The washing machine thumped and stuttered to a halt.
“Stupid piece of junk,” I muttered as I pulled away from him. I moved the one small towel that had unbalanced the otherwise empty machine, and started it again.
“This reminds me,” I said. “Could you ask Alice what she did with my stuff when she cleaned my room? I can’t find it anywhere.”
He looked at me with confused eyes. “Alice cleaned your room?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what she was doing. When she came to get my pajamas and pillow and stuff to hold me hostage.” I glowered at him briefly. “She picked up everything that was lying around, my shirts, my socks, and I don’t know where she put them.”
Edward continued to look confused for one short moment, and then, abruptly, he was rigid.
“When did you notice your things were missing?”
“When I got back from the fake slumber party. Why?”
“I don’t think Alice took anything. Not your clothes, or your pillow. The things that were taken, these were things you’d worn . . . and touched . . . and slept on?”
“Yes. What is it, Edward?”
His expression was strained. “Things with your scent.”
“Oh!”
We stared into each others eyes for a long moment.
“My visitor,” I muttered.
“He was gathering traces . . . evidence. To prove that he’d found you?”
“Why?” I whispered.
“I don’t know. But, Bella, I swear I will find out. I will.”
“I know you will,” I said, laying my head against his chest. Leaning there, I felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.
He pulled out his phone and glanced at the number. “Just the person I need to talk to,” he murmured, and then he flipped it open. “Carlisle, I —” He broke off and listened, his face taut with concentration for a few minutes. “I’ll check it out. Listen . . .”
He explained about my missing things, but from the side I was hearing, it sounded like Carlisle had no insights for us.
“Maybe I’ll go . . . ,” Edward said, trailing off as his eyes drifted toward me. “Maybe not. Don’t let Emmett go alone, you know how he gets. At least ask Alice keep an eye on things. We’ll figure this out later.”
He snapped the phone shut. “Where’s the paper?” he asked me.
“Um, I’m not sure. Why?”
“I need to see something. Did Charlie already throw it out?”
“Maybe. . . .”
Edward disappeared.
He was back in half a second, new diamonds in his hair, a wet newspaper in his hands. He spread it out on the table, his eyes scanning quickly across the headlines. He leaned in, intent on something he was reading, one finger tracing passages that interested him most.
“Carlisle’s right . . . yes . . . very sloppy. Young and crazed? Or a death wish?” he muttered to himself.
I went to peek over his shoulder.
The headline of the Seattle Times read: “Murder Epidemic Continues — Police Have No New Leads.”
It was almost the same story Charlie had been complaining about a few weeks ago — the big-city violence that was pushing Seattle up the national murder hot-spot list. It wasn’t exactly the same story, though. The numbers were a lot higher.
“It’s getting worse,” I murmured.
He frowned. “Altogether out of control. This can’t be the work of just one newborn vampire. What’s going on? It’s as if they’ve never heard of the Volturi. Which is possible, I guess. No one has explained the rules to them . . . so who is creating them, then?”
“The Volturi?” I repeated, shuddering.
“This is exactly the kind of thing they routinely wipe out — immortals who threaten to expose us. They just cleaned up a mess like this a few years ago in Atlanta, and it hadn’t gotten nearly this bad. They will intervene soon, very soon, unless we can find some way to calm the situation. I’d really rather they didn’t come to Seattle just now. As long as they’re this close . . . they might decide to check on you.”
I shuddered again. “What can we do?”
“We need to know more before we can decide that. Perhaps if we can talk to these young ones, explain the rules, it can be resolved peacefully.” He frowned, like he didn’t think the chances of that were good. “We’ll wait until Alice has an idea of what’s going on. . . . We don’t want to step in until it’s absolutely necessary. After all, it’s not our responsibility. But it’s good we have Jasper,” he added, almost to himself. “If we are dealing with newborns, he’ll be helpful.”
“Jasper? Why?”
Edward smiled darkly. “Jasper is sort of an expert on young vampires.”
“What do you mean, an expert?”
“You’ll have to ask him — the story is involved.”
“What a mess,” I mumbled.
“It does feel that way, doesn’t it? Like it’s coming at us from all sides these days.” He sighed. “Do you ever think that your life might be easier if you weren’t in love with me?”
“Maybe. It wouldn’t be much of a life, though.”
“For me,” he amended quietly. “And now, I suppose,” he continued with a wry smile, “you have something you want to ask me?”
I stared at him blankly. “I do?”
“Or maybe not.” He grinned. “I was rather under the impression that you’d promised to ask my permission to go to some kind of werewolf soirée tonight.”
