The Twilight Saga Collection part 1(317)
Even with Alice keeping watch — Edward was relying on her uncannily accurate visions of the future to give us advance warning — it was insane to take chances.
Besides, I’d already won this argument. The date for my transformation was tentatively set for shortly after my graduation from high school, only a handful of weeks away.
A sharp jolt of unease pierced my stomach as I realized how short the time really was. Of course this change was necessary — and the key to what I wanted more than everything else in the world put together — but I was deeply conscious of Charlie sitting in the other room enjoying his game, just like every other night. And my mother, Renée, far away in sunny Florida, still pleading with me to spend the summer on the beach with her and her new husband. And Jacob, who, unlike my parents, would know exactly what was going on when I disappeared to some distant school. Even if my parents didn’t grow suspicious for a long time, even if I could put off visits with excuses about travel expenses or study loads or illnesses, Jacob would know the truth.
For a moment, the idea of Jacob’s certain revulsion overshadowed every other pain.
“Bella,” Edward murmured, his face twisting when he read the distress in mine. “There’s no hurry. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You can take all the time you need.”
“I want to hurry,” I whispered, smiling weakly, trying to make a joke of it. “I want to be a monster, too.”
His teeth clenched; he spoke through them. “You have no idea what you’re saying.” Abruptly, he flung the damp newspaper onto the table in between us. His finger stabbed the headline on the front page:
DEATH TOLL ON THE RISE, POLICE FEAR GANG ACTIVITY
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Monsters are not a joke, Bella.”
I stared at the headline again, and then up to his hard expression. “A . . . a vampire is doing this?” I whispered.
He smiled without humor. His voice was low and cold. “You’d be surprised, Bella, at how often my kind are the source behind the horrors in your human news. It’s easy to recognize, when you know what to look for. The information here indicates a newborn vampire is loose in Seattle. Bloodthirsty, wild, out of control. The way we all were.”
I let my gaze drop to the paper again, avoiding his eyes.
“We’ve been monitoring the situation for a few weeks. All the signs are there — the unlikely disappearances, always in the night, the poorly disposed-of corpses, the lack of other evidence. . . . Yes, someone brand-new. And no one seems to be taking responsibility for the neophyte. . . .” He took a deep breath. “Well, it’s not our problem. We wouldn’t even pay attention to the situation if wasn’t going on so close to home. Like I said, this happens all the time. The existence of monsters results in monstrous consequences.”
I tried not to see the names on the page, but they jumped out from the rest of the print like they were in bold. The five people whose lives were over, whose families were mourning now. It was different from considering murder in the abstract, reading those names. Maureen Gardiner, Geoffrey Campbell, Grace Razi, Michelle O’Connell, Ronald Albrook. People who’d had parents and children and friends and pets and jobs and hopes and plans and memories and futures. . . .
“It won’t be the same for me,” I whispered, half to myself. “You won’t let me be like that. We’ll live in Antarctica.”
Edward snorted, breaking the tension. “Penguins. Lovely.”
I laughed a shaky laugh and knocked the paper off the table so I wouldn’t have to see those names; it hit the linoleum with a thud. Of course Edward would consider the hunting possibilities. He and his “vegetarian” family — all committed to protecting human life — preferred the flavor of large predators for satisfying their dietary needs. “Alaska, then, as planned. Only somewhere much more remote than Juneau — somewhere with grizzlies galore.”
“Better,” he allowed. “There are polar bears, too. Very fierce. And the wolves get quite large.”
My mouth fell open and my breath blew out in a sharp gust.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. Before I could recover, the confusion vanished and his whole body seemed to harden. “Oh. Never mind the wolves, then, if the idea is offensive to you.” His voice was stiff, formal, his shoulders rigid.
“He was my best friend, Edward,” I muttered. It stung to use the past tense. “Of course the idea offends me.”
“Please forgive my thoughtlessness,” he said, still very formal. “I shouldn’t have suggested that.”