能听到从房子前头传来的他关门的声音。

我跳起来，急躁得有些可笑，收拾起已经有些潮湿的褥子和书。我冲进屋里，往锅里放了点油，开始加热，意识到晚餐要推迟了。当我进来的时候，查理正在把武装带挂起来，脱下靴子。

“抱歉，爸爸，晚餐还没好——我在屋外睡着了。”我的话被呵欠打断了。

“别担心，”他说。“总之，我想先看看赛事的比分情况。”

为了找些事干，晚饭后我和查理一起看电视。没什么我想看的节目，但他知道我不喜欢篮球，所以他换了台，切换到某个我们都不怎么喜欢的情景喜剧。但他还是很开心，因为我们能待在一起做点什么。如果不去管我的失落的话，让他高兴是件不错的事。

“爸爸，”插播广告的时候我说道。“杰西卡和安吉拉打算明天晚上去天使港去找舞会穿的衣服，她们想让我帮忙挑选……你介意我跟她们一起去吗？”

“杰西卡.斯坦利？”他问道。

“还有安吉拉.韦伯。”我叹了口气，给了他更加详尽的信息。

他很困惑：“可你不打算去舞会，对吧？”

“我不去，爸爸。但我可以帮她们找衣服——你知道，给她们一点有建设性的意见。”如果是跟一个女人说话，我就不用解释这些了。

“嗯，好吧。”他似乎意识到他离少女的世界太远了。“不过，这是上学的晚上。”

“我们一放学就去，这样我们就可以早点回来。你要自己解决晚餐，没问题吧？”

“贝拉，在你到这儿来以前，我自力更生了十七年。”他提醒我。

“我不知道你是怎么活下来的。”我嘟囔着，然后更清晰地补充道。“我会在冰箱里留一点做冷餐三明治的食材，好吗？就在冰箱上层。”
这天早上又是晴空万里。我又燃起了新的希望，虽然我冷漠地试图把这种感觉给压下去。因为天气更暖和了，我穿上了一件深蓝色V领短打衫——这是我在凤凰城冬天最冷的时候才会穿的衣服。

我精确地安排着到校时间，这样我就能刚好赶上上课了。我心里沉甸甸的，满停车场兜着圈子找空位，同时也是在找那辆银色沃尔沃，但它显然不在。我把车停到最后一排，然后匆忙地跑去上英语课，上气不接下气地赶到了教室，然后在最后一声铃响前缓了过来。

今天和昨天完全一样——只是我没能保住心头萌发的小小希望之芽。当我徒劳地搜索着午餐室，当我坐到空荡荡的生物实验桌旁时，我只能痛苦地把它们扼杀掉。

天使港计划今晚将重新启动，让一切变得更有吸引力的是劳伦另有贵干的事实。我迫不及待地想要到镇外去，这样我就能停下来不再从肩膀上看过去，希望能看见他像平常一样出人意料地出现在那里。（out of blue。。。）我向自己发誓，我今晚要过得非常愉快，而且不能在扫货的时候让安吉拉或者杰西卡扫兴。也许我也应该买点衣服。我拒绝想到这周末我可能得孤零零地在西雅图购物，对更早些时候的行程安排毫无兴致。当然，他不会单方面地取消约定的，至少会告诉我一声。

放学后，杰西卡开着她老掉牙的白色水星跟着我回家，这样我就能把书和车扔在家里。当我在屋里的时候，我飞快地刷了几下头发。一想到能逃离福克斯，我就感到一阵轻微的亢奋。我在桌上给查理留了张纸条，再次告诉他在哪里可以找到他的晚饭，然后从我的书包里取出那个破旧的钱夹，把里面的东西都转到一只我很少用的钱包里，然后跑出去找杰西卡。接下来我们去了安吉拉家，她正等着我们。当我们真的开出小镇的范围时，我的兴奋开始以指数形式增长。
7. NIGHTMARE




I told Charlie I had a lot of homework to do, and that I didn't want
anything to eat. There was a basketball game on that he was excited
about, though of course I had no idea what was special about it, so he
wasn't aware of anything unusual in my face or tone.

Once in my room, I locked the door. I dug through my desk until I found
my old headphones, and I plugged them into my little CD player. I picked
up a CD that Phil had given to me for Christmas. It was one of his
favorite bands, but they used a little too much bass and shrieking for my
tastes. I popped it into place and lay down on my bed. I put on the
headphones, hit Play, and turned up the volume until it hurt my ears. I
closed my eyes, but the light still intruded, so I added a pillow over
the top half of my face.

I concentrated very carefully on the music, trying to understand the
lyrics, to unravel the complicated drum patterns. By the third time I'd
listened through the CD, I knew all the words to the choruses, at least.
I was surprised to find that I really did like the band after all, once I
got past the blaring noise. I'd have to thank Phil again.

And it worked. The shattering beats made it impossible for me to think —
which was the whole purpose of the exercise. I listened to the CD again
and again, until I was singing along with all the songs, until, finally,
I fell asleep.

I opened my eyes to a familiar place. Aware in some corner of my
consciousness that I was dreaming, I recognized the green light of the
forest. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks somewhere
nearby. And I knew that if I found the ocean, I'd be able to see the sun.
I was trying to follow the sound, but then Jacob Black was there, tugging
on my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest.

"Jacob? What's wrong?" I asked. His face was frightened as he yanked with
all his strength against my resistance; I didn't want to go into the dark.

"Run, Bella, you have to run!" he whispered, terrified.

"This way, Bella!" I recognized Mike's voice calling out of the gloomy
heart of the trees, but I couldn't see him.

"Why?" I asked, still pulling against Jacob's grasp, desperate now to
find the sun.

But Jacob let go of my hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the
dim forest floor. He twitched on the ground as I watched in horror.

"Jacob!" I screamed. But he was gone. In his place was a large red-brown
wolf with black eyes. The wolf faced away from me, pointing toward the
shore, the hair on the back of his shoulders bristling, low growls
issuing from between his exposed fangs.

"Bella, run!" Mike cried out again from behind me. But I didn't turn. I
was watching a light coming toward me from the beach.

And then Edward stepped out from the trees, his skin faintly glowing, his
eyes black and dangerous. He held up one hand and beckoned me to come to
him. The wolf growled at my feet.

I took a step forward, toward Edward. He smiled then, and his teeth were
sharp, pointed.

"Trust me," he purred.

I took another step.

The wolf launched himself across the space between me and the vampire,
fangs aiming for the jugular.

"No!" I screamed, wrenching upright out of my bed.

My sudden movement caused the headphones to pull the CD player off the
bedside table, and it clattered to the wooden floor.

My light was still on, and I was sitting fully dressed on the bed, with
my shoes on. I glanced, disoriented, at the clock on my dresser. It was
five-thirty in the morning.

I groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto my face, kicking off my boots.
I was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. I rolled back
over and unbuttoned my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as I tried to
stay horizontal. I could feel the braid in my hair, an uncomfortable
ridge along the back of my skull. I turned onto my side and ripped the
rubber band out, quickly combing through the plaits with my fingers. I
pulled the pillow back over my eyes.

It was all no use, of course. My subconscious had dredged up exactly the
images I'd been trying so desperately to avoid. I was going to have to
face them now.

I sat up, and my head spun for a minute as the blood flowed downward.
First things first, I thought to myself, happy to put it off as long as
possible. I grabbed my bathroom bag.

The shower didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would, though. Even
taking the time to blow-dry my hair, I was soon out of things to do in
the bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, I crossed back to my room. I couldn't
tell if Charlie was still asleep, or if he had already left. I went to
look out my window, and the cruiser was gone. Fishing again.

I dressed slowly in my most comfy sweats and then made my bed — something
I never did. I couldn't put it off any longer. I went to my desk and
switched on my old computer.

I hated using the Internet here. My modem was sadly outdated, my free
service substandard; just dialing up took so long that I decided to go
get myself a bowl of cereal while I waited.

I ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. When I was done, I washed the
bowl and spoon, dried them, and put them away. My feet dragged as I
climbed the stairs. I went to my CD player first, picking it up off the
floor and placing it precisely in the center of the table. I pulled out
the headphones, and put them away in the desk drawer. Then I turned the
same CD on, turning it down to the point where it was background noise.

With another sigh, I turned to my computer. Naturally, the screen was
covered in pop-up ads. I sat in my hard folding chair and began closing
all the little windows. Eventually I made it to my favorite search
engine. I shot down a few more pop-ups and then typed in one word.

Vampire.

It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up,
there was a lot to sift through — everything from movies and TV shows to
role-playing games, underground metal, and gothic cosmetic companies.

Then I found a promising site — Vampires A—Z. I waited impatiently for it
to load, quickly clicking closed each ad that flashed across the screen.
Finally the screen was finished — simple white background with black
text, academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the home page:



Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is no figure
so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with such
fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghost nor
demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious
and terrible qualities of both. — Rev. Montague Summers



If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the
vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known
people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is
most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires?
— Rousseau



The rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different
myths of vampires held throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the
Danag, was a Filipino vampire supposedly responsible for planting taro on
the islands long ago. The myth continued that the Danag worked with
humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut
her finger and a Danag sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that
it drained her body completely of blood.

I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that
sounded familiar, let alone plausible. It seemed that most vampire myths
centered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they
also seemed like constructs created to explain away the high mortality
rates for young children, and to give men an excuse for infidelity. Many
of the stories involved bodiless spirits and warnings against improper
burials. There wasn't much that sounded like the movies I'd seen, and
only a very few, like the Hebrew Estrie and the Polish Upier, who were
even preoccupied with drinking blood.

Only three entries really caught my attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a
powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned
human, the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could
massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one
other, the Stregoni benefici.

About this last there was only one brief sentence.

Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of
goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires.

It was a relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds that
claimed the existence of good vampires.

Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Jacob's stories or
my own observations. I'd made a little catalogue in my mind as I'd read
and carefully compared it with each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale
skin, eyes that shift color; and then Jacob's criteria: blood drinkers,
enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, and immortal. There were very few
myths that matched even one factor.

And then another problem, one that I'd remembered from the small number
of scary movies that I'd seen and was backed up by today's reading —
vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a
cinder. They slept in coffins all day and came out only at night.

Aggravated, I snapped off the computer's main power switch, not waiting
to shut things down properly. Through my irritation, I felt overwhelming
embarrassment. It was all so stupid. I was sitting in my room,
researching vampires. What was wrong with me? I decided that most of the
blame belonged on the doorstep of the town of Forks — and the entire
sodden Olympic Peninsula, for that matter.

I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that
didn't involve a three-day drive. I pulled on my boots anyway, unclear
where I was headed, and went downstairs. I shrugged into my raincoat
without checking the weather and stomped out the door.

It was overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck and started east
on foot, angling across Charlie's yard toward the ever-encroaching
forest. It didn't take long till I was deep enough for the house and the
road to be invisible, for the only sound to be the squish of the damp
earth under my feet and the sudden cries of the jays.

There was a thin ribbon of a trail that led through the forest here, or I
wouldn't risk wandering on my own like this. My sense of direction was
hopeless; I could get lost in much less helpful surroundings. The trail
wound deeper and deeper into the forest, mostly east as far as I could
tell. It snaked around the Sitka spruces and the hemlocks, the yews and
the maples. I only vaguely knew the names of the trees around me, and all
I knew was due to Charlie pointing them out to me from the cruiser window
in earlier days. There were many I didn't know, and others I couldn't be
sure about because they were so covered in green parasites.

I followed the trail as long as my anger at myself pushed me forward. As
that started to ebb, I slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down from
the canopy above me, but I couldn't be certain if it was beginning to
rain or if it was simply pools left over from yesterday, held high in the
leaves above me, slowly dripping their way back to the earth. A recently
fallen tree — I knew it was recent because it wasn't entirely carpeted in
moss — rested against the trunk of one of her sisters, creating a
sheltered little bench just a few safe feet off the trail. I stepped over
the ferns and sat carefully, making sure my jacket was between the damp
seat and my clothes wherever they touched, and leaned my hooded head back
against the living tree.

This was the wrong place to have come. I should have known, but where
else was there to go? The forest was deep green and far too much like the
scene in last night's dream to allow for peace of mind. Now that there
was no longer the sound of my soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing.
The birds were quiet, too, the drops increasing in frequency, so it must
be raining above. The ferns stood higher than my head, now that I was
seated, and I knew someone could walk by on the path, three feet away,
and not see me.

Here in the trees it was much easier to believe the absurdities that
embarrassed me indoors. Nothing had changed in this forest for thousands
of years, and all the myths and legends of a hundred different lands
seemed much more likely in this green haze than they had in my clear-cut
bedroom.

I forced myself to focus on the two most vital questions I had to answer,
but I did so unwillingly.

First, I had to decide if it was possible that what Jacob had said about
the Cullens could be true.

Immediately my mind responded with a resounding negative. It was silly
and morbid to entertain such ridiculous notions. But what, then? I asked
myself. There was no rational explanation for how I was alive at this
moment. I listed again in my head the things I'd observed myself: the
impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from black to gold

and back again, the inhuman beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more —
small things that registered slowly — how they never seemed to eat, the
disturbing grace with which they moved. And the way be

sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit the
style of a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-century
classroom. He had skipped class the day we'd done blood typing. He hadn't
said no to the beach trip till he heard where we were going. He seemed to
know what everyone around him was thinking… except me. He had told me he
was the villain, dangerous…

Could the Cullens be vampires?

Well, they were something. Something outside the possibility of rational
justification was taking place in front of my incredulous eyes. Whether
it be Jacob's cold ones or my own superhero theory, Edward Cullen was
not… human. He was something more.

So then — maybe. That would have to be my answer for now.

And then the most important question of all. What was I going to do if it
was true?

If Edward was a vampire — I could hardly make myself think the words —
then what should I do? Involving someone else was definitely out. I
couldn't even believe myself; anyone I told would have me committed.

Only two options seemed practical. The first was to take his advice: to
be smart, to avoid him as much as possible. To cancel our plans, to go
back to ignoring him as far as I was able. To pretend there was an
impenetrably thick glass wall between us in the one class where we were
forced together. To tell him to leave me alone — and mean it this time.

I was gripped in a sudden agony of despair as I considered that
alternative. My mind rejected the pain, quickly skipping on to the next
option.

I could do nothing different. After all, if he was something… sinister,
he'd done nothing to hurt me so far. In fact, I would be a dent in
Tyler's fender if he hadn't acted so quickly. So quickly, I argued with
myself, that it might have been sheer reflexes. But if it was a reflex to
save lives, how bad could he be? I retorted. My head spun around in
answerless circles.

There was one thing I was sure of, if I was sure of anything. The dark
Edward in my dream last night was a reflection only of my fear of the
word Jacob had spoken, and not Edward himself. Even so, when I'd screamed
out in terror at the werewolf's lunge, it wasn't fear for the wolf that
brought the cry of "no" to my lips. It was fear that he would be harmed —
even as he called to me with sharp-edged fangs, I feared for him.

And I knew in that I had my answer. I didn't know if there ever was a
choice, really. I was already in too deep. Now that I knew — if I knew —
I could do nothing about my frightening secret. Because when I thought of
him, of his voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his
personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now. Even
if… but I couldn't think it. Not here, alone in the darkening forest. Not
while the rain made it dim as twilight under the canopy and pattered like
footsteps across the matted earthen floor. I shivered and rose quickly
from my place of concealment, worried that somehow the path would have
disappeared with the rain.

But it was there, safe and clear, winding its way out of the dripping
green maze. I followed it hastily, my hood pulled close around my face,
becoming surprised, as I nearly ran through the trees, at how far I had
come. I started to wonder if I was heading out at all, or following the
path farther into the confines of the forest. Before I could get too
panicky, though, I began to glimpse some open spaces through the webbed
branches. And then I could hear a car passing on the street, and I was
free, Charlie's lawn stretched out in front of me, the house beckoning
me, promising warmth and dry socks.

It was just noon when I got back inside. I went upstairs and got dressed
for the day, jeans and a t-shirt, since I was staying indoors. It didn't
take too much effort to concentrate on my task for the day, a paper on
Macbeth that was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft
contentedly, more serene than I'd felt since… well, since Thursday
afternoon, if I was being honest.

That had always been my way, though. Making decisions was the painful
part for me, the part I agonized over. But once the decision was made, I
simply followed through — usually with relief that the choice was made.
Sometimes the relief was tainted by despair, like my decision to come to
Forks. But it was still better than wrestling with the alternatives.

This decision was ridiculously easy to live with. Dangerously easy.

And so the day was quiet, productive — I finished my paper before eight.
Charlie came home with a large catch, and I made a mental note to pick up
a book of recipes for fish while I was in Seattle next week. The chills
that flashed up my spine whenever I thought of that trip were no
different than the ones I'd felt before I'd taken my walk with Jacob
Black. They should be different, I thought. I should be afraid — I knew I
should be, but I couldn't feel the right kind of fear.

I slept dreamlessly that night, exhausted from beginning my day so early,
and sleeping so poorly the night before. I woke, for the second time
since arriving in Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I
skipped to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in
the sky, and those there were just fleecy little white puffs that
couldn't possibly be carrying any rain. I opened the window — surprised
when it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened it in who
knows how many years — and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was
nearly warm and hardly windy at all. My blood was electric in my veins.

Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up
on my mood immediately.

"Nice day out," he commented.

"Yes," I agreed with a grin.

He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Charlie
smiled, it was easier to see why he and my mother had jumped too quickly
into an early marriage. Most of the young romantic he'd been in those
days had faded before I'd known him, as the curly brown hair — the same
color, if not the same texture, as mine — had dwindled, slowly revealing
more and more of the shiny skin of his forehead. But when he smiled I
could see a little of the man who had run away with Renée when she was
just two years older than I was now.

I ate breakfast cheerily, watching the dust moats stirring in the
sunlight that streamed in the back window. Charlie called out a goodbye,
and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way
out the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave
it home. With a sigh, I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the
brightest light I'd seen in months.

By dint of much elbow grease, I was able to get both windows in the truck
almost completely rolled down. I was one of the first ones to school; I
hadn't even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I parked and
headed toward the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the
cafeteria. The benches were still a little damp, so I sat on my jacket,
glad to have a use for it. My homework was done — the product of a slow
social life — but there were a few Trig problems I wasn't sure I had
right. I took out my book industriously, but halfway through rechecking
the first problem I was daydreaming, watching the sunlight play on the
red-barked trees. I sketched inattentively along the margins of my
homework. After a few minutes, I suddenly realized I'd drawn five pairs
of dark eyes staring out of the page at me. I scrubbed them out with the
eraser.

"Bella!" I heard someone call, and it sounded like Mike.

I looked around to realize that the school had become populated while I'd
been sitting there, absentminded. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in
shorts though the temperature couldn't be over sixty. Mike was coming
toward me in khaki shorts and a striped Rugby shirt, waving.

"Hey, Mike," I called, waving back, unable to be halfhearted on a morning
like this.

He came to sit by me, the tidy spikes of his hair shining golden in the
light, his grin stretching across his face. He was so delighted to see
me, I couldn't help but feel gratified.

"I never noticed before — your hair has red in it," he commented,
catching between his fingers a strand that was fluttering in the light
breeze.