“Eavesdropping again?”
He grinned. “Just a bit, at the very end.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to ask you anyway. I figured you had enough to stress about.”
He put his hand under my chin, and held my face so that he could read my eyes. “Would you like to go?”
“It’s no big thing. Don’t worry about it.”
“You don’t have to ask my permission, Bella. I’m not your father — thank heaven for that. Perhaps you should ask Charlie, though.”
“But you know Charlie will say yes.”
“I do have a bit more insight into his probable answer than most people would, it’s true.”
I just stared at him, trying to understand what he wanted, and trying to put out of my mind the yearning I felt to go to La Push so that I wouldn’t be swayed by my own wishes. It was stupid to want to go hang out with a bunch of big idiot wolf-boys right now when there was so much that was frightening and unexplained going on. Of course, that was exactly why I wanted to go. I wanted to escape the death threats, for just a few hours . . . to be the less-mature, more-reckless Bella who could laugh it off with Jacob, if only briefly. But that didn’t matter.
“Bella,” Edward said. “I told you that I was going to be reasonable and trust your judgment. I meant that. If you trust the werewolves, then I’m not going to worry about them.”
“Wow,” I said, as I had last night.
“And Jacob’s right — about one thing, anyway — a pack of werewolves ought to be enough to protect even you for one evening.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Only . . .”
I braced myself.
“I hope you won’t mind taking a few precautions? Allowing me to drive you to the boundary line, for one. And then taking a cell phone, so that I’ll know when to pick you up?”
“That sounds . . . very reasonable.”
“Excellent.”
He smiled at me, and I could see no trace of apprehension in his jewel-like eyes.
To no one’s surprise, Charlie had no problem at all with me going to La Push for a bonfire. Jacob crowed with undisguised exultation when I called to give him the news, and he seemed eager enough to embrace Edward’s safety measures. He promised to meet us at the line between territories at six.
I had decided, after a short internal debate, that I would not sell my motorcycle. I would take it back to La Push where it belonged and, when I no longer needed it anymore . . . well, then, I would insist that Jacob profit from his work somehow. He could sell it or give it to a friend. It didn’t matter to me.
Tonight seemed like a good opportunity to return the bike to Jacob’s garage. As gloomy as I was feeling about things lately, every day seemed like a possible last chance. I didn’t have time to procrastinate any task, no matter how minor.
Edward only nodded when I explained what I wanted, but I thought I saw a flicker of consternation in his eyes, and I knew he was no happier about the idea of me on a motorcycle than Charlie was.
I followed him back to his house, to the garage where I’d left the bike. It wasn’t until I pulled the truck in and got out that I realized the consternation might not be entirely about my safety this time.
Next to my little antique motorcycle, overshadowing it, was another vehicle. To call this other vehicle a motorcycle hardly seemed fair, since it didn’t seem to belong to the same family as my suddenly shabby-looking bike.
It was big and sleek and silver and — even totally motionless — it looked fast.
“What is that?”
“Nothing,” Edward murmured.
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
Edward’s expression was casual; he seemed determined to blow it off. “Well, I didn’t know if you were going to forgive your friend, or he you, and I wondered if you would still want to ride your bike anyway. It sounded like it was something that you enjoyed. I thought I could go with you, if you wished.” He shrugged.
I stared at the beautiful machine. Beside it, my bike looked like a broken tricycle. I felt a sudden wave of sadness when I realized that this was not a bad analogy for the way I probably looked next to Edward.
“I wouldn’t be able to keep up with you,” I whispered.
Edward put his hand under my chin and pulled my face around so that he could see it straight on. With one finger, he tried to push the corner of my mouth up.
“I’d keep pace with you, Bella.”
“That wouldn’t be much fun for you.”
“Of course it would, if we were together.”
I bit my lip and imagined it for a moment. “Edward, if you thought I was going too fast or losing control of the bike or something, what would you do?”
He hesitated, obviously trying to find the right answer. I knew the truth: he’d find some way to save me before I crashed.
Then he smiled. It looked effortless, except for the tiny defensive tightening of his eyes.
“This is something you do with Jacob. I see that now.”
“It’s just that, well, I don’t slow him down so much, you know. I could try, I guess. . . .”
I eyed the silver motorcycle doubtfully.
“Don’t worry about it,” Edward said, and then he laughed lightly. “I saw Jasper admiring it. Perhaps it’s time he discovered a new way to travel. After all, Alice has her Porsche now.”
“Edward, I —”
He interrupted me with a quick kiss. “I said not to worry. But would you do something for me?”
