probably should remember you."　　"No, I'm the youngest of the family — you would remember my older　　sisters."　　"Rachel and Rebecca," I suddenly recalled. Charlie and Billy had thrown　　us together a lot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. We　　were all too shy to make much progress as friends. Of course, I'd kicked　　up enough tantrums to end the fishing trips by the time I was eleven.　　"Are they here?" I examined the girls at the ocean's edge, wondering if I　　would recognize them now.　　"No." Jacob shook his head. "Rachel got a scholarship to Washington　　State, and Rebecca married a Samoan surfer — she lives in Hawaii now."　　"Married. Wow." I was stunned. The twins were only a little over a year　　older than I was.　　"So how do you like the truck?" he asked.　　"I love it. It runs great."　　"Yeah, but it's really slow," he laughed. "I was so relived when Charlie　　bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car when we　　had a perfectly good vehicle right there."　　"It's not that slow," I objected.　　"Have you tried to go over sixty?"　　"No," I admitted.　　"Good. Don't." He grinned.　　I couldn't help grinning back. "It does great in a collision," I offered　　in my truck's defense.　　"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," he agreed with　　another laugh.　　"So you build cars?" I asked, impressed.　　"When I have free time, and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I　　could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he　　added jokingly. He had a pleasant, husky voice.　　"Sorry," I laughed, "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes　　open for you." As if I knew what that was. He was very easy to talk with.　　He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at me appreciatively in a way I was　　learning to recognize. I wasn't the only one who noticed.　　"You know Bella, Jacob?" Lauren asked — in what I imagined was an　　insolent tone — from across the fire.　　"We've sort of known each other since I was born," he laughed, smiling at　　me again.　　"How nice." She didn't sound like she thought it was nice at all, and her　　pale, fishy eyes narrowed.　　"Bella," she called again, watching my face carefully, "I was just saying　　to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today.　　Didn't anyone think to invite them?" Her expression of concern was　　unconvincing.　　"You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family?" the tall, older boy asked before　　I could respond, much to Lauren's irritation. He was really closer to a　　man than a boy, and his voice was very deep.　　"Yes, do you know them?" she asked condescendingly, turning halfway　　toward him.　　"The Cullens don't come here," he said in a tone that closed the subject,　　ignoring her question.　　Tyler, trying to win back her attention, asked Lauren's opinion on a CD　　he held. She was distracted.　　I stared at the deep-voiced boy, taken aback, but he was looking away　　toward the dark forest behind us. He'd said that the Cullens didn't come　　here, but his tone had implied something more — that they weren't　　allowed; they were prohibited. His manner left a strange impression on　　me, and I tried to ignore it without success.　　Jacob interrupted my meditation. "So is Forks driving you insane yet?"　　"Oh, I'd say that's an understatement." I grimaced. He grinned　　understandingly.　　I was still turning over the brief comment on the Cullens, and I had a　　sudden inspiration. It was a stupid plan, but I didn't have any better　　ideas. I hoped that young Jacob was as yet inexperienced around girls, so　　that he wouldn't see through my sure-to-be-pitiful attempts at flirting.　　"Do you want to walk down the beach with me?" I asked, trying to imitate　　that way Edward had of looking up from underneath his eyelashes. It　　couldn't have nearly the same effect, I was sure, but Jacob jumped up　　willingly enough.　　As we walked north across the multihued stones toward the driftwood　　seawall, the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky, causing the sea　　to darken and the temperature to drop. I shoved my hands deep into the　　pockets of my jacket.　　"So you're, what, sixteen?" I asked, trying not to look like an idiot as　　I fluttered my eyelids the way I'd seen girls do on TV.　　"I just turned fifteen," he confessed, flattered.　　"Really?" My face was full of false surprise. "I would have thought you　　were older."　　"I'm tall for my age," he explained.　　"Do you come up to Forks much?" I asked archly, as if I was hoping for a　　yes. I sounded idiotic to myself. I was afraid he would turn on me with　　disgust and accuse me of my fraud, but he still seemed flattered.　　"Not too much," he admitted with a frown. "But when I get my car finished　　I can go up as much as I want — after I get my license," he amended.　　