cult

Each time I woke up and discovered I was still alive was a shock. Still, I couldn't completely calm down until I dashed around to the next hall over, and made sure Charlie had made it through the night, too.

Charlie knew I was acting strange. I was constantly tense, on edge, jumping at the slightest noises and suddenly going deathly pale for seemingly no apparent reason. However, there was an upside to my perpetual state of terror—it distracted me from the fact that another week had gone by, and Jules still had not called.

However, it was inevitable that eventually the pressing, overriding fear that I could die any minute would die down a little, settling into a constant, dull buzz at the back of my mind. At that point, the desperation to see her intensified. I knew if she was only around, the sound of her laugh would make it all bearable, at least for a while.

I hoped she would call Monday. If she had made some progress with Em, I felt sure she would want to tell me. But Monday came and went, and still no phone call.

I called the Black house Tuesday afternoon, but again no one answered. Either the phone lines were down again, or possibly Bonnie had decided to invest in caller I.D.

By Wednesday I was getting desperate again, and I called the house every half an hour from the time I got home from school until after eleven. Someone could call me a stalker, I didn't care.

Thursday I got into my truck and sat there with the keys in the ignition, trying to convince myself it wouldn't hurt anything to take a quick trip down to La Push. But that was a lie, and I knew it. By now, Lauren would have gone back to Victor. He could be here any day, and from that standpoint, it was safer for Jules if she kept away from me as she was doing.

I knew there was no running away from my inevitable fate—there was nowhere to run to. Anyone I might have gone to for refuge, I would be putting them in danger, too. Besides, Victor would certainly come to my house before he went anywhere else, and I shuddered to think what would happen if he ran into Charlie here alone. If he found me straight away, maybe he would just take me and leave.

Seeing how anxious I was, and attributing it to Jules's continued absence, Charlie went ahead and called the Clearwaters again to find out if the Blacks were out of town. Saul said that he'd seen Bonnie at the last council meeting just Wednesday night, and she hadn't mentioned anything about leaving. When Charlie hung up the phone, he turned to me.

"Listen, Beau—you've just got to calm down and let Julie come around when she feels like it. Sometimes girls get a bit freaked out when you get a little...overenthusiastic. Just cool it for now, kid, and let her have some breathing room. She'll be back before long. She was sick a week, and now she's spending time with some other friends. You might want to think about doing that, too."

Sick a week. As I was driving around aimlessly after school the next day, trying my best not to dwell too much on Victor and the rest of it, for some reason those words came back to my mind. And another detail that Charlie had mentioned that I hadn't paid much attention to at the time, that Jules had cut her hair.

Something suddenly clicked into place. I slammed on the brakes, stopping dead in the middle of the road.

"Idiot," I hissed under my breath, clenching my hand into a fist, and tapping it against my forehead. "Freaking, dim-witted moron."

Jules had told me everything I needed to know already. She'd told me about the weirdness surrounding Samantha Uley, how some of the girls at her school had been sick for a week, then suddenly reappeared as Sam's loyal adjuncts.

Her words drifted back to me. Sam is looking at me like I'm next on her list—what if that happens to me too? What if I don't have a choice?

Of course, it all made sense now. Why she had been avoiding me, her desperation that last time I'd spoken to her on the phone. Sam had gotten to her, done the same thing to her as she'd done to Emma.

I drove my truck back to the house, and debated with myself what to do. Going to try to find Jules carried with it some risk—I might inadvertently lead Victor or Lauren right to her. But if I did nothing, then she would remain trapped under Samantha's control. There might still be a chance to save her, but if I did nothing, it might be too late.

I knew there was no choice. I could have no idea how long the vampires would take to come for me—it had already been a week, so maybe Victor had decided to take his time. After all, time was a lot different for a vampire than a human. The other danger, which I knew for a fact was happening right now, had to take precedence.

I ducked briefly inside the house to make a phone call. I didn't know exactly what was going on, but maybe it was something the police should be involved in. I would feel better going to La Push if at least one person had an idea where I was. After all, Jules had called Sam and her posse something akin to Amazon warriors, and I had a vague recollection of a documentary I'd seen once, and I thought I remembered stories about how any men they captured in their territory were scalped and had their eyes gouged out. If I disappeared and my body wasn't discovered right away, at least Charlie would know where to start investigating.

