Jacob and Bella Story

Chapter Twelve

Bella's P.O.V.

As I surrendered to slumber in my bed, I drifted into a dream again. This dream was no serene, dreamless rest; it was my familiar forest. Once again, I wandered through its enchanting embrace.

In a flash, I recognized this dream's familiar face. No urge drove me to roam; I was strolling out of routine, a creature of habit. Yet this wasn't the usual forest. The air was crisp and vibrant. Instead of damp earth, it whiffed of ocean brine—salty and inviting. I couldn't glimpse the sky, but the sun surely beamed down. Above, the leaves glistened in shades of bright jade green.

It was the forest around La Push, a whisper from the beach. I felt certain. Determined, I quickened my pace, following the waves' distant call. Reaching the beach promised me a taste of the sun's sweet light.

And then Jacob was there. He seized my hand, dragging me toward the darkest area of the woods.

"Jacob, what's wrong?" I asked. His face was boyishly frightened, his hair beautifully swept back into a ponytail. Despite his powerful pull, I held firm.

"Run, Bella, run!" Jacob whispered, terrified.

The abrupt wave of déjà vu was so strong it nearly woke me up.

I knew why I recognized this place now. It was because I'd been here before, in another dream. A million years ago, it was part of an entirely different life. It was the dream I'd had the night after I'd walked with Jacob on the beach, the first night I knew Edward was a vampire. Reliving that day with Jacob must have dredged this dream from my memories.

Detached from the dream now, I waited for it to play out. A light was coming toward me from the beach. Edward would walk through the trees in just a moment, his skin faintly glowing and his eyes black and dangerous. He would beckon to me and smile. He would be as beautiful as an angel, and his teeth would be pointed...

But I was getting ahead of myself. Something else had to happen first.

Jacob dropped my hand and yelped. Shaking and twitching, he fell to the ground at my feet.

"Jacob!" I screamed, but he was gone.

In his place was an enormous, red-brown wolf with dark, intelligent eyes.

The dream derailed like a train leaving the rails. This wolf differed from the one I'd envisioned in a past life and is the impressive russet wolf I encountered a week ago, only half a foot away in the meadow. This wolf was enormous, surpassing the size of a bear.

The wolf stared at me, trying to say something significant with his intelligent eyes—Jacob Black's black-brown eyes.

I woke up screaming at the top of my lungs.

I nearly expected a visit from Charlie this time. My screaming wasn't typical. Burying my face in my pillow, I tried to stifle the screams threatening to erupt. Holding the cotton to my face, I considered whether I could also suffocate the bond I had formed.

But Charlie didn't come in, and eventually, I could strangle the strange screeching from my throat.

What sort of place was it? Could a world exist where ancient legends roam the outskirts of small towns, battling mythical beasts? Does this imply that every impossible fairy tale has some basis in reality? Was it all madness and spooky stories, or was there any sense to it?

I clutched my head in my hands, trying to keep it from exploding.

A tiny, dry voice inquired about the fuss. Didn't I already accept the existence of vampires calmly a long time ago?

But Jacob? Jacob, who was Jacob, and nothing more than that? Jacob, my friend? Jacob is the only human I've ever been able to relate to. But he wasn't even human.

I fought the urge to scream again.

What does this say about me?

For that one, I already knew the answer. It said that there was something deeply wrong with me. What other reason could there be for horror movie characters to be so prevalent in my life? What other reason could I possibly have for caring so deeply about them? Their mythical crossings would cause me immense pain.

My thoughts completely rearranged themselves, changing the meanings of things.

It wasn't a cult. No cult or gang had ever existed. The situation was far dire. It was a pack. A pack of five mind-glowingly gigantic, multi-hued werewolves stalked past me in the meadow.

I took a quick look at the clock. It was far too early, but I didn't mind. I needed to visit Jacob in La Push. Even if he turns into a giant dog, I still want to see him and tell him that.

I grabbed the first clean clothes I found, ignoring whether they matched, and ran up the stairs. I nearly collided with Charlie as I slid into the hallway, rushing toward the exit.

"Where are you off to?" Charlie inquired, his surprise matching my own. "Do you realize what time it is?"

"Yeah. I have to go see Jacob," I responded.

"This early?"

"Yep."

Charlie knitted his brows. "Don't you crave some breakfast?" he asked.

"Not hungry," I said.

Charlie was preventing me from leaving. I contemplated sneaking past him but realized I would owe him an explanation.

"I'll be back soon, okay?" I asked.

Charlie frowned, his expression tight. "You're going straight to Jacob's house, yeah? No stops, right?" he pressed.

"Yep. Where would I stop?" I said.

"I can't say for certain," he confessed, running a hand through his hair. "But it's yet another wolf ambush. This time, it struck near the resort by the hot springs. A witness reported seeing something unusual. The victim vanished a dozen yards from the road. Desperate in her search, his wife spotted a massive gray wolf moments later and raced for help."

My stomach plummeted like a corkscrew spin on a wild roller coaster. "A wolf attacked him?" I gasped in disbelief, eyes wide with shock.

"He's still missing—a trace of blood," Charlie murmured, worry etched on his face. "The rangers are mobilizing, armed and ready, along with eager volunteers. With a reward for wolf carcasses dangling like bait, hunters are lining up. That spells serious firepower lurking in the woods, and it unnerves me." He shook his head gravely. "When ambition overshadows caution, accidents have a way of creeping in..."

"They're going to shoot the wolves," I said, as my voice shot through three octaves.

"What else can we do? What's wrong?" Charlie asked, his tense eyes studying my face.

I felt faint; I must be whiter than usual.

"You aren't turning into a tree-hugger on me, are you?" Charlie asked.

I couldn't answer. I was close to fainting; only Charlie's presence stopped me. The missing hikers and their bloody paw prints had slipped my mind. The connection between those facts and my first understanding hadn't occurred.

