Eclipse (Twilight Saga #3)(42)

"What kind of a slumber party would that be?" Alice shook her head in exasperation. "You're sleeping in Edward's room."

I sighed. His black leather sofa was longer than this one. Actually, the gold carpet in his room was probably thick enough that the floor wouldn't be half bad either.

"Can I go back to my place to get my things, at least?"

She grinned. "Already taken care of."

"Am I allowed to use your phone?"

"Charlie knows where you are."

"I wasn't going to call Charlie." I frowned. "Apparently, I have some plans to cancel."

"Oh." She deliberated. "I'm not sure about that."

"Alice!" I whined loudly. "C'mon!"

"Okay, okay," she said, flitting from the room. She was back in half a second, cell phone in hand. "He didn't specifically prohibit this . . .," she murmured to herself as she handed it to me.

I dialed Jacob's number, hoping he wasn't out running with his friends tonight. Luck was with me-Jacob was the one to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Jake, it's me." Alice watched me with expressionless eyes for a second, before she turned and went to sit between Rosalie and Esme on the sofa.




 

 

"Hi, Bella," Jacob said, suddenly cautious. "What's up?"

"Nothing good. I can't come over Saturday after all."

It was silent for a minute. "Stupid bloodsucker," he finally muttered. "I thought he was leaving. Can't you have a life when he's gone? Or does he lock you in a coffin?"

I laughed.

"I don't think that's funny."

"I'm only laughing because you're close," I told him. "But he's going to be here Saturday, so it doesn't matter."

"Will he be feeding there in Forks, then?" Jacob asked cuttingly.

"No." I didn't let myself get irritated with him. I wasn't that far from being as angry as he was. "He left early."

"Oh. Well, hey, come over now, then," he said with sudden enthusiasm. "It's not that late. Or I'll come up to Charlie's."

"I wish. I'm not at Charlie's," I said sourly. "I'm kind of being held prisoner."

He was silent as that sunk in, and then he growled. "We'll come and get you," he promised in a flat voice, slipping automatically into a plural.

A chill slid down my spine, but I answered in a light and teasing voice. "Tempting. I have been tortured-Alice painted my toenails."

"I'm serious."

"Don't be. They're just trying to keep me safe."

He growled again.

"I know it's silly, but their hearts are in the right place."

"Their hearts!" he scoffed.

"Sorry about Saturday," I apologized. "I've got to hit the sack"-the couch, I corrected mentally-"but I'll call you again soon."

"Are you sure they'll let you?" he asked in a scathing tone.

"Not completely." I sighed. "'Night, Jake."

"See you around."

Alice was abruptly at my side, her hand held out for the phone, but I was already dialing. She saw the number.

"I don't think he'll have his phone on him," she said.

"I'll leave a message."

The phone rang four times, followed by a beep. There was no greeting.

"You are in trouble," I said slowly, emphasizing each word. "Enormous trouble. Angry grizzly bears are going to look tame next to what is waiting for you at home."

I snapped the phone shut and placed it in her waiting hand. "I'm done."

She grinned. "This hostage stuff is fun."

"I'm going to sleep now," I announced, heading for the stairs. Alice tagged along. 

"Alice," I sighed. "I'm not going to sneak out. You would know if I was planning to, and you'd catch me if I tried."

"I'm just going to show you where your things are," she said innocently.

Edward's room was at the farthest end of the third floor hallway, hard to mistake even when the huge house had been less familiar. But when I switched the light on, I paused in confusion. Had I picked the wrong door?

Alice giggled.

It was the same room, I realized quickly; the furniture had just been rearranged. The couch was pushed to the north wall and the stereo shoved up against the vast shelves of CDs-to make room for the colossal bed that now dominated the central space.

The southern wall of glass reflected the scene back like a mirror, making it look twice as bad.

It matched. The coverlet was a dull gold, just lighter than the walls; the frame was black, made of intricately patterned wrought iron. Sculpted metal roses wound in vines up the tall posts and formed a bowery lattice overhead. My pajamas were folded neatly on the foot of the bed, my bag of toiletries to one side.