“Whatever you need,” I promised quickly.
He dropped my face and leaned over the far side of the big motorcycle, retrieving something he had stashed there.
He came back with one object that was black and shapeless, and another that was red and easily identifiable.
“Please?” he asked, flashing the crooked smile that always destroyed my resistance.
I took the red helmet, weighing it in my hands. “I’ll look stupid.”
“No, you’ll look smart. Smart enough not to get yourself hurt.” He threw the black thing, whatever it was, over his arm and then took my face in his hands. “There are things between my hands right now that I can’t live without. You could take care of them.”
“Okay, fine. What’s that other thing?” I asked suspiciously.
He laughed and shook out some kind of padded jacket. “It’s a riding jacket. I hear road rash is quite uncomfortable, not that I would know myself.”
He held it out for me. With a deep sigh, I flipped my hair back and stuffed the helmet on my head. Then I shoved my arms through the sleeves of the jacket. He zipped me in, a smile playing around the corners of his lips, and took a step back.
I felt bulky.
“Be honest, how hideous do I look?”
He took another step back and pursed his lips.
“That bad, huh?” I muttered.
“No, no, Bella. Actually . . .” he seemed to be struggling for the right word. “You look . . . sexy.”
I laughed out loud. “Right.”
“Very sexy, really.”
“You are just saying that so that I’ll wear it,” I said. “But that’s okay. You’re right, it’s smarter.”
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest. “You’re silly. I suppose that’s part of your charm. Though, I’ll admit it, this helmet does have its drawbacks.”
And then he pulled the helmet off so that he could kiss me.
As Edward drove me toward La Push a little while later, I realized that this unprecedented situation felt oddly familiar. It took me a moment of thought to pinpoint the source of the déjà vu.
“You know what this reminds me of?” I asked. “It’s just like when I was a kid and Renée would pass me off to Charlie for the summer. I feel like a seven-year-old.”
Edward laughed.
I didn’t mention it out loud, but the biggest difference between the two circumstances was that Renée and Charlie had been on better terms.
About halfway to La Push, we rounded the corner and found Jacob leaning against the side of the red Volkswagen he’d built for himself out of scraps. Jacob’s carefully neutral expression dissolved into a smile when I waved from the front seat.
Edward parked the Volvo thirty yards away.
“Call me whenever you’re ready to come home,” he said. “And I’ll be here.”
“I won’t be out late,” I promised.
Edward pulled the bike and my new gear out of the trunk of his car — I’d been quite impressed that it had all fit. But it wasn’t so hard to manage when you were strong enough to juggle full-sized vans, let alone small motorcycles.
Jacob watched, making no move to approach, his smile gone and his dark eyes indecipherable.
I tucked the helmet under my arm and threw the jacket across the seat.
“Do you have it all?” Edward asked.
“No problem,” I assured him.
He sighed and leaned toward me. I turned my face up for a goodbye peck, but Edward took me by surprise, fastening his arms tightly around me and kissing me with as much enthusiasm as he had in the garage — before long, I was gasping for air.
Edward laughed quietly at something, and then let me go.
“Goodbye,” he said. “I really do like the jacket.”
As I turned away from him, I thought I saw a flash of something in his eyes that I wasn’t supposed to see. I couldn’t tell for sure what it was exactly. Worry, maybe. For a second I thought it was panic. But I was probably just making something out of nothing, as usual.
I could feel his eyes on my back as I pushed my bike toward the invisible vampire-werewolf treaty line to meet Jacob.
“What’s all that?” Jacob called to me, his voice wary, scrutinizing the motorcycle with an enigmatic expression.
“I thought I should put this back where it belongs,” I told him.
He pondered that for one short second, and then his wide smile stretched across his face.
I knew the exact point that I was in werewolf territory because Jacob shoved away from his car and loped quickly over to me, closing the distance in three long strides. He took the bike from me, balanced it on the kickstand, and grabbed me up in another vice-tight hug.
I heard the Volvo’s engine growl, and I struggled to get free.
“Cut it out, Jake!” I gasped breathlessly.
He laughed and set me down. I turned to wave goodbye, but the silver car was already disappearing around the curve in the road.
“Nice,” I commented, allowing some acid to leak into my voice.
His eyes widened in false innocence. “What?”
“He’s being pretty dang pleasant about this; you don’t need to push your luck.”
He laughed again, louder than before — he found what I’d said very funny indeed. I tried to see the joke as he walked around the Rabbit to hold my door open for me.
“Bella,” he finally said — still chuckling — as he shut the door behind me, “you can’t push what you don’t have.”