"Only in the sun."

I became just a little uncomfortable as he tucked the lock behind my ear.

"Great day, isn't it?"

"My kind of day," I agreed.

"What did you do yesterday?" His tone was just a bit too proprietary.

"I mostly worked on my essay." I didn't add that I was finished with it —
no need to sound smug.

He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Oh yeah — that's due
Thursday, right?"

"Um, Wednesday, I think."

"Wednesday?" He frowned. "That's not good… What are you writing yours on?"

"Whether Shakespeare's treatment of the female characters is
misogynistic."

He stared at me like I'd just spoken in pig Latin.

"I guess I'll have to get to work on that tonight," he said, deflated. "I
was going to ask if you wanted to go out."

"Oh." I was taken off guard. Why couldn't I ever have a pleasant
conversation with Mike anymore without it getting awkward?

"Well, we could go to dinner or something… and I could work on it later."
He smiled at me hopefully.

"Mike…" I hated being put on the spot. "I don't think that would be the
best idea."

His face fell. "Why?" he asked, his eyes guarded. My thoughts flickered
to Edward, wondering if that's where his thoughts were as well.

"I think… and if you ever repeat what I'm saying right now I will
cheerfully beat you to death," I threatened, "but I think that would hurt
Jessica's feelings."

He was bewildered, obviously not thinking in that direction at all.
"Jessica?"

"Really, Mike, are you blind?"

"Oh," he exhaled — clearly dazed. I took advantage of that to make my
escape.

"It's time for class, and I can't be late again." I gathered my books up
and stuffed them in my bag.

We walked in silence to building three, and his expression was

distracted. I hoped whatever thoughts he was immersed in were leading him
in the right direction.

When I saw Jessica in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She,
Angela, and Lauren were going to Port Angeles tonight to go dress
shopping for the dance, and she wanted me to come, too, even though I
didn't need one. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town
with some girlfriends, but Lauren would be there. And who knew what I
could be doing tonight… But that was definitely the wrong path to let my
mind wander down. Of course I was happy about the sunlight. But that
wasn't completely responsible for the euphoric mood I was in, not even
close.

So I gave her a maybe, telling her I'd have to talk with Charlie first.

She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as
if without an interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late,
and we were on our way to lunch. I was far too lost in my own frenzy of
anticipation to notice much of what she said. I was painfully eager to
see not just him but all the Cullens — to compare them with the new
suspicions that plagued my mind. As I crossed the threshold of the
cafeteria, I felt the first true tingle of fear slither down my spine and
settle in my stomach. Would they be able to know what I was thinking? And
then a different feeling jolted through me — would Edward be waiting to
sit with me again?

As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens' table. A shiver of
panic trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty. With dwindling
hope, my eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find him
alone, waiting for me. The place was nearly filled — Spanish had made us
late — but there was no sign of Edward or any of his family. Desolation
hit me with crippling strength.

I shambled along behind Jessica, not bothering to pretend to listen
anymore.

We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I avoided the
empty chair next to Mike in favor of one by Angela. I vaguely noticed
that Mike held the chair out politely for Jessica, and that her face lit
up in response.

Angela asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, which I
answered as naturally as I could while spiraling downward in misery. She,
too, invited me to go with them tonight, and I agreed now, grasping at
anything to distract myself.

I realized I'd been holding on to a last shred of hope when I entered
Biology, saw his empty seat, and felt a new wave of disappointment.

The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. In Gym, we had a lecture on
the rules of badminton, the next torture they had lined up for me. But at
least it meant I got to sit and listen instead of stumbling around on the
court. The best part was the coach didn't finish, so I got another day
off tomorrow. Never mind that the day after they would arm me with a
racket before unleashing me on the rest of the class.

I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free to pout and mope before I
went out tonight with Jessica and company. But right after I walked in
the door of Charlie's house, Jessica called to cancel our plans. I tried
to be happy that Mike had asked her out to dinner — I really was relieved
that he finally seemed to be catching on — but my enthusiasm sounded
false in my own ears. She rescheduled our shopping trip for tomorrow
night.

Which left me with little in the way of distractions. I had fish
marinating for dinner, with a salad and bread left over from the night
before, so there was nothing to do there. I spent a focused half hour on
homework, but then I was through with that, too. I checked my e-mail,
reading the backlog of letters from my mother, getting snippier as they
progressed to the present. I sighed and typed a quick response.

Mom,

Sorry. I've been out. I went to the beach with some friends. And I had to
write a paper.



My excuses were fairly pathetic, so I gave up on that.



It's sunny outside today - I know, I'm shocked, too - so I'm going to go
outside and soak up as much vitamin D as I can. I love you,

Bella.



I decided to kill an hour with non-school-related reading. I had a small
collection of books that came with me to Forks, the shabbiest volume
being a compilation of the works of Jane Austen. I selected that one and
headed to the backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from the linen
cupboard at the top of the stairs on my way down.

Outside in Charlie's small, square yard, I folded the quilt in half and
laid it out of the reach of the trees' shadows on the thick lawn that
would always be slightly wet, no matter how long the sun shone. I lay on
my stomach, crossing my ankles in the air, flipping through the different
novels in the book, trying to decide which would occupy my mind the most
thoroughly. My favorites were Pride and Prejudice and Sense and
Sensibility. I'd read the first most recently, so I started into Sense
and Sensibility, only to remember after I began three that the hero of
the story happened to be named Edward. Angrily, I turned to Mansfield
Park, but the hero of that piece was named Edmund, and that was just too
close. Weren't there any other names available in the late eighteenth
century? I snapped the book shut, annoyed, and rolled over onto my back.
I pushed my sleeves up as high as they would go, and closed my eyes. I
would think of nothing but the warmth on my skin, I told myself severely.
The breeze was still light, but it blew tendrils of my hair around my
face, and that tickled a bit. I pulled all my hair over my head, letting
it fan out on the quilt above me, and focused again on the heat that
touched my eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my lips, my forearms, my
neck, soaked through my light shirt…

The next thing I was conscious of was the sound of Charlie's cruiser
turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up in surprise, realizing
the light was gone, behind the trees, and I had fallen asleep. I looked
around, muddled, with the sudden feeling that I wasn't alone.

"Charlie?" I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of the
house.

I jumped up, foolishly edgy, gathering the now-damp quilt and my book. I
ran inside to get some oil heating on the stove, realizing that dinner
would be late. Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of
his boots when I came in.

"Sorry, Dad, dinner's not ready yet — I fell asleep outside." I stifled a
yawn.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I wanted to catch the score on the
game, anyway."

I watched TV with Charlie after dinner, for something to do. There wasn't
anything on I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn't like baseball, so he
turned it to some mindless sitcom that neither of us enjoyed. He seemed
happy, though, to be doing something together. And it felt good, despite
my depression, to make him happy.

"Dad," I said during a commercial, "Jessica and Angela are going to look
at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted

me to help them choose… do you mind if I go with them?"

"Jessica Stanley?" he asked.

"And Angela Weber." I sighed as I gave him the details.

He was confused. "But you're not going to the dance, right?"

"No, Dad, but I'm helping them find dresses — you know, giving them
constructive criticism." I wouldn't have to explain this to a woman.

"Well, okay." He seemed to realize that he was out of his depth with the
girlie stuff. "It's a school night, though."

"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You'll be okay
for dinner, right?"

"Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here," he
reminded me.

"I don't know how you survived," I muttered, then added more clearly,
"I'll leave some things for cold-cut sandwiches in the fridge, okay?
Right on top."

It was sunny again in the morning. I awakened with renewed hope that I
grimly tried to suppress. I dressed for the warmer weather in a deep blue
V-neck blouse — something I'd worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix.

I had planned my arrival at school so that I barely had time to make it
to class. With a sinking heart, I circled the full lot looking for a
space, while also searching for the silver Volvo that was clearly not
there. I parked in the last row and hurried to English, arriving
breathless, but subdued, before the final bell.

It was the same as yesterday — I just couldn't keep little sprouts of
hope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully as I
searched the lunchroom in vain and sat at my empty Biology table.

The Port Angeles scheme was back on again for tonight and made all the
more attractive by the fact that Lauren had other obligations. I was
anxious to get out of town so I could stop glancing over my shoulder,
hoping to see him appearing out of the blue the way he always did. I
vowed to myself that I would be in a good mood tonight and not ruin
Angela's or Jessica's enjoyment in the dress hunting. Maybe I could do a
little clothes shopping as well. I refused to think that I might be
shopping alone in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested in the
earlier arrangement. Surely he wouldn't cancel without at least telling
me.