"Who was that other boy Lauren was talking to? He seemed a little old to　　be hanging out with us." I purposefully lumped myself in with the　　youngsters, trying to make it clear that I preferred Jacob.　　"That's Sam — he's nineteen," he informed me.　　"What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?" I asked　　innocently.　　"The Cullens? Oh, they're not supposed to come onto the reservation." He　　looked away, out toward James Island, as he confirmed what I'd thought　　I'd heard in Sam's voice.　　"Why not?"　　He glanced back at me, biting his lip. "Oops. I'm not supposed to say　　anything about that."　　"Oh, I won't tell anyone, I'm just curious." I tried to make my smile　　alluring, wondering if I was laying it on too thick.　　He smiled back, though, looking allured. Then he lifted one eyebrow and　　his voice was even huskier than before.　　"Do you like scary stories?" he asked ominously.　　"I love them," I enthused, making an effort to smolder at him.　　Jacob strolled to a nearby driftwood tree that had its roots sticking out　　like the attenuated legs of a huge, pale spider. He perched lightly on　　one of the twisted roots while I sat beneath him on the body of the tree.　　He stared down at the rocks, a smile hovering around the edges of his　　broad lips. I could see he was going to try to make this good. I focused　　on keeping the vital interest I felt out of my eyes.　　"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from — the　　Quileutes, I mean?" he began.　　"Not really," I admitted.　　"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to　　the Flood — supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the　　tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive like Noah and the　　ark." He smiled, to show me how little stock he put in the histories.　　"Another legend claims that we descended from wolves — and that the　　wolves are our brothers still. It's against tribal law to kill them.　　"Then there are the stories about the cold ones." His voice dropped a　　little lower.　　"The cold ones?" I asked, not faking my intrigue now.　　"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and　　some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew　　some of them. He was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our　　land." He rolled his eyes.　　"Your great-grandfather?" I encouraged.　　"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the　　natural enemies of the wolf—well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves　　that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."　　"Werewolves have enemies?"　　"Only one."　　I stared at him earnestly, hoping to disguise my impatience as admiration.　　"So you see," Jacob continued, "the cold ones are traditionally our　　enemies. But this pack that came to our territory during my　　great-grandfather's time was different. They didn't hunt the way others　　of their kind did — they weren't supposed to be dangerous to the tribe.　　So my great-grandfather made a truce with them. If they would promise to　　stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the pale-faces." He winked　　at me.　　"If they weren't dangerous, then why… ?" I tried to understand,　　struggling not to let him see how seriously I was considering his ghost　　story.　　"There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if　　they're civilized like this clan was. You never know when they might get　　too hungry to resist." He deliberately worked a thick edge of menace into　　his tone.　　"What do you mean, 'civilized'?"　　"They claimed that they didn't hunt humans. They supposedly were somehow　　able to prey on animals instead."　　I tried to keep my voice casual. "So how does it fit in with the Cullens?　　Are they like the cold ones your greatgrandfather met?"　　"No." He paused dramatically. "They are the same ones."　　He must have thought the expression on my face was fear inspired by his　　story. He smiled, pleased, and continued.　　"There are more of them now, a new female and a new male, but the rest　　are the same. In my great-grandfather's time they already knew of the　　leader, Carlisle. He'd been here and gone before your people had even　　arrived." He was fighting a smile.　　"And what are they?" I finally asked. "What are the cold ones?"　　He smiled darkly.　　"Blood drinkers," he replied in a chilling voice. "Your people call them　　vampires."　　I stared out at the rough surf after he answered, not sure what my face　　was exposing.　　"You have goose bumps," he laughed delightedly.　　"You're a good storyteller," I complimented him, still staring into the　　waves.　　"Pretty crazy stuff, though, isn't it? No wonder my dad doesn't want us　　to talk about it to anyone."　　I couldn't control my expression enough to look at him yet. "Don't worry,　　I won't give you away."　　"I guess I just violated the treaty," he laughed.　　"I'll take it to the grave," I promised, and then I shivered.　　