I heard the phone ring several times, and I was relieved when it was Charlie who answered.

"Chief Swan."

"Hey, Dad, it's me."

Charlie paused for a moment. Perhaps he noticed the odd note in my voice—a little higher than usual, cracking at the end—because he asked, "What's wrong?"

"I..." I took a second to gather my bearings, then started in without preamble. "Look, it's about Jules. I don't know, something that's been going on down at the reservation has me worried."

"What is it?" Charlie asked, and his tone was a little deeper than usual, speaking as Chief Swan rather than my dad.

I tried to mentally line up the necessary information. "I just remembered something Jules told me about before. She said something's been happening to a few other people down there, and she seemed pretty scared. She said some of her friends were gone from school for a while and then started avoiding her, and now I think she's been doing the same thing. I don't know if you remember Samantha Uley, but—the way Jules talked it sounded like she might be getting the girls down there involved in something kind of bad."

"Samantha Uley?" Charlie repeated, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, her," I answered.

Charlie's police voice was gone, and he sounded more relaxed. "I wouldn't worry about that, Beau. Samantha acts older than her age, she's very responsible. She sets a very good example for the other girls, you should hear Bonnie rave about her. She was also the one who helped you from—" Charlie broke off, as he realized he had almost entered the off-limits topic of that day in the woods.

I knew I had to explain it in a way that Charlie could understand. "I don't know, Dad," I tried again. "Jules seemed really scared of her. The way she talked about it, it's like some all-female gang, and they've been forcing people to join up."

"Did you try to talk to Bonnie?" I could tell Charlie wasn't inclined to think anything bad of Samantha, especially considering her part in rescuing me last fall.

I hesitated. "Bonnie didn't seem that worried."

"Well, there you are," he said, as though that settled the matter. "I'm sure Jules was just overreacting, Samantha is a head taller than just about anyone else, and she doesn't talk a whole lot. I'm sure she must seem intimidating to some of the younger girls. I'm glad Julie seems to be connecting with some friends down there, she can't be with you all the time, kiddo."

"Dad..." I grumbled, but I knew the cause was already lost.

"Listen, kiddo," Charlie said, with just a touch of sternness this time, "I've got a lot on my plate right now. Two tourists have gone missing off a trail outside crescent lake." He sounded just a little anxious as he added, "The wolf problem is getting out of hand."

This momentarily distracted me. I hadn't expected to ever hear about the wolves again, seeing as how I figured Laurent would have taken them out.

"You think that's really what happened to them?" I asked. "How do you know?"

"Tracks," Charlie said grimly. "And there was a little blood, too." He paused, and I thought I heard a voice in the background. "Look, kid, I've to go. Don't worry about Julie, I'm sure she's fine. You'll see her again before long."

"Okay," I said, feeling just a little frustrated, and I hung up the phone. Before I'd really had time to think about it, I dialed the Black number again, my fingers moving with practiced ease over the buttons I'd hit at least a hundred times in the last week.

To my shock, Bonnie answered on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

Because I hadn't really been expecting to talk to her, I wasn't ready, and when I spoke, my voice came out in almost a growl. "Hey," I said, sounding like a prize-fighter coming into the ring. I took a deep breath, then tried to force my voice to assume an easier, more friendly tone. "Think I could talk to Jules for a minute?"

"Sorry, Jules is out at the moment."

Surprise, surprise. "You know where she went?"

"Out with some friends, I think."

I was getting pushy again now, and my voice didn't come out as casual as I meant it to as I said, "Yeah? Like Quil maybe? Or some others?"

Bonnie's tone was guarded. "No," she said slowly. "No, I don't think I saw Quil there today."

"What about Emma?" I said.

"Oh yeah," said Bonnie, and she sounded happier to be able to answer in the affirmative. "Yeah, she's been hanging out with Emma."

That was enough to confirm my suspicions. Emma had already been sucked into the Amazon-cult.

"Think you could tell her I called?" I said. "And tell her to call me back when she gets the chance."

"Sure, no problem," Bonnie answered easily. The line clicked a moment later.