After school, Jessica followed me home in her old white Mercury so that I
could ditch my books and truck. I brushed through my hair quickly when I
was inside, feeling a slight lift of excitement as I contemplated getting
out of Forks. I left a note for Charlie on the table, explaining again
where to find dinner, switched my scruffy wallet from my school bag to a
purse I rarely used, and ran out to join Jessica. We went to Angela's
house next, and she was waiting for us. My excitement increased
exponentially as we actually drove out of the town limits.
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离开时才明白，真的只有一个人走。
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第六章：惊悚故事
第六章 惊悚故事

当我坐在我的房间里，试图把注意力集中在《麦克白》的第三幕时，我依然竖起耳朵注意听着我的卡车的动静。我本来以为，即使透过磅礴大雨，那个引擎的咆哮依然能够传进我的耳中。但当我从窗帘后往外偷看——才第二次——的时候，它忽然就在那儿了。

我一点儿也不渴望星期五的到来，但那天的情形远远超出了我悲观的预期。当然，这里面有那次晕厥事件的因素。杰西卡似乎相当渴望得到有关那个故事的谈资。幸运地是，迈克守口如瓶，所以似乎没人知道爱德华也掺和进来了。尽管，她确实问了不少关于那次午餐的问题。

“那么，昨天爱德华.卡伦到底想干嘛？”三角函数课上，杰西卡问道。

“我不知道。”我如实答道。“他一直没说到点子上。”

“那时你看上去有点抓狂。”她迂回地试探着。

“真的？”我让自己保持面无表情。

“你知道，之前我从没见过他跟他家人以外的任何人一起坐。这太不可思议了。”

“不可思议。”我附和着。她似乎有些生气。她不耐烦地拨开了她的黑色卷发——我猜她本来希望能听到一些更有助于她编个好故事来散播的内容的。

星期五最糟糕的部分在于，尽管我早就知道他不会在那里的，我还是满心期待着。当我和杰西卡还有迈克一起走向自助餐厅的时候，我没法让自己别去看他的桌子。罗莎莉，爱丽丝和贾斯帕正坐在桌子旁，三个脑袋凑到一起聊着天。当我意识到，我不知道要等多久才能再见到他时，我茫然无措地任凭自己被卷入忧郁的深渊之中。

在我通常所坐的桌子旁，每个人都在谈论着我们第二天的计划。迈克又活跃了起来，信誓旦旦地支持着那位保证明天一定会放晴的本地天气预报员。我向来只相信眼见为实。但今天确实变暖和了——差不多有六十华氏度。或许这次远足不会变成一个全然的悲剧。

午餐的时候，我从劳伦那里截获了好几个充满敌意的眼神，但直到我们一起走出屋子，我才明白发生了什么事。我走在她后面，离她光滑发亮的银发只有一英尺的距离，而她显然没有注意到我。

“……不明白为什么贝拉”——她轻蔑地笑着，提到了我的名字——“不从现在开始就跟卡伦一家坐在一起。”

我听到她在和迈克窃窃私语着。我之前从没注意到她的鼻音是那么的讨厌，而我也被她话里的恶意吓了一跳。我跟她一点儿都不熟，肯定还没有熟到她会讨厌我的地步——或者，事实确实如我想的那样。“她是我的朋友，她和我们坐在一起。”迈克忠诚地低声回敬道，但多多少少是出于领土意识。我停下来，让杰西和安吉拉走到我前面。我不想再听下去了。

那天晚上吃晚餐的时候，查理似乎对我早上的拉普什之旅很热心。我想他是在为周末时总把我一个人留在家而感到内疚，但这是他多少年来养成的习惯，一时半会很难改过来。当然，他知道一起去的所有孩子的名字，还有他们的父母的名字，也许，还有他们祖父母的名字。他似乎很赞同这个计划。我有点想知道他会不会赞同我和爱德华.卡伦一起开车去西雅图的计划。但我不打算告诉他。

“爸爸，你知不知道一个叫山羊岩，或者类似这样的地方？我想它是在雷尼尔山的南部。”我若无其事地问道。

“知道——怎么了？”

我耸耸肩。“有些孩子在讨论着去那里野营。”

“那可不是个野营的好地方。”他听起来很吃惊。“有太多熊了。人们通常在狩猎季节的时候才会去那里。”

“哦，”我低声说道。“也许我把名字记错了。”  

我差点睡过头，但一种不同寻常的光亮让我醒了过来。我睁开眼睛，看到一道明黄色的光正从我的窗外照射进来。我简直不敢相信自己的眼睛。我冲到窗前看个究竟，然后确定，那确实是太阳。虽然它不在天空中它通常应该在的地方——太低了——而且显得太远了，它本应该更近一些的。但它是货真价实的太阳。地平线上镶嵌了一圈云朵，但在天空正中，一大块的蓝色清晰可见。我在窗前徘徊着，尽可能多待一会儿，生怕我一离开那片蓝色就又消失不见了。

牛顿家的奥林匹克旅行用品商店就在镇子的北边。我见过这家商店，但我从没停下来过——我对适用于长时间待在户外的设备需求不大。在停车场，我认出了迈克的雪佛兰巨无霸越野车和泰勒的丰田花冠。当我把车停到他们的车旁时，我看到了站在巨无霸前面的那帮人。埃里克在那里，跟两个和我一起上过课的男生在一块儿。我很确定他们的名字是本和科纳。杰西也在那里，站在安吉拉和劳伦中间。另外三个女孩和她们站在一起，我记得我周五时曾摔在了其中一个女孩身上。当我走下卡车的时候，那个女孩轻蔑地看了我一眼，低声跟劳伦说了些什么。劳伦甩开像玉米穗一样的头发，轻蔑地看着我。

因此，这将成为这些日子的一部分。

至少迈克很高兴见到我。

“你来啦！”他高兴地喊道。“我说过今天会放晴的，对吧？”
“我告诉过你我会来的。”我提醒他。

“我们只要再等一下李和萨曼塔……除非你还邀请了别人。”迈克补充道。

“没有。”我稍稍撒了个谎，希望不会被抓个正着。但我同样期待着有奇迹发生，期待着爱德华出现在这里。

迈克看上去很满意。

“你要坐我的车吗？我们开这辆还有李的妈妈的迷你货车。”

“当然是坐你的车。”

他喜滋滋地笑了起来。让迈克开心实在是件很容易的事。
但是深得我心的是，人数解决了问题。李多带了两个人，忽然间每个座位都派上了用场。我成功地把杰西安排进了我和迈克之中，三个人一起坐在了巨无霸的前排。迈克本来会更高兴些的，但至少杰西卡是消停了。

从福克斯到拉普什只有十五英里，繁茂浓绿的森林几乎一路裹着公路向前绵延着，宽广的quillayute河蜿蜒着在林中出现了两次。我很高兴我坐在了靠窗的位置。我们把窗摇下来——这辆巨无霸塞了九个人，会让人得幽闭恐惧症的——我试图吸收尽可能多的阳光。

当我还在福克斯过暑假的时候，我和查理一起去过很多次拉普什周围的海滩。所以那片一英里长的新月形的第一湾对我来说毫不陌生。那里依然美极了。即使是在阳光下，海水依然是暗灰色的，覆盖着雪白的泡沫，击打着灰色的布满岩礁的海岸。岛屿耸立在港湾里钢铸般平静的海面上，四面都是悬崖绝壁，怪石嶙峋，顶上长满了险峻高大的杉树。沙滩上只有沿着海边的窄窄一片是货真价实的沙子，沙地后逐渐过渡为成千上万的巨大的平滑的礁石。远远看过去，所有的礁石都是一模一样的灰色。只有当走近的时候你才会发现，每块石头下面的荫凉处都是不同的颜色：棕橙色，海绿色，淡紫色，蓝灰色，暗金色。海岸线上点缀着巨大的浮木，它们被海水漂成了骨白色，有些堆叠在森林的边缘，有些孤零零的躺在海滩上，刚好处在海浪拍打不到的地方。

凛冽的风呼啸着掠过海浪，冷冷的，带着些许咸味。鹈鹕漂浮在浪头上，成群的海鸥和一只长鹰在它们头上盘旋着。云层依然围在天边，威胁着随时都可能侵袭过来，但到目前为止太阳依然勇敢地从那圈蓝天里照射进来。

我们循路走下沙滩，迈克在前头领路，把我们带向一圈圆浮木。显然，这圈浮木之前也曾为像我们这样的成群结队的旅人服务过。那里有个摆得恰到好处的篝火堆，上面铺满了黑色的灰烬。埃里克和另一个男孩——我想他的名字是本——从树林边缘干燥的木头堆里收集了不少破碎的浮木块，然后很快在那些经年累月的灰烬上垒起了一个摇摇晃晃的木架。

“你见过浮木篝火吗？”迈克问我。我坐在其中一张骨白色的长凳上，别的女孩都聚在一起，兴奋地说着闲话，坐在了我的另一边。迈克跪在篝火旁，正在用打火机点燃其中一根比较细的干枝。

“没有。”我说，看着他把那个熊熊燃烧着的细枝小心地放到那堆摇摇晃晃的木架上。

“那你一定会喜欢这个的——看它的颜色。”他点燃了另一根树枝，并排着放到刚才那根树枝旁。火焰开始迅速地吞没着干燥的木块。

“那是蓝色的！”我惊讶地说。

“因为有盐。很漂亮，对吧？”他又点燃了一片木屑，放到木架上火还没烧到的地方，然后过来坐到我旁边。谢天谢地，杰西坐在他的另一边。她转向他，努力吸引他的注意力。我看着那堆古怪的蓝绿色火焰冲着天空劈啪作响。

我们漫无边际地闲聊了半个小时后，有几个男孩想到潮汐池周围走走。这实在让人进退两难。一方面，我喜欢潮汐池。当我还是个孩子的时候，就开始对它们着迷了。从前当我到福克斯来的时候，它们是我唯一盼望着的事物。另一方面，我也常常掉进潮汐池里。当你只有七岁，和爸爸在一起的时候，这没什么大不了的。但这让我想起了爱德华的请求——别让我自己掉进海里。

是劳伦促使我最终作出了决定。她不想去远足，而且她显然穿着不适合徒步旅行的鞋子。除了安吉拉和杰西卡，大部分女孩都决定也留在沙滩上。我一直等到泰勒和埃里克被委托留下来陪她们以后，才默默地加入了去远足的那一组。当迈克看到我加入的时候，他给了我一个大大的笑脸。

这次远足不算太漫长，虽然我一向讨厌待在林子里，因为看不到天空。森林里的绿光和少年人的笑声有一种古怪的不协调感，这里太阴森了，有一种不祥的气氛，跟我周围的轻松的调笑一点儿也不搭调。我不得不留神看着自己踏下的每一步，提防着底下的树根和顶上的树枝，很快被落在了后头。最终，我冲出了森林里翡翠色的藩篱，重新看见了布满岩礁的海岸。正是落潮时分，一条潮汐河涌动着从我们面前流过，奔向大海。沿着布满砾石的海岸上，一湾湾浅浅的水池从未干涸过，总是盈满了生机。