"Look, honey, don't let this scare you. Stay in town or on the highway—no stops—okay," Charlie said.

"Okay," I repeated in a weak voice.

"I've got to go," Charlie said.

Upon closer inspection of Charlie, I noticed his gun and hiking boots.

"You aren't going out after the wolves, are you, dad?" I asked.

"I've got to help, Bells. People are disappearing," Charlie responded.

My voice shot up again, almost hysterical now. "No! No, don't go. It's too dangerous," I said.

"I've got to do my job, kid. Don't be such a pessimist. I'll be fine," Charlie said as he turned for the door, held it open, and looked at me. "Are you leaving?"

I hesitated; my stomach was still spinning in uncomfortable loops. How can I get Jacob and the pack to stop? My dizziness prevented me from finding a solution.

"Bells?" Charlie asked.

"Maybe it's too early to go to La Push," I whispered.

"I agree," Charlie said.

Charlie stepped out into the rain, shutting the door behind him.

When Charlie was out of sight, I leaned against the door, thinking.

Should I go after Charlie? What would I say?

And what about Jacob? Jacob was my best friend... I needed to warn him. If he were a werewolf, I cringed and forced myself to think the word---werewolf, then people would shoot at him! I needed to tell him and his friends that people would try to kill them if they went running around like gigantic wolves. I needed to ask him to stop.

They had to stop! Charlie was out there in the woods. Would they care about that? I wondered. Until now, only strangers had disappeared. Did that mean anything, or was it a coincidence?

I needed to believe that Jacob, at least, would care about that. Either way, I had to warn him.

Jacob was again my best friend, but was he a monster, too? A real one? A bad one? Should I warn him if he and his friends were... were murderers? If they were out slaughtering innocent hikers in cold blood? If they were indeed creatures from a horror movie in every sense, would it be wrong to protect them?

I was utterly unfamiliar with werewolves. I expected something like the movies—large, hairy, half-man creatures. I was unsure what motivated their desire to kill, and without that knowledge, judgment was complex.

But it couldn't be worse than what the Cullens had endured in their quest for good. Esme came to mind. Remembering her kind face brought tears to my eyes. Her loving, motherly demeanor couldn't mask her shame and flight at the sight of my blood. That was the hardest thing. Carlisle came to mind, and for the countless centuries, he'd spent learning to ignore blood for the sake of his patients. Nothing could be more complicated than that.

The werewolves had chosen a different path.

Now, what should I choose?

I thought if it were anyone but Jacob, I would shake my head as I drove down the forest-lined highway to La Push.

I still wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing, but I had compromised with myself.

I disapproved of Jacob and his friend's actions. I now comprehended his meaning from last night—if I didn't want to see him again, I could have called, as he'd suggested, but that felt cowardly. I should talk to him in person, at least. I'd confront him directly about the unacceptable situation. I'm incapable of befriending a killer and keeping quiet about it. Let the killing continue. That would make me a monster, too.

But I couldn't warn him either. I had to do what I could to protect him.

I pulled up to the Blacks' house with my lips pressed together into a hard line. It was bad enough that my best friend was a werewolf. Did he have to be a monster, too?

Though dark and unlit, I wasn't concerned about waking him. I angrily banged my fist against the front door, the sound echoing through the house.

"Come in," I heard Billy call after a minute, and the light flicked on.

I turned the knob. In a bathrobe, Billy was leaning in the open doorway to the small kitchen, not yet seated. Upon seeing who it was, his eyes widened briefly; then his face became impassive.

"Well, good morning, Bella. What are you doing up so early?" Billy asked.

"Hey, Billy. I need to talk to Jake—where is he?" I asked.

"Um... I don't know," he lied, straight-faced.

"Do you know what Charlie is doing this morning?" I demanded, sick of the stalling.

"Should I?"

"He and half the other men in town are all out in the woods with guns, hunting giant wolves."

Billy's expression flickered and then went blank, knowing I knew now.

"So I'd like to talk to Jake about that, if you don't mind," I continued.

Billy pursed his thick lips for a long moment. "I'd bet he's still asleep," he finally said, nodding toward the tiny hallway of the front room. "He's out late a lot these days. The kid needs rest; it would be best not to wake him."

"I'm sorry. I need to see him," I muttered as I stalked down the hallway.

Billy sighed.

Jacob's room, a small closet, was the only door along the long hallway. I entered without knocking. I opened the door forcefully.

Jacob was still in the same black cut-off sweats he'd worn the night before. Taking up nearly the entire bed, he lay diagonally across it, with only inches to spare at the sides. Even on a slant, there wasn't enough room; his feet hung off one end and his head off the other. He was fast asleep, snoring lightly with his mouth hanging open. The sound of the door hadn't even made him twitch.

Jacob's face was peaceful, smoothed by deep sleep; the angry lines were gone. I noticed circles under his eyes that I hadn't seen before. Though enormously large, he appeared youthful yet fatigued. Pity shook me. He looked tired and needed to sleep.

I stepped back out and shut the door quietly behind me.

Billy stared with curious, guarded eyes as I strolled back into the front room.

"I think I'll let him get some rest," I said.

Billy nodded, and a moment of mutual gazing followed. I was extremely curious about his role in this. How did he feel about his son's transformation? Knowing his initial support of Sam, I assumed the murders wouldn't faze him. I can't fathom how he rationalized that to himself.

I could see many questions in his dark eyes, but he didn't voice them either.

"Look," I said, breaking the silence. "I'll be down at the beach for a while. Tell him I'm waiting for him when he wakes up, okay?"

"Sure, sure," Billy responded.

I wondered if he would. Well, if he didn't, I'd try.

I headed out to my truck and headed to First Beach.