I got in the truck and headed straight out to La Push. I'd made up my mind. I was going to park the truck in front of the Black house, and then I was going to sit there. All through the night, and even through school tomorrow, if that's what it took. Jules would have to come home eventually, and when she did, we were going to talk. I was going to find out what was going on, and I was going to help her.

As I passed the forested area and neared the reservation, my eyes, which were on the road, noticed something. A lone figure, walking just along the edge. I could tell from the black hair and russet skin visible above the collar of a jacket that it was someone from the reservation, and for a moment my heart leaped as I had the irrational thought that maybe it was Jules.

However, as I drew closer I saw the figure was too small to be Jules, and I sank a little. But then I blinked, and I thought I did recognize who it was. I crossed the truck to the wrong side of the road and pulled up alongside her, cranking down the window and leaning my head out. "Quil?" I called. "That you?"

Quil paused where she was, and turned to look up at me. Her expression made my stomach lurch. Her eyes were distant, and there was a deep slash across her brow where it was creased with brooding worry.

"Hi, Beau," she said, then sighed and looked away.

I swallowed, and tried to make my voice light. "I didn't figure you for a hitchhiker."

She didn't smile. Quil had always seemed like the type to me who never let anyone get her down. But her eyes were downcast, focusing on the road just a few feet in front of her. "I'm not...usually." she said.

I surveyed her expression for a long moment. "You okay?" I said at last, gently.

She didn't answer, and I said, "Hey, you want me to give you a lift? I'm headed over to the reservation anyway."

She hesitated, then shrugged, indifferent. "Sure, I guess."

I waited until she had gone around to the other side of my truck and slid into the seat, and told me approximately where her house was, before I started back down the road, crossing back over to the correct side. My eyes flickered toward her. "So," I said, in a would-be casual tone. "Seen anything of Jules lately?"

Quil didn't look at me, her eyes staring out the side window. "I saw her just a bit ago. From a distance."

"A distance?" I said, my brow creasing.

"Yeah." She wrapped her fist lightly on the side of the truck door, with restless agitation. "I caught a glimpse of her and Em together, just on the edge of the forest. I think I saw Sam and the others too. I know she saw me—we made eye contact for just a second. But she didn't wave or anything, she just kind of ignored me. Then they all took off. I thought maybe I could catch up so I followed, but they lost me. I just kept on going for a while...I just barely found the road again."

"Hmm," I said, my mouth set in a hard line. "Guess that settles it then."

Quil's eyes drifted back to me, listless, but with a touch of confusion. I noticed her usual carefully styled hair was a mess, and the usual black makeup around her eyes was smeared a little, as though she'd been crying. "Settles what?"

I shrugged. "Jules told me about Samantha, and what's been going on. The gang, cult, whatever it is. Jules hasn't talked to me in weeks, I knew something was up."

Quil shook her head. "Jules and I talked about it before...before. She didn't want to be a part of it, or Em either. But now...I just don't understand what could have happened. Maybe it's drugs or something, but I just can't picture it. I'm almost afraid it's something worse. And I'm afraid..." She suddenly gripped the armrest of the truck tightly, and her eyes were wide with fear as she stared out the front windshield. "...I'm afraid that I'm going to be next."

I turned to look at her. "You won't be," I said, my voice more confident than I felt.

She snorted slightly, glancing at me, then back at the line of trees beside the road. "Yeah, like you'd be any help," she muttered. "You can't even fix a car."

I looked back at her seriously. "I'm going to get Jules away from Sam, whatever I have to do," I insisted. "We're going to get her back."

Quil shook her head, smiling without humor. Her eyes were hopeless as she continued to stare out the window.

We were at the reservation now, and I slowed. Quil listlessly told me to let her out, as her house was only a little further down the way, and I stopped. I watched her slam the truck door, then trudge along the shoulder of the road, arms folded, head bent against the light wind.

The fear on Quil's face and, even worse, her hopeless resignation, continued to occupy my thoughts as I made a wide U-turn and headed back toward the Blacks' house. I stopped in the gravel drive and cut the engine. I rolled down the windows to get some air, then sat back in my seat, settling in to wait.