我非常谨慎，尽量离这些小海池远些。别的人就大胆多了，他们纵身跳过一块块礁石，准确地落在石头边上。在其中一个最大的潮汐池边上，我发现了一块看上去非常牢固的石头，便小心翼翼地坐到那里，被我脚边的天然鱼缸迷住了。一簇簇绚丽多彩的海葵在水流里永不止息地摇曳生姿，海星一动不动地粘在石头上和石缝里。一条小小的长满了白色斑纹的黑鳗鱼穿梭在绿意盎然的水草间，等着大海的归来。我完全沉浸在其中，只剩下脑海里的一小部分还在想着爱德华现在在做什么，试图幻想着如果他正在这里和我一起，他会说些什么。  

男孩们最终觉得饿了，我僵直地站起来，跟着他们回去。这次我试图在穿越林子的时候跟紧些，所以很自然地，我摔倒了好几次。我的手腕上留下了一些浅浅的擦伤，我的牛仔裤的膝部被染成了绿色，但情况本可以更糟的。

当我们回到第一湾的时候，被我们留下来的那群人变多了。当我们走近些的时候，我们能看到新来者发亮的直发和红铜色的肌肤，他们是一群来自保留地的青少年，到这里来交朋友的。

他们已经开始分发食物了，当我们一个个走进浮木圈的时候，埃里克逐个介绍着我们的名字，男孩们却急不可耐地要求着自己那份食物。安吉拉和我是最后到的，当埃里克说出我们的名字时，我注意到一个坐在篝火旁的石头上，年纪比我小一些的男孩感兴趣地抬头看了过来。我坐到安吉拉身旁，迈克给我们拿来了三明治，还有一排苏打水任我们挑选。这时那群访客里看上去最年长的男孩开始喋喋不休地介绍起和他一起来的另外七个人的名字。我唯一能听进去的是其中一个女孩也叫杰西卡，而那个注意过我的男孩名叫雅克布。

和安吉拉坐在一起是一件让人放松的事，她是那种能给周围的人休息的人——她不认为需要用闲聊来填满每一段沉默。当我们吃东西的时候，她让我不受干扰地自由地思索着。我在想着，在福克斯度过的时光是那么的支离破碎，有时候时间过得飞快，模糊了记忆中的一切，只有几幅简单的画面凸显出来，比别的画面显得更清晰些。然而，别的一些时候，每一秒都显得那么的重要，深深地烙在了我的心上。我清楚地知道是什么导致了不同，但这更让我感到困扰。

在我们吃午饭的时候，云层开始向前推移，偷偷地蚕食着蓝天，随时都有可能冲到太阳跟前，在海滩上留下长长的阴影，让海浪变得一片漆黑。他们吃完东西以后，开始三三两两地散开。有些走下海滩走到海浪的边缘，试着跃过波涛起伏的海面跳到岩礁上。另一些人聚拢在一起，准备再来一次潮汐池远征。迈克——杰西卡像影子一样跟着他——起身向村里的一个商店走去。几个本地的孩子跟他们一起去。别的孩子则加入到远足中去。等到他们都七零八落地走光了的时候，我独自坐在我的那根圆浮木，劳伦和泰勒占据了那个不知是谁想着带来的随身听。三个来自保留区的青少年围着篝火坐着，包括那个名叫雅克布的男孩，还有那个最年长的表现得像个发言人一样的男孩。

过了几分钟，安吉拉和那帮远足的人一起走了，雅克布漫步过来，坐到了我身边她的位置上。他看上去只有十四岁，或者十五岁，一头光滑平直的黑发被拢到头后用橡胶圈束着放在颈背上。他的肌肤很美丽，像丝绸一样光滑，是赤褐色的。他的眼睛很黑，深深地嵌在他高高的颧骨上。他的下巴依然留着一点婴儿肥的痕迹。总的说来，是一张相当俊美的脸。但是，我对他长相的良好印象被他说出口的第一句话给毁了。  
“你是伊莎贝拉.史温，对吧？”

就好像是到学校的第一天又历史重演了一样。

“贝拉。”我叹息道。

“我是雅克布.布莱克。”他友好地伸出了手。“你买下了我的车。”

“哦。”我如释重负地说着，握了握他光滑的手。“你是比利的儿子，我应该记得你的。”

“不，我是家里最小的孩子——你可能还记得我的姐姐们。”

“蕾切尔和丽贝卡。”我立刻想起来了。我到这里的时候，查理和比利常常把我们丢在一起，好让我们在他们钓鱼的时候忙个不停。我们都太害羞了，所以没能更进一步成为朋友。当然，当我十一岁的时候，我终于把我的怒火发作了出来，终结了钓鱼之旅。

“她们在这儿吗？”我审视着海边的那群女孩，想知道我现在还能不能把她们认出来。

“不，”雅克布摇着头说道。“蕾切尔拿到了一份奖学金，到华盛顿州念书去了。瑞贝卡和一个萨摩亚冲浪运动员结了婚——她现在住在夏威夷。”

“结婚，哇哦。”我大吃一惊。这对双胞胎只比我大一年多一点而已啊。
“那么，你觉得那辆卡车怎么样？”他问道。

“我很喜欢，它跑得好极了。”
“是的，但真的太慢了。”他大笑起来。“查理把它买下来的时候我简直如释重负，当我们家拥有这样一辆出色的好车时，我爸是不会让我再装配一辆车的。”
“它没那么慢。”我抗议道。

“你试过开到时速六十英里以上吗？”

“没有。”我承认。

“很好，千万别这样做。”他龇牙咧嘴地笑了起来。  

我不禁向他露齿一笑。“在事故里它表现得相当好。”我为自己的卡车辩护道。

“我认为就算是一辆坦_克也摧毁不了这个老怪物。”他又一次大笑起来，赞同道。

“那么，你会组装车子？”我对此印象深刻，于是问道。

“那得是我有空的时候，而且只是局部装配。你不会碰巧知道我能上哪儿弄一个1986年产的大众兔子的制动缸吧？”他打趣地补充道。他有着亲切沙哑的声线。

“抱歉，”我大笑起来。“我最近没见过这种东西，不过我会替你留意的。”就好像我知道那是什么东西一样。他实在是个容易攀谈的人。

灿烂的笑容在他脸上一闪而过，他看着我的眼神，显然是我正在学会辨别的那种。我不是唯一一个注意到这一点的人。

“你认识贝拉，雅克布？”劳伦从篝火那边发问道，我想她说话的腔调可以称得上是粗野无礼了。

“可以这么说，从我出生时起，我们就相识了。”他大笑着说，又一次冲着我微笑。

“真棒。”她的声音听起来一点儿也不像是觉得这很棒的样子，她暗淡无光的死鱼眼眯缝起来。  

“贝拉，”她一边唤着我的名字，一边仔细地盯着我的脸看。“我刚才还在和泰勒说着，今天卡伦家没有一个人来实在是太糟了。没有人想要邀请他们吗？”她关切的表情看上去很假。

“你是指卡莱尔.卡伦医生一家吗？”我还没来得及对劳伦的挑衅进行反击，那个高大的年长的男孩忽然开口问道。他真的更接近于一个成年男子而不是男孩，他的声音非常地低沉。

“是的，你认识他们？”她带着几份优越感问道，半路转过头去看着他。

“卡伦家的人不会来这里的。”他的语气里带着这个话题到此为止的意味，毫不理睬她的问题。

泰勒试图夺回她的注意，他问了劳伦对他手上的一张CD的意见。她被分了神，不再继续这个话题了。

我注视着那个声音低沉的男孩，对他所说的话震惊不已。但他已经移开了视线，凝视着我们身后的黑暗的森林。他说卡伦家的人不会来这里，但他的语气暗示了更多的信息——他们不被认可，他们是被禁止的存在。他的态度给我留下了一个奇怪的印象，我试着不去注意这一点，但没有成功。

雅克布打断了我的沉思。“那么，福克斯已经让你发狂了吗？”

“哦，我得说这是一种保守的描述。”我做了个鬼脸。他心领神会地咧嘴一笑。

我依然反复思索着那个针对卡伦一家的简短评论，然后灵光一闪。这实在是个愚蠢的计划，但我想不出更好的办法了。我衷心希望年轻的雅克布对应付女孩子还没有太多的经验，这样他就不会看穿我显然是出于同情的，另有企图的调情了。  

“你想和我一起去沙滩上走走吗？”我问道，试图模仿爱德华做过的那样，从眼睫毛下往上看。我当然知道，自己不可能做到和爱德华所做的相同的效果，但雅克布已经足够心甘情愿地跳起来了。

当我们一路向北，穿过多孔的礁石向浮木海堤走去的时候，云层最终铺满了天空，让海水变得黑暗起来，气温也下降了。我把手深深地揣进我夹克衫的口袋里。


“那么，你，满十六了吗？”我问道，学着我在电视上看过的那些女孩的样子眨巴着眼睛，尽量不让自己看起来像个傻瓜。

“我刚满十五岁。”他承认道，显然对我的奉承很是满意。

“真的？”我脸上堆满了虚伪的惊讶。“我还以为你的年纪会更大些。”

“就我的年纪而言，我的个子比较高。”他解释道。

“你常去福克斯吗？”我狡猾地问道，就好像我在期盼着一个肯定的回答一样。我觉得自己的声音听起来像个白痴一样。我很害怕他最终会嫌恶我，指责我的虚情假意。但他还是很高兴。