"Seriously, though, don't say anything to Charlie. He was pretty mad at　　my dad when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since　　Dr. Cullen started working there."　　"I won't, of course not."　　"So do you think we're a bunch of superstitious natives or what?" he　　asked in a playful tone, but with a hint of worry. I still hadn't looked　　away from the ocean.　　I turned and smiled at him as normally as I could.　　"No. I think you're very good at telling scary stories, though. I still　　have goose bumps, see?" I held up my arm.　　"Cool." He smiled.　　And then the sound of the beach rocks clattering against each other　　warned us that someone was approaching. Our heads snapped up at the same　　time to see Mike and Jessica about fifty yards away, walking toward us.　　"There you are, Bella," Mike called in relief, waving his arm over his　　head.　　"Is that your boyfriend?" Jacob asked, alerted by the jealous edge in　　Mike's voice. I was surprised it was so obvious.　　"No, definitely not," I whispered. I was tremendously grateful to Jacob,　　and eager to make him as happy as possible. I winked at him, carefully　　turning away from Mike to do so. He smiled, elated by my inept flirting.　　"So when I get my license…" he began.　　"You should come see me in Forks. We could hang out sometime." I felt　　guilty as I said this, knowing that I'd used him. But I really did like　　Jacob. He was someone I could easily be friends with.　　Mike had reached us now, with Jessica still a few paces back. I could see　　his eyes appraising Jacob, and looking satisfied at his obvious youth.　　"Where have you been?" he asked, though the answer was right in front of　　him.　　"Jacob was just telling me some local stories," I volunteered. "It was　　really interesting."　　I smiled at Jacob warmly, and he grinned back.　　"Well," Mike paused, carefully reassessing the situation as he watched　　our camaraderie. "We're packing up — it looks like it's going to rain　　soon."　　We all looked up at the glowering sky. It certainly did look like rain.　　"Okay." I jumped up. "I'm coming."　　"It was nice to see you again," Jacob said, and I could tell he was　　taunting Mike just a bit.　　"It really was. Next time Charlie comes down to see Billy, I'll come,　　too," I promised.　　His grin stretched across his face. "That would be cool."　　"And thanks," I added earnestly.　　I pulled up my hood as we tramped across the rocks toward the parking　　lot. A few drops were beginning to fall, making black spots on the stones　　where they landed. When we got to the Suburban the others were already　　loading everything back in. I crawled into the backseat by Angela and　　Tyler, announcing that I'd already had my turn in the shotgun position.　　Angela just stared out the window at the escalating storm, and Lauren　　twisted around in the middle seat to occupy Tyler's attention, so I could　　simply lay my head back on the seat and close my eyes and try very hard　　not to think.　　===========================================================================　　7. NIGHTMARE　　I told Charlie I had a lot of homework to do, and that I didn't want　　anything to eat. There was a basketball game on that he was excited　　about, though of course I had no idea what was special about it, so he　　wasn't aware of anything unusual in my face or tone.　　Once in my room, I locked the door. I dug through my desk until I found　　my old headphones, and I plugged them into my little CD player. I picked　　up a CD that Phil had given to me for Christmas. It was one of his　　favorite bands, but they used a little too much bass and shrieking for my　　tastes. I popped it into place and lay down on my bed. I put on the　　headphones, hit Play, and turned up the volume until it hurt my ears. I　　closed my eyes, but the light still intruded, so I added a pillow over　　the top half of my face.　　I concentrated very carefully on the music, trying to understand the　　lyrics, to unravel the complicated drum patterns. By the third time I'd　　listened through the CD, I knew all the words to the choruses, at least.　　I was surprised to find that I really did like the band after all, once I　　got past the blaring noise. I'd have to thank Phil again.　　And it worked. The shattering beats made it impossible for me to think —　　which was the whole purpose of the exercise. I listened to the CD again　　and again, until I was singing along with all the songs, until, finally,　　I fell asleep.　　I opened my eyes to a familiar place. Aware in some corner of my　　consciousness that I was dreaming, I recognized the green light of the　　forest. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks somewhere　　nearby. And I knew that if I found the ocean, I'd be able to see the sun.　　I was trying to follow the sound, but then Jacob Black was there, tugging　　on my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest.　　