I looked up at the house, and noticed a flash of movement in the window. Bonnie was there, and her mouth opened in shock before the expression quickly turned to a frown, a deep furrow in her brow. I grinned pointedly and waved, and she, regarding me with suspicion, dropped the curtain.

I knew I could be here for hours, so I reached over into my school bag and pulled out my math book, along with an already completed assignment of all the odd problems. Maybe I'd do the even problems for the lesson, too, just to keep me busy.

I was barely into the third problem when there came a sharp wrap on the side of my door. Startled, I jumped slightly, then turned, expecting to see Bonnie there to drive me off.

It was Jules.

"What are you doing here?" she snarled.

In the few short weeks since I'd last seen her, Jules had been completely transformed. Just as Charlie had noted, much of her long hair had been sheared off, so it hung in uneven lengths around her face, as though someone had taken a knife to it. The planes of her face seemed somehow harder, too, the angles sharper. But none of that really bothered me—it was the expression in her face, in the eyes, that stared at me with undisguised ferocity. Her normally warm, twinkling dark brown eyes were hard. The warm sunlight that she gave off had gone straight to the crushing pressure of a black hole.

"Jules?" I said, stunned, and my voice cracked.

Her mouth tightened, and my eyes flickered to see that she wasn't alone. Four others stood a short ways back, all glaring at me with the same ferocity, the same dislike.

All except one—Samantha Uley stood just a little behind the others, her expression calm, almost serene as she gazed evenly back at me, her face betraying none of her thoughts.

I sat there for a moment, unable to process it. I just stared back at Samantha, and her unfathomable expression. Then, slowly, I felt something click into place. Her fault. She had done this.

I'd never been a violent guy. I'd never gotten into much in the way of fights—I'd gotten beaten up on a few occasions as a kid, and when I'd hit my growth spurt, my size had been enough to make people leave me alone, before they could find out just how uncoordinated I was. I'd never thrown a real punch like I meant it and actually hit anyone before—let alone hit a girl.

But as I looked at Samantha now, I was suddenly filled with violent thoughts. Perhaps it was because, looking at her now, she didn't seem very much like a girl, or even human. She seemed more like an evil goddesses from one of those old Greek legends, the ones who descended from the heavens to toy with human lives, who existed to be defeated by the heroes, sent spiraling to the depths of Tartarus.

Samantha didn't seem human, and suddenly I wished I wasn't human either. I wished I had the power to fight her on her level. If only I was a god, too—or at least the closest thing to it.

I wrenched my gaze away from Samantha to look at Jules again, and her face contorted in the mask of a stranger.

Jules's scowl intensified. "What do you want?" she demanded.

I swallowed, forcing myself to hold her harsh gaze. "I...wanted to talk to you," I said in a low voice.

"So talk," she hissed, and her black eyes seemed to bore holes mine. "No one's stopping you." Her knuckles were white as she gripped the side of my truck door, as though she would have liked to wrench it off.

I didn't respond at first. I'd never seen Jules act like this before. Not with anyone, and certainly not me. She was always carefree, happy and joking. Seeing her, looking at me like this—it felt like I'd just been punched in the stomach.

"Alone, if you don't mind," I said more quietly still, and I was surprised by how steady my voice sounded.

Jules turned her head, and even though I couldn't follow her gaze, I knew instinctively she was looking to Sam.

Samantha nodded once, then said something in a low voice. It sounded like it was in a foreign language, and I could only guess that it was Quileute. Without a word then, she turned and disappeared into the Black house, and a moment later the other girls, Emma, Paula, and a girl I thought was named Jay followed, none of them once glancing back at me.

"All right," said Jules. When the others were out of sight, I saw the tension and hostility in her frame relax a little, and some of the ferocity left her face. However, as some of the anger disappeared, it left behind a kind of deadness, and she stared at me with eyes that looked almost solid black.

I took a breath. "So," I said. "I think you know what I'm going to ask."

Jules didn't reply, only stared at me, her mouth tight. An unexplained resentment colored her dark eyes, and I couldn't seem to breathe right under her cold gaze.

I glanced back at the house, where I was sure eyes within were watching us, and I said, "Let's go."