“不太常去。”他皱着眉承认道。“但等我把我的车弄好以后，我就能想去就去了——等我拿到驾照以后。”他稍微修正了一下。

“刚刚和劳伦说话的那个男孩是谁？他似乎老了些，不像是跟我们一起玩的年纪。”我刻意地把自己归类为年轻人，试图更明白地表示出我更喜欢雅克布。

“那是山姆——他十九岁了。”他告诉我。

“为什么他要那样说医生一家呢？”我一脸天真地问。

“卡伦一家？哦，他们不被允许来保留区。”他看向别处，望着远处的詹姆士岛。但他已经证实了我所认为的自己从山姆的语气里听出的东西。

“为什么不能呢？”

他回过头看着我，咬住了唇。“噢，我不应该说这些的。”

“哦，我不会告诉任何人的，我只是有点好奇而已。”我试图让自己的笑容显得更诱人些，但想着自己是不是做得有些过火了。

但他向我微笑着，显然已经上钩了。然后他挑起一侧眉头，声音变得比之前更为沙哑了。

“你喜欢听惊悚故事吗？”他用一种不祥的语气问道。

“我太喜欢了。”我热切地说着，竭力用眼神鼓励着他。

雅克布溜达着向旁边的一根浮木走去。这根浮木的根须张牙舞爪地伸展着，像是一只巨大的苍白的蜘蛛的无数只细腿。他轻巧地跳到其中一根扭曲的树根上坐下来，我坐在他的下方，坐到了树干上。他俯视着岩礁，一抹笑意在他宽厚的唇边上徘徊着。我看得出他正在努力组织语言。我专注地让自己的眼睛流露出兴致勃勃的神情。

“你听说过我们的古老故事吗？我是指，关于我们的来源——奎鲁特族？”他开始了。

“没有。”我承认道。

“嗯，这里面有很多传说，其中有些的内容可以追溯到大洪水时期——按照推测，古代的奎鲁特族人把他们的独木舟绑在了山上最高的一棵树的树顶，像诺亚方舟一样幸存了下来。”他微笑着，向我表明了他并不太相信这些历史。“另一个传说则声称我们是狼的后裔——现在这些狼依然是我们的兄弟。捕杀狼是违背部落法律的行为。”

“然后是关于冷族的故事。”他的声音压得更低了。
“冷族？”我问道，不再掩饰自己的阴谋了。

“是的。关于冷族的故事和狼的传说一样古老，有些则更近些。根据传说的内容，我的曾祖父曾经认识他们中的一些人。他和他们订下了条约，让他们远离我们的土地。”他转了转眼睛。

“你的曾祖父？”我鼓励着他说下去。  

“他是部落的长老，和我爸爸一样。你知道，冷族和狼是天生的死敌——嗯，好吧，不是普通的狼，而是那些可以化成人形的狼，比方说我们的祖先。你可以称他们为狼人。”

“狼人会有敌人吗？”

“只有一个。”

我诚恳地看着他，希望能掩饰住自己不安，让他理解为钦佩。

“所以，你看，”雅克布继续说道。“冷族向来是我们的敌人。但在我曾祖父的时候，我们的领地里来了一群不太一样的冷族。他们不像别的冷族一样狩猎——他们也不会威胁到我们的部族。所以我的曾祖父和他们签下了休战协定。只要他们保证离我们的领土远远的，我们就不拆穿他们苍白的真面目。”他向我眨着眼睛。

“如果他们并不危险，那为什么……？”我试图理解他的话，但努力不让他发现我在认真地思考着他的幽灵故事。

“人类和冷族靠得太近总是有风险的，即使他们像这个小团体一样已经文明开化了。你永远不能知道他们什么时候会忍耐不住饥饿。”他故意让自己的口吻里带上了浓浓的恐吓的味道。

“你说的‘文明开化’是什么意思？”

“他们声称他们不会狩猎人类。以此类推，他们大概能在某种程度上用捕食动物来替代。”

我试图让自己的声音显得漫不经心些：“那这跟卡伦一家有什么关系呢？他们很像你的曾祖父所遇到的那群冷族吗？”

“不是的。”他故意顿了顿。“他们是同一群人。”

他一定认为，我脸上恐惧的表情纯粹是被他的故事吓出来的。他开心地笑了，然后继续说道。

“现在他们的人数增加了，又增加了一个新来的女性和一个新来的男性，但剩下的还是原来那帮人。在我曾祖父的时代，他们就已经听说过那个领导者，卡莱尔。他来过这里，然后在你们的人到达以前就走了。”他抗拒地一笑。

“他们究竟是什么？”我最终问道。“冷族到底是什么？”

他阴郁地笑了。

“饮血者。”他用冷漠的语气答道。“你们的人称他们为吸血鬼。”

在他回答以后，我看向起伏不定的海面，不敢肯定我的表情是否已经泄露了一切。

“你浑身都起了鸡皮疙瘩。”他兴高采烈地大笑着。

“你是个很棒的说故事的人。”我称赞他，依然盯着阵阵浪涛。

“不过，确实是相当疯狂的内容，不是吗？难怪我爸不让我们跟任何人说这些。”

我依然没法控制自己的表情，只好不去看他。“别担心，我不会出卖你的。”

“我想，我刚刚违背了条约。”他大笑起来。

“我会把它带进坟墓的。”我保证道，然后哆嗦起来。

“不过，说真的，什么都别跟查理说。当他听说我们中的一些人自从卡伦医生开始在医院里工作以后就再也没去过医院的时候，他对我爸大发雷霆。”

“我不会说的，当然不会。”

“那么，你会觉得我们是一群迷信的土著还是别的什么吗？”他开玩笑地问道，却有些许担心的意味。我始终没把视线从海上移开。

我回过头，尽可能正常地冲他一笑。

“不会。但我觉得你很擅长说惊悚故事。我还在起鸡皮疙瘩，看见了吗？”我抬起我的胳膊。

“好极了。”他笑了起来。

然后，海滩上的碎石发出的喀拉喀拉声提醒我们有人来了。我们同时猛地回过头去，看见迈克和杰西卡在十五码外的地方，向我们走来。  
“原来你在这里，贝拉。”迈克如释重负地喊道，把手举过头顶用力地挥舞着。

“那是你的男朋友吗？”雅克布留意到了迈克的语气带着嫉妒的味道，于是问道。我很惊讶，原来这是那么的明显。

“不是，显然不是。”我耳语道。我对雅克布充满了感激之情，想要让他尽可能更高兴些。我转过脸去不再看迈克，向他眨了眨眼睛。他笑了，我笨拙的调情让他很是高兴。

“那等我拿到驾照以后……”他开口说道。

“你一定要来福克斯看我。我们得找时间聚一下。”当我说这些的时候，我感到一阵内疚，知道自己纯粹是在利用他。但我真的很喜爱雅克布，他是那种很容易和我成为朋友的人。

现在迈克已经走到我们跟前了，把杰西卡落在了几步之外。我能看出他的眼睛正在估量着雅克布，看上去对他明摆着的年幼感到很满意。

“你上哪儿去了？”他问道，尽管答案就摆在他面前。

“雅克布刚刚和我讲了几个当地的故事，”我主动说道。“相当地有趣。”

我温和地向雅克布笑了笑，他冲我眨了眨眼睛。

“嗯，”迈克顿了顿，在看到我们的友谊之后，他重新评估了情况。“我们正在收拾东西——看上去快要下雨了。”

我们都抬起头，看着阴森森的天际。看起来确实是要下雨的样子。

“好吧。”我跳下来。“我来了。”

“很高兴再次见到你。”雅克布说道，我敢说他是在小小地奚落了一下迈克。

“我确实很开心。下次查理来看比利的时候，我也会过来的。”我保证道。

他咧开大嘴，开心地笑了。“那一定很棒。”

“还有，谢谢。”我真挚地补充道。

当我们踩着碎石向停车场走去的时候，我拉上了兜帽。几滴雨水开始落下来，打在石块上，染出了一个个小黑点。我们走到巨无霸那里的时候，别的人已经把所有的东西都放上车了。我宣称自己已经坐过副驾驶座了，这次便爬进后座，跟安吉拉和泰勒坐在一块儿。安吉拉只是盯着窗外，看着越下越大的暴雨。劳伦从中座扭过头来，占据着泰勒的注意力。所以我可以单纯地把头靠在座位上，闭上双眼，努力不再去想任何东西。
6. SCARY STORIES




As I sat in my room, trying to concentrate on the third act of Macbeth, I
was really listening for my truck. I would have thought, even over the
pounding rain, I could have heard the engine's roar. But when I went to
peek out the curtain — again — it was suddenly there.

I wasn't looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to my
non-expectations. Of course there were the fainting comments. Jessica
especially seemed to get a kick out of that story. Luckily Mike had kept
his mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edward's involvement. She

did have a lot of questions about lunch, though.

"So what did Edward Cullen want yesterday?" Jessica asked in Trig.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "He never really got to the point."

"You looked kind of mad," she fished.

"Did I?" I kept my expression blank.

"You know, I've never seen him sit with anyone but his family before.
That was weird."

"Weird," I agreed. She seemed annoyed; she flipped her dark curls
impatiently — I guessed she'd been hoping to hear something that would
make a good story for her to pass on.

The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew he wasn't going
to be there, I still hoped. When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica
and Mike, I couldn't keep from looking at his table, where Rosalie,
Alice, and Jasper sat talking, heads close together. And I couldn't stop
the gloom that engulfed me as I realized I didn't know how long I would
have to wait before I saw him again.

At my usual table, everyone was full of our plans for the next day. Mike
was animated again, putting a great deal of trust in the local weatherman
who promised sun tomorrow. I'd have to see that before I believed it. But
it was warmer today — almost sixty. Maybe the outing wouldn't be
completely miserable.

I intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Lauren during lunch, which I
didn't understand until we were all walking out of the room together. I
was right behind her, just a foot from her slick, silver blond hair, and
she was evidently unaware of that.

"…don't know why Bella" — she sneered my name — "doesn't just sit with
the Cullens from now on."

I heard her muttering to Mike. I'd never noticed what an unpleasant,
nasal voice she had, and I was surprised by the malice in it. I really
didn't know her well at all, certainly not well enough for her to dislike
me — or so I'd thought. "She's my friend; she sits with us," Mike
whispered back loyally, but also a bit territorially. I paused to let
Jess and Angela pass me. I didn't want to hear any more.



That night at dinner, Charlie seemed enthusiastic about my trip to La
Push in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me home alone on
the weekends, but he'd spent too many years building his habits to break
them now. Of course he knew the names of all the kids going, and their
parents, and their great-grandparents, too, probably. He seemed to
approve. I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride to Seattle
with Edward Cullen. Not that I was going to tell him.

"Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks or something like that? I
think it's south of Mount Rainier," I asked casually.

"Yeah — why?"

I shrugged. "Some kids were talking about camping there."

"It's not a very good place for camping." He sounded surprised. "Too many
bears. Most people go there during the hunting season."

"Oh," I murmured. "Maybe I got the name wrong."

I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke me. I opened my eyes
to see a clear yellow light streaming through my window. I couldn't
believe it. I hurried to the window to check, and sure enough, there was
the sun. It was in the wrong place in the sky, too low, and it didn't
seem to be as close as it should be, but it was definitely the sun.

Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visible in the
middle. I lingered by the window as long as I could, afraid that if I
left the blue would disappear again.

The Newtons' Olympic Outfitters store was just north of town. I'd seen
the store, but I'd never stopped there — not having much need for any
supplies required for being outdoors over an extended period of time. In
the parking lot I recognized Mike's Suburban and Tyler's Sentra. As I
pulled up next to their vehicles, I could see the group standing around
in front of the Suburban. Eric was there, along with two other boys I had
class with; I was fairly sure their names were Ben and Conner. Jess was
there, flanked by Angela and Lauren. Three other girls stood with them,
including one I remembered falling over in Gym on Friday. That one gave
me a dirty look as I got out of the truck, and whispered something to
Lauren. Lauren shook out her cornsilk hair and eyed me scornfully.

So it was going to be one of those days.

At least Mike was happy to see me.

"You came!" he called, delighted. "And I said it would be sunny today,
didn't I?"

"I told you I was coming," I reminded him.

"We're just waiting for Lee and Samantha… unless you invited someone,"
Mike added.

"Nope," I lied lightly, hoping I wouldn't get caught in the lie. But also
wishing that a miracle would occur, and Edward would appear.

Mike looked satisfied.

"Will you ride in my car? It's that or Lee's mom's minivan."

"Sure."

He smiled blissfully. It was so easy to make Mike happy.

"You can have shotgun," he promised. I hid my chagrin. It wasn't as
simple to make Mike and Jessica happy at the same time. I could see
Jessica glowering at us now.

The numbers worked out in my favor, though. Lee brought two extra people,
and suddenly every seat was necessary. I managed to wedge Jess in between
Mike and me in the front seat of the Suburban. Mike could have been more
graceful about it, but at least Jess seemed appeased.

It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense
green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Quillayute
River snaking beneath it twice. I was glad I had the window seat. We'd
rolled the windows down — the Suburban was a bit claustrophobic with nine
people in it — and I tried to absorb as much sunlight as possible.

I'd been to the beaches around La Push many times during my Forks summers
with Charlie, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar to
me. It was still breathtaking. The water was dark gray, even in the
sunlight, white-capped and heaving to the gray, rocky shore. Islands rose
out of the steel harbor waters with sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven
summits, and crowned with austere, soaring firs. The beach had only a
thin border of actual sand at the water's edge, after which it grew into
millions of large, smooth stones that looked uniformly gray from a
distance, but close up were every shade a stone could be: terra-cotta,
sea green, lavender, blue gray, dull gold. The tide line was strewn with
huge driftwood trees, bleached bone white in the salt waves, some piled
together against the edge of the forest fringe, some lying solitary, just
out of reach of the waves.

There was a brisk wind coming off the waves, cool and briny. Pelicans
floated on the swells while seagulls and a lone eagle wheeled above them.
The clouds still circled the sky, threatening to invade at any moment,
but for now the sun shone bravely in its halo of blue sky.

We picked our way down to the beach, Mike leading the way to a ring of
driftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like ours before.
There was a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes. Eric
and the boy I thought was named Ben gathered broken branches of driftwood
from the drier piles against the forest edge, and soon had a
teepee-shaped construction built atop the old cinders.

"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" Mike asked me. I was sitting on
one of the bone-colored benches; the other girls clustered, gossiping
excitedly, on either side of me. Mike kneeled by the fire, lighting one
of the smaller sticks with a cigarette lighter.

"No," I said as he placed the blazing twig carefully against the teepee.

"You'll like this then — watch the colors." He lit another small branch
and laid it alongside the first. The flames started to lick quickly up
the dry wood.

"It's blue," I said in surprise.

"The salt does it. Pretty, isn't it?" He lit one more piece, placed it
where the fire hadn't yet caught, and then came to sit by me. Thankfully,
Jess was on his other side. She turned to him and claimed his attention.
I watched the strange blue and green flames crackle toward the sky.

After a half hour of chatter, some of the boys wanted to hike to the
nearby tidal pools. It was a dilemma. On the one hand, I loved the tide
pools. They had fascinated me since I was a child; they were one of the
only things I ever looked forward to when I had to come to Forks. On the
other hand, I'd also fallen into them a lot. Not a big deal when you're
seven and with your dad. It reminded me of Edward's request — that I not
fall into the ocean.

Lauren was the one who made my decision for me. She didn't want to hike,
and she was definitely wearing the wrong shoes for it. Most of the other
girls besides Angela and Jessica decided to stay on the beach as well. I
waited until Tyler and Eric had committed to remaining with them before I
got up quietly to join the pro-hiking group. Mike gave me a huge smile
when he saw that I was coming.

The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to lose the sky in the woods.
The green light of the forest was strangely at odds with the adolescent
laughter, too murky and ominous to be in harmony with the light banter
around me. I had to watch each step I took very carefully, avoiding roots
below and branches above, and I soon fell behind. Eventually I broke
through the emerald confines of the forest and found the rocky shore
again. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past us on its way to
the sea. Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools that never completely
drained were teeming with life.

I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little ocean ponds. The
others were fearless, leaping over the rocks, perching precariously on
the edges. I found a very stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the
largest pools and sat there cautiously, spellbound by the natural
aquarium below me. The bouquets of brilliant anemones undulated
ceaselessly in the invisible current, twisted shells scurried about the
edges, obscuring the crabs within them, starfish stuck motionless to the
rocks and each other, while one small black eel with white racing stripes
wove through the bright green weeds, waiting for the sea to return. I was
completely absorbed, except for one small part of my mind that wondered
what Edward was doing now, and trying to imagine what he would be saying
if he were here with me.

Finally the boys were hungry, and I got up stiffly to follow them back. I
tried to keep up better this time through the woods, so naturally I fell
a few times. I got some shallow scrapes on my palms, and the knees of my
jeans were stained green, but it could have been worse.

When we got back to First Beach, the group we'd left behind had
multiplied. As we got closer we could see the shining, straight black
hair and copper skin of the newcomers, teenagers from the reservation

come to socialize.

The food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried to claim a
share while Eric introduced us as we each entered the driftwood circle.
Angela and I were the last to arrive, and, as Eric said our names, I
noticed a younger boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up at me
in interest. I sat down next to Angela, and Mike brought us sandwiches
and an array of sodas to choose from, while a boy who looked to be the
oldest of the visitors rattled off the names of the seven others with
him. All I caught was that one of the girls was also named Jessica, and
the boy who noticed me was named Jacob.

It was relaxing to sit with Angela; she was a restful kind of person to
be around — she didn't feel the need to fill every silence with chatter.
She left me free to think undisturbed while we ate. And I was thinking
about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at
times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And
then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind. I
knew exactly what caused the difference, and it disturbed me.

During lunch the clouds started to advance, slinking across the blue sky,
darting in front of the sun momentarily, casting long shadows across the
beach, and blackening the waves. As they finished eating, people started
to drift away in twos and threes. Some walked down to the edge of the
waves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy surface. Others were
gathering a second expedition to the tide pools. Mike — with Jessica
shadowing him — headed up to the one shop in the village. Some of the
local kids went with them; others went along on the hike. By the time
they all had scattered, I was sitting alone on my driftwood log, with
Lauren and Tyler occupying themselves by the CD player someone had
thought to bring, and three teenagers from the reservation perched around
the circle, including the boy named Jacob and the oldest boy who had
acted as spokesperson.

A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jacob sauntered over to
take her place by my side. He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had
long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of his
neck. His skin was beautiful, silky and russet-colored; his eyes were
dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still had just
a hint of childish roundness left around his chin. Altogether, a very
pretty face. However, my positive opinion of his looks was damaged by the
first words out of his mouth.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"

It was like the first day of school all over again.

"Bella," I sighed.

"I'm Jacob Black." He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. "You
bought my dad's truck."

"Oh," I said, relieved, shaking his sleek hand. "You're Billy's son. I
probably should remember you."

"No, I'm the youngest of the family — you would remember my older
sisters."

"Rachel and Rebecca," I suddenly recalled. Charlie and Billy had thrown
us together a lot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. We
were all too shy to make much progress as friends. Of course, I'd kicked
up enough tantrums to end the fishing trips by the time I was eleven.