"Jacob? What's wrong?" I asked. His face was frightened as he yanked with　　all his strength against my resistance; I didn't want to go into the dark.　　"Run, Bella, you have to run!" he whispered, terrified.　　"This way, Bella!" I recognized Mike's voice calling out of the gloomy　　heart of the trees, but I couldn't see him.　　"Why?" I asked, still pulling against Jacob's grasp, desperate now to　　find the sun.　　But Jacob let go of my hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the　　dim forest floor. He twitched on the ground as I watched in horror.　　"Jacob!" I screamed. But he was gone. In his place was a large red-brown　　wolf with black eyes. The wolf faced away from me, pointing toward the　　shore, the hair on the back of his shoulders bristling, low growls　　issuing from between his exposed fangs.　　"Bella, run!" Mike cried out again from behind me. But I didn't turn. I　　was watching a light coming toward me from the beach.　　And then Edward stepped out from the trees, his skin faintly glowing, his　　eyes black and dangerous. He held up one hand and beckoned me to come to　　him. The wolf growled at my feet.　　I took a step forward, toward Edward. He smiled then, and his teeth were　　sharp, pointed.　　"Trust me," he purred.　　I took another step.　　The wolf launched himself across the space between me and the vampire,　　fangs aiming for the jugular.　　"No!" I screamed, wrenching upright out of my bed.　　My sudden movement caused the headphones to pull the CD player off the　　bedside table, and it clattered to the wooden floor.　　My light was still on, and I was sitting fully dressed on the bed, with　　my shoes on. I glanced, disoriented, at the clock on my dresser. It was　　five-thirty in the morning.　　I groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto my face, kicking off my boots.　　I was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. I rolled back　　over and unbuttoned my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as I tried to　　stay horizontal. I could feel the braid in my hair, an uncomfortable　　ridge along the back of my skull. I turned onto my side and ripped the　　rubber band out, quickly combing through the plaits with my fingers. I　　pulled the pillow back over my eyes.　　It was all no use, of course. My subconscious had dredged up exactly the　　images I'd been trying so desperately to avoid. I was going to have to　　face them now.　　I sat up, and my head spun for a minute as the blood flowed downward.　　First things first, I thought to myself, happy to put it off as long as　　possible. I grabbed my bathroom bag.　　The shower didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would, though. Even　　taking the time to blow-dry my hair, I was soon out of things to do in　　the bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, I crossed back to my room. I couldn't　　tell if Charlie was still asleep, or if he had already left. I went to　　look out my window, and the cruiser was gone. Fishing again.　　I dressed slowly in my most comfy sweats and then made my bed — something　　I never did. I couldn't put it off any longer. I went to my desk and　　switched on my old computer.　　I hated using the Internet here. My modem was sadly outdated, my free　　service substandard; just dialing up took so long that I decided to go　　get myself a bowl of cereal while I waited.　　I ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. When I was done, I washed the　　bowl and spoon, dried them, and put them away. My feet dragged as I　　climbed the stairs. I went to my CD player first, picking it up off the　　floor and placing it precisely in the center of the table. I pulled out　　the headphones, and put them away in the desk drawer. Then I turned the　　same CD on, turning it down to the point where it was background noise.　　With another sigh, I turned to my computer. Naturally, the screen was　　covered in pop-up ads. I sat in my hard folding chair and began closing　　all the little windows. Eventually I made it to my favorite search　　engine. I shot down a few more pop-ups and then typed in one word.　　Vampire.　　It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up,　　there was a lot to sift through — everything from movies and TV shows to　　role-playing games, underground metal, and gothic cosmetic companies.　　Then I found a promising site — Vampires A—Z. I waited impatiently for it　　to load, quickly clicking closed each ad that flashed across the screen.　　