Jules said nothing as I got awkwardly out of the car and headed in the direction of the trees to the north. I concentrated on the squelching sound of my feet as I walked through the wet grass and thick mud, but when I didn't hear the sound of footsteps behind me, I turned, expecting to see Jules still back by the truck. However, I was startled to see she was right beside me, moving with almost perfect silence even on the damp ground.

As we reached the edge of the trees and headed down the path, I began to feel a little better. Sam and the others couldn't see us here. However, I continued to walk, still trying to think how to start the conversation. I was starting to feel frustrated, even disappointed. How had Jules let herself get pulled into this? She'd hated the idea so much, and now she was suddenly like a completely different person. All the fun and warmth were gone, and now she was acting like some kind of thug. And Bonnie didn't even seem to care, and Samantha was able to just stand there, acting all cool and nonchalant.

Jules suddenly increased her speed, and even though my legs were a little longer, she easily passed me and halted right in my path, swinging around to face me.

I blinked, forced to stop. For a moment I stood there gaping, startled by the smooth, liquid grace of the movement, like a professional ice skater or an Olympic gymnast. In spite of Jules's natural athleticism, she'd always been kind of awkward and liable to trip over things, not unlike me.

"Well?" Jules said coolly. "Let's get this over with, I don't have all day."

I said nothing, only stood where I was, waiting. She knew what I wanted to know.

Jules suddenly sighed deeply, and some of the fight seemed to drain out of her. "It wasn't what I thought after all. I was completely wrong."

My eyes never moved from her face. "You mean Samantha hasn't been forcing people into this cult against their will?"

Jules looked down. "No. She's...not who I thought. In fact, she's a good person—she's been helping me a lot."

I looked Jules square in the eye, and I didn't believe her.

"Right," I said sarcastically. "Sam is great. So if that wasn't it, what's really going on? What's she helping you with?"

Jules hesitated, eyes still on the forest path. "I can't tell you."

"Right," I said again, my lip curling, even as pain needled the back of my mind. "Of course you can't."

"She's helping me," she repeated in a murmur, almost like a trance. "It wasn't at all what I thought. Everything she has to deal with...what we have to deal with..."

Suddenly her face contorted with anger. She clenched her fists and her entire body shook, and her black eyes seemed to stare right past me, at something I couldn't see.

I forced myself to stay calm, hoping she would be calm, too. I took a slow, deliberate step forward, stretching out a hand to her. "Come on, Jules," I said, my voice low and kind. "You've got to tell me what's going on—what changed. You know I can't help you if I don't know what happened."

Jules shook her head, and her face was suddenly a mask of pain. "You can't help me," she whispered. "No one can help me now."

"Just tell me what she did to you," I pleaded, reaching for her. I wanted to put my arms around her like I had last time, to help soothe her pain and worry.

However, Jules backed away from me, shaking her head vigorously. "No," she said, with a note of desperation. "No, don't touch me."

I couldn't take it. "She's told you not to touch anyone?" I said in a low voice.

Jules's eyes flickered back up to my face, and very suddenly her pained eyes hardened. "Look," she said coldly. "This is not Sam's fault. If this is anyone's fault, it's—"

She broke off and looked away, and her dark eyes were again filled with resentment again, with a bitterness I couldn't understand.

"Who?" I demanded. "Who's to blame?"

Her mouth suddenly curled, and she gave a harsh, derisive laugh devoid of humor. "I don't think you want to know."

"Tell me," I said, my voice rising. "Tell me now."

She looked up into my eyes, her mouth still twisted in that half smile that didn't hold a trace of amusement. "It was them," she said softly. "They did this to us—your beloved, blood-sucking beasts."

I froze where I was, and for a moment, my mind went blank.

No. No, these were two separate worlds. My old, magical but terrifying world, and the real one I'd been trying to get used to for the past several months. Jules was part of the real world. So why—why would she say that as though—as though—

"I told you didn't want to know," she said, sneering, but her eyes still hard with anger. "I knew you wouldn't want to hear it."

"What...what are you talking about?" I said slowly.

"Don't waste my time," she said. "You know who I mean. If you make me say the name, I swear I will."

"I don't...understand," I said again.

"The Cullens," she breathed, and she watched my face as the pain struck me deep in my chest. She added, a little more gently, "You made me say it, you know. The name. I know how you are when you hear it. I noticed that a long time ago." A touch of forlorn wistfulness crept into her voice.