"Are they here?" I examined the girls at the ocean's edge, wondering if I
would recognize them now.

"No." Jacob shook his head. "Rachel got a scholarship to Washington
State, and Rebecca married a Samoan surfer — she lives in Hawaii now."

"Married. Wow." I was stunned. The twins were only a little over a year
older than I was.

"So how do you like the truck?" he asked.

"I love it. It runs great."

"Yeah, but it's really slow," he laughed. "I was so relived when Charlie
bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car when we
had a perfectly good vehicle right there."

"It's not that slow," I objected.

"Have you tried to go over sixty?"

"No," I admitted.

"Good. Don't." He grinned.

I couldn't help grinning back. "It does great in a collision," I offered
in my truck's defense.

"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," he agreed with
another laugh.

"So you build cars?" I asked, impressed.

"When I have free time, and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I
could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he
added jokingly. He had a pleasant, husky voice.

"Sorry," I laughed, "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes
open for you." As if I knew what that was. He was very easy to talk with.

He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at me appreciatively in a way I was
learning to recognize. I wasn't the only one who noticed.

"You know Bella, Jacob?" Lauren asked — in what I imagined was an
insolent tone — from across the fire.

"We've sort of known each other since I was born," he laughed, smiling at
me again.

"How nice." She didn't sound like she thought it was nice at all, and her
pale, fishy eyes narrowed.

"Bella," she called again, watching my face carefully, "I was just saying
to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today.
Didn't anyone think to invite them?" Her expression of concern was
unconvincing.

"You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family?" the tall, older boy asked before
I could respond, much to Lauren's irritation. He was really closer to a
man than a boy, and his voice was very deep.

"Yes, do you know them?" she asked condescendingly, turning halfway
toward him.

"The Cullens don't come here," he said in a tone that closed the subject,
ignoring her question.

Tyler, trying to win back her attention, asked Lauren's opinion on a CD
he held. She was distracted.

I stared at the deep-voiced boy, taken aback, but he was looking away
toward the dark forest behind us. He'd said that the Cullens didn't come
here, but his tone had implied something more — that they weren't
allowed; they were prohibited. His manner left a strange impression on
me, and I tried to ignore it without success.

Jacob interrupted my meditation. "So is Forks driving you insane yet?"

"Oh, I'd say that's an understatement." I grimaced. He grinned
understandingly.

I was still turning over the brief comment on the Cullens, and I had a
sudden inspiration. It was a stupid plan, but I didn't have any better
ideas. I hoped that young Jacob was as yet inexperienced around girls, so
that he wouldn't see through my sure-to-be-pitiful attempts at flirting.

"Do you want to walk down the beach with me?" I asked, trying to imitate
that way Edward had of looking up from underneath his eyelashes. It
couldn't have nearly the same effect, I was sure, but Jacob jumped up
willingly enough.

As we walked north across the multihued stones toward the driftwood
seawall, the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky, causing the sea
to darken and the temperature to drop. I shoved my hands deep into the
pockets of my jacket.

"So you're, what, sixteen?" I asked, trying not to look like an idiot as
I fluttered my eyelids the way I'd seen girls do on TV.

"I just turned fifteen," he confessed, flattered.

"Really?" My face was full of false surprise. "I would have thought you
were older."

"I'm tall for my age," he explained.

"Do you come up to Forks much?" I asked archly, as if I was hoping for a
yes. I sounded idiotic to myself. I was afraid he would turn on me with
disgust and accuse me of my fraud, but he still seemed flattered.

"Not too much," he admitted with a frown. "But when I get my car finished
I can go up as much as I want — after I get my license," he amended.

"Who was that other boy Lauren was talking to? He seemed a little old to
be hanging out with us." I purposefully lumped myself in with the
youngsters, trying to make it clear that I preferred Jacob.

"That's Sam — he's nineteen," he informed me.

"What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?" I asked
innocently.

"The Cullens? Oh, they're not supposed to come onto the reservation." He
looked away, out toward James Island, as he confirmed what I'd thought
I'd heard in Sam's voice.

"Why not?"

He glanced back at me, biting his lip. "Oops. I'm not supposed to say
anything about that."

"Oh, I won't tell anyone, I'm just curious." I tried to make my smile
alluring, wondering if I was laying it on too thick.

He smiled back, though, looking allured. Then he lifted one eyebrow and
his voice was even huskier than before.

"Do you like scary stories?" he asked ominously.

"I love them," I enthused, making an effort to smolder at him.

Jacob strolled to a nearby driftwood tree that had its roots sticking out
like the attenuated legs of a huge, pale spider. He perched lightly on
one of the twisted roots while I sat beneath him on the body of the tree.
He stared down at the rocks, a smile hovering around the edges of his
broad lips. I could see he was going to try to make this good. I focused
on keeping the vital interest I felt out of my eyes.

"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from — the
Quileutes, I mean?" he began.

"Not really," I admitted.

"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to
the Flood — supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the
tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive like Noah and the
ark." He smiled, to show me how little stock he put in the histories.
"Another legend claims that we descended from wolves — and that the
wolves are our brothers still. It's against tribal law to kill them.

"Then there are the stories about the cold ones." His voice dropped a
little lower.

"The cold ones?" I asked, not faking my intrigue now.

"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and
some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew
some of them. He was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our
land." He rolled his eyes.

"Your great-grandfather?" I encouraged.

"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the
natural enemies of the wolf—well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves
that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."

"Werewolves have enemies?"

"Only one."

I stared at him earnestly, hoping to disguise my impatience as admiration.

"So you see," Jacob continued, "the cold ones are traditionally our
enemies. But this pack that came to our territory during my
great-grandfather's time was different. They didn't hunt the way others
of their kind did — they weren't supposed to be dangerous to the tribe.
So my great-grandfather made a truce with them. If they would promise to
stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the pale-faces." He winked
at me.

"If they weren't dangerous, then why… ?" I tried to understand,
struggling not to let him see how seriously I was considering his ghost
story.

"There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if
they're civilized like this clan was. You never know when they might get
too hungry to resist." He deliberately worked a thick edge of menace into
his tone.

"What do you mean, 'civilized'?"

"They claimed that they didn't hunt humans. They supposedly were somehow
able to prey on animals instead."

I tried to keep my voice casual. "So how does it fit in with the Cullens?
Are they like the cold ones your greatgrandfather met?"

"No." He paused dramatically. "They are the same ones."

He must have thought the expression on my face was fear inspired by his
story. He smiled, pleased, and continued.

"There are more of them now, a new female and a new male, but the rest
are the same. In my great-grandfather's time they already knew of the
leader, Carlisle. He'd been here and gone before your people had even
arrived." He was fighting a smile.

"And what are they?" I finally asked. "What are the cold ones?"

He smiled darkly.

"Blood drinkers," he replied in a chilling voice. "Your people call them
vampires."

I stared out at the rough surf after he answered, not sure what my face

was exposing.

"You have goose bumps," he laughed delightedly.

"You're a good storyteller," I complimented him, still staring into the
waves.

"Pretty crazy stuff, though, isn't it? No wonder my dad doesn't want us
to talk about it to anyone."

I couldn't control my expression enough to look at him yet. "Don't worry,
I won't give you away."

"I guess I just violated the treaty," he laughed.

"I'll take it to the grave," I promised, and then I shivered.

"Seriously, though, don't say anything to Charlie. He was pretty mad at
my dad when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since
Dr. Cullen started working there."

"I won't, of course not."

"So do you think we're a bunch of superstitious natives or what?" he
asked in a playful tone, but with a hint of worry. I still hadn't looked
away from the ocean.

I turned and smiled at him as normally as I could.

"No. I think you're very good at telling scary stories, though. I still
have goose bumps, see?" I held up my arm.

"Cool." He smiled.

And then the sound of the beach rocks clattering against each other
warned us that someone was approaching. Our heads snapped up at the same
time to see Mike and Jessica about fifty yards away, walking toward us.

"There you are, Bella," Mike called in relief, waving his arm over his
head.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Jacob asked, alerted by the jealous edge in
Mike's voice. I was surprised it was so obvious.

"No, definitely not," I whispered. I was tremendously grateful to Jacob,
and eager to make him as happy as possible. I winked at him, carefully
turning away from Mike to do so. He smiled, elated by my inept flirting.

"So when I get my license…" he began.

"You should come see me in Forks. We could hang out sometime." I felt
guilty as I said this, knowing that I'd used him. But I really did like
Jacob. He was someone I could easily be friends with.

Mike had reached us now, with Jessica still a few paces back. I could see
his eyes appraising Jacob, and looking satisfied at his obvious youth.

"Where have you been?" he asked, though the answer was right in front of
him.

"Jacob was just telling me some local stories," I volunteered. "It was
really interesting."

I smiled at Jacob warmly, and he grinned back.

"Well," Mike paused, carefully reassessing the situation as he watched
our camaraderie. "We're packing up — it looks like it's going to rain
soon."

We all looked up at the glowering sky. It certainly did look like rain.

"Okay." I jumped up. "I'm coming."

"It was nice to see you again," Jacob said, and I could tell he was
taunting Mike just a bit.

"It really was. Next time Charlie comes down to see Billy, I'll come,
too," I promised.

His grin stretched across his face. "That would be cool."

"And thanks," I added earnestly.

I pulled up my hood as we tramped across the rocks toward the parking
lot. A few drops were beginning to fall, making black spots on the stones
where they landed. When we got to the Suburban the others were already
loading everything back in. I crawled into the backseat by Angela and
Tyler, announcing that I'd already had my turn in the shotgun position.
Angela just stared out the window at the escalating storm, and Lauren
twisted around in the middle seat to occupy Tyler's attention, so I could
simply lay my head back on the seat and close my eyes and try very hard
not to think.
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