Finally the screen was finished — simple white background with black　　text, academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the home page:　　Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is no figure　　so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with such　　fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghost nor　　demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious　　and terrible qualities of both. — Rev. Montague Summers　　If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the　　vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known　　people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is　　most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires?　　— Rousseau　　The rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different　　myths of vampires held throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the　　Danag, was a Filipino vampire supposedly responsible for planting taro on　　the islands long ago. The myth continued that the Danag worked with　　humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut　　her finger and a Danag sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that　　it drained her body completely of blood.　　I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that　　sounded familiar, let alone plausible. It seemed that most vampire myths　　centered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they　　also seemed like constructs created to explain away the high mortality　　rates for young children, and to give men an excuse for infidelity. Many　　of the stories involved bodiless spirits and warnings against improper　　burials. There wasn't much that sounded like the movies I'd seen, and　　only a very few, like the Hebrew Estrie and the Polish Upier, who were　　even preoccupied with drinking blood.　　Only three entries really caught my attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a　　powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned　　human, the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could　　massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one　　other, the Stregoni benefici.　　About this last there was only one brief sentence.　　Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of　　goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires.　　It was a relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds that　　claimed the existence of good vampires.　　Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Jacob's stories or　　my own observations. I'd made a little catalogue in my mind as I'd read　　and carefully compared it with each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale　　skin, eyes that shift color; and then Jacob's criteria: blood drinkers,　　enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, and immortal. There were very few　　myths that matched even one factor.　　And then another problem, one that I'd remembered from the small number　　of scary movies that I'd seen and was backed up by today's reading —　　vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a　　cinder. They slept in coffins all day and came out only at night.　　Aggravated, I snapped off the computer's main power switch, not waiting　　to shut things down properly. Through my irritation, I felt overwhelming　　embarrassment. It was all so stupid. I was sitting in my room,　　researching vampires. What was wrong with me? I decided that most of the　　blame belonged on the doorstep of the town of Forks — and the entire　　sodden Olympic Peninsula, for that matter.　　I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that　　didn't involve a three-day drive. I pulled on my boots anyway, unclear　　where I was headed, and went downstairs. I shrugged into my raincoat　　without checking the weather and stomped out the door.　　It was overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck and started east　　on foot, angling across Charlie's yard toward the ever-encroaching　　forest. It didn't take long till I was deep enough for the house and the　　road to be invisible, for the only sound to be the squish of the damp　　earth under my feet and the sudden cries of the jays.　　There was a thin ribbon of a trail that led through the forest here, or I　　wouldn't risk wandering on my own like this. My sense of direction was　　hopeless; I could get lost in much less helpful surroundings. The trail　　wound deeper and deeper into the forest, mostly east as far as I could　　tell. It snaked around the Sitka spruces and the hemlocks, the yews and　　the maples. I only vaguely knew the names of the trees around me, and all　　I knew was due to Charlie pointing them out to me from the cruiser window　　in earlier days. There were many I didn't know, and others I couldn't be　　sure about because they were so covered in green parasites.　　I followed the trail as long as my anger at myself pushed me forward. As　　that started to ebb, I slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down from　　the canopy above me, but I couldn't be certain if it was beginning to　　rain or if it was simply pools left over from yesterday, held high in the　　leaves above me, slowly dripping their way back to the earth. A recently