I shook my head, trying somehow to make sense of what she was saying. Okay, the Quileutes had legends about the blood-drinkers. Jules had never believed it, but maybe Samantha's whole gig was to convince the younger girls that the vampires did exist, and then...then what? Fight them? Even if that wasn't such a hopeless objective, what was the point, when there were no longer any vampires in Forks?

I scrambled, trying to figure out what I might have said a year ago, as I walked with Jules along that beach—what a person without any of the knowledge of the bizarre or supernatural would say in my place.

"This is about that legend you told me," I said slowly. "Back on the beach. The superstitions." I shook my head. "Come on, Jules...you don't really believe that stuff, do you?"

Her expression didn't change, and she only stared at me coldly.

I went on, "Besides, how can you blame...I mean, they left. They've been gone for ages. How can they be related to whatever Samantha is doing now?"

"Sam's not doing anything," Jules snapped. "And maybe they are gone, but that doesn't change anything. Sometimes things are just set in motion—and then it's too late."

"What?" I demanded, my frustration nearly a crescendo, tripping over my words as the questions tumbled from my mouth. "What's been set in motion? What's too late? What are you blaming them for?"

Jules moved so fast I didn't even see it, and suddenly her face was an inch from mine, her lips curled back from her teeth in a feral snarl.

"For existing," she hissed.

I blinked, and I was stunned when Edythe's voice suddenly drifted up to the forefront of my consciousness.

"Quiet now, Beau," she said softly. "Be still. Don't push her."

Jules stood in front of me, quivering with anger.

I was a little confused. I'd felt certain I'd figured out what caused the hallucinations—adrenaline induced by danger. I was never sorry to hear Edythe's voice—ever since Lauren, I couldn't block out her name the way I had before—but it didn't makes sense that I would be hearing it now, when there wasn't any danger.

"Back off a minute," Edythe said softly. "Let her calm down."

I shook my head. "Ridiculous," I muttered, and I wasn't sure who I was answering.

Jules took several deep breathes, then backed up a step. "Whatever," she said. "This is pointless. I'm not going to argue, the damage is already done."

"What damage?" I demanded.

Instead of answering, Jules stepped around me, heading back in the direction of the house. It seemed our talk was over.

But no—there was so much more to say. I couldn't let things end like this.

"I ran into Quil on the way over," I called after her, desperate for anything that would get her attention.

Jules paused, but didn't turn.

"She's scared," I said. "She's scared she's next on the list."

Jules turned her head partway around, and for just a moment, a spasm of pain flickered across her face. Then she turned away, shaking her head. "No," she murmured, and it sounded like she was talking more to herself than to me. "No, that's impossible. It's over now. She shouldn't...She won't..." Jules bent where she was, clutching her head, her teeth gritted. Suddenly she spun, and in a blur of movement, her fist struck the trunk of the nearest tree.

I jumped back a step, shocked. Jules was strong, tough, but I'd never seen inclined to actual violence. The large tree shuddered under the strength of the blow, and a section of brittle bark crumbled away. I saw a long crack in the bare pale trunk underneath.

Jules jerked back, staring down at her hand. For a moment, her eyes were wide with something like horror, then she abruptly spun away. "I have to get back," she said, and without another word, she started back toward the house, moving so fast I had to run to catch up.

"Back to Samantha and her followers," I accused at her retreating back.

"Yeah, that's right," she said roughly.

As she drew level with my truck, I finally caught up with her, and I reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. I could feel her skin through the jacket she wore—hot, feverish, just like that last day as we'd been going home from the theater.

She threw me off like I'd burned her and she spun around once again to face me.

Her face was dark, almost menacing, as she looked at me. "Go home, Beau," she said in a hard voice. "Go home, and don't come back."

I hesitated. "I won't," I said quietly.

She stared back at me for a moment, her face again full of bitter resentment, anger. She suddenly seized me by the arm, and roughly dragged me around the truck bed, then threw me in the direction of the driver's side door. I staggered, and it took me a second to right myself. I spun back to face her, and I saw the look in her eyes was even harder than before.

She pointed at my truck. "Get out of here, Beau. Right now. I never want to see your face around here again—okay?"

