“Don’t watch,” Edward whispered in my ear.
I was only too eager to follow his instruction. I’d seen more than enough for one day — more than enough for one lifetime. I squeezed my eyes tightly together and turned my face into Edward’s chest.
But I could still hear.
There was a deep, rumbling growl, and then a high-pitched keen that was horribly familiar. That sound cut off quickly, and then the only sound was a sickening crunching and snapping.
Edward’s hand rubbed anxiously against my shoulders.
“Come,” Jane said, and I looked up in time to see the backs of the tall gray cloaks drifting away toward the curling smoke. The incense smell was strong again — fresh.
The gray cloaks disappeared into the thick mist.
26. ETHICS
THE COUNTER IN ALICE’S BATHROOM WAS COVERED WITH a thousand different products, all claiming to beautify a person’s surface. Since everyone in this house was both perfect and impermeable, I could only assume that she’d bought most of these things with me in mind. I read the labels numbly, struck by the waste.
I was careful never to look in the long mirror.
Alice combed through my hair with a slow, rhythmic motion.
“That’s enough, Alice,” I said tonelessly. “I want to go back to La Push.”
How many hours had I waited for Charlie to finally leave Billy’s house so that I could see Jacob? Each minute, not knowing if Jacob was still breathing or not, had seemed like ten lifetimes. And then, when at last I’d been allowed to go, to see for myself that Jacob was alive, the time had gone so quickly. I felt like I’d barely caught my breath before Alice was calling Edward, insisting that I keep up this ridiculous sleepover façade. It seemed so insignificant. . . .
“Jacob’s still unconscious,” Alice answered. “Carlisle or Edward will call when he’s awake. Anyway, you need to go see Charlie. He was there at Billy’s house, he saw that Carlisle and Edward are back in from their trip, and he’s bound to be suspicious when you get home.”
I already had my story memorized and corroborated. “I don’t care. I want to be there when Jacob wakes up.”
“You need to think of Charlie now. You’ve had a long day — sorry, I know that doesn’t begin to cover it — but that doesn’t mean that you can shirk your responsibilities.” Her voice was serious, almost chiding. “It’s more important now than ever that Charlie stays safely in the dark. Play your role first, Bella, and then you can do what you want second. Part of being a Cullen is being meticulously responsible.”
Of course she was right. And if not for this same reason — a reason that was more powerful than all my fear and pain and guilt — Carlisle would never have been able to talk me into leaving Jacob’s side, unconscious or not.
“Go home,” Alice ordered. “Talk to Charlie. Flesh out your alibi. Keep him safe.”
I stood, and the blood flowed down to my feet, stinging like the pricks of a thousand needles. I’d been sitting still for a long time.
“That dress is adorable on you,” Alice cooed.
“Huh? Oh. Er — thanks again for the clothes,” I mumbled out of courtesy rather than real gratitude.
“You need the evidence,” Alice said, her eyes innocent and wide. “What’s a shopping trip without a new outfit? It’s very flattering, if I do say so myself.”
I blinked, unable to remember what she’d dressed me in. I couldn’t keep my thoughts from skittering away every few seconds, insects running from the light. . . .
“Jacob is fine, Bella,” Alice said, easily interpreting my preoccupation. “There’s no hurry. If you realized how much extra morphine Carlisle had to give him — what with his temperature burning it off so quickly — you would know that he’s going to be out for a while.”
At least he wasn’t in any pain. Not yet.
“Is there anything you want to talk about before you leave?” Alice asked sympathetically. “You must be more than a little traumatized.”
I knew what she was curious about. But I had other questions.
“Will I be like that?” I asked her, my voice subdued. “Like that girl Bree in the meadow?”
There were many things I needed to think of, but I couldn’t seem to get her out of my head, the newborn whose other life was now — abruptly — over. Her face, twisted with desire for my blood, lingered behind my eyelids.
Alice stroked my arm. “Everyone is different. But something like that, yes.”
I was very still, trying to imagine.
“It passes,” she promised.
“How soon?”