I stared back at her, and for the first time, some of the anger slipped through the wall I'd tried to erect—the wall of telling myself she was only acting this way because of Sam. The way she looked at me—as though everything I did irritated her, as though I was no more than an annoyance who had outlived my appeal—it felt like a blow to the chest.

"Jules..." I whispered, and my voice was pleading.

"Look, Beau," she said, voice lower but every bit as hard as before. "It's over. Whatever we've been doing the past couple months, we're not going back to it. Ever. As of now, you and me—we aren't friends. It's over. It's done. Go home, and don't come back. I don't want to see you again."

I stood where I was, staring at her. I could feel it, creeping through me slowly. Desperation prickled on my forehead, slowly spread through me from the black hole in my chest to every part of me. This couldn't happen. I wouldn't let it.

"You..." I began slowly, haltingly. "You said before...you said you wouldn't ever..."

Jules looked back at me, her eyes cold. "I'm sorry, Beau," she said evenly. "I'm sorry it has to be this way, but it does." As she spoke, she sounded like a perfect stranger.

As I looked back into her eyes, I thought I saw something there—a look I didn't understand. She looked at me with the eyes of someone desperate, trapped.

Something icy seemed to slide down into my stomach as a thought rose, unbidden, from the back of my mind. I'd wondered how she could have possibly gotten mixed up with Sam, landed herself in this situation. But maybe I'd been wrong. Maybe that bitter resentment, that trapped look didn't have anything to do with Samantha and her people. Maybe Sam was, ironically, her refuge—a refuge from what she really wanted to escape from.

All this time, I'd taken her kind, generous nature for granted. But maybe she'd finally reached her limit. Maybe joining Samantha was her way of finally getting away from what she desperately needed to escape from. Me—me and the empty friendship that couldn't ever be what she wanted it to be.

I ought to let her, I knew. I ought to go back home, and let her live her life—free from me, the irreparably broken dead weight that I was.

But I couldn't.

I heard myself speaking before I'd even fully decided what I would say. "Jules, look I...know what I said before...about how I couldn't change. I'm sorry. But...But who knows really, right?"

I heard myself, stretching, stretching the truth near to the breaking point, until it was something very much like a lie. "I mean...maybe, if you just gave me some more time...who knows, right? Don't give up so fast. I mean, sometimes all it takes is a little doggedness, right?"

Jules's mask of anger slipped. As she looked at me, her eyes were suddenly haunted, and her mouth twisted with pain. "Oh, Beau," she said softly. "Don't do that to me, please."

I knew how terrible I was being, how selfish, but I couldn't seem to stop the flow of words. "It's because I've been acting like this, isn't it? That's why this is happening. But I swear, Jules, I'll try...I'll try harder, I will. Just please...stay."

Jules shook her head, so hard it was almost violent. "It's not you, Beau, I swear—it's not you at all. It's nothing you've done, it's—" She suddenly choked and her eyes dropped from mine. "It's me." She looked down at herself, at the palms of her hands as though they were covered in something vile. "I'm not what I was before. I'm—not fit to be around you. I'm no good to be your friend, or anything else."

I was quiet for a moment. I tried to get my mind around everything, everything she had said. Bloodsuckers, Samantha helping them, not fit to be around anyone...I couldn't make sense of it all. A new tactic to get rid of me? Or was Samantha's cult to blame after all?

In my confusion, I was suddenly angry again, and words poured out from me in a savage rush.

"That's ridiculous, Jules," I snapped. "You are my friend, and you always will be. What do you mean you're no good to be my friend? Is that what Sam's been feeding you—You're not good to be anyone's friend but hers, is that it?"

Jules's expression had hardened again at my mention of Sam. "No one had to tell me anything," she said flatly. "I already know—I know what I am."

"You're my friend," I repeated, desperate. "Please, Jules, don't go. I—I need—"

But Jules was backing away from me, shaking her head. "Sorry, Beau," she said, and her voice had fallen to a broken mumble. "I'm sorry it turned out like this." And, before I could do anything to stop her, she turned away from me, and disappeared into the house.

I could only stand where I was, staring at the place she had left. Rain pelted the top of my head, soaking me clear through to the skin.

I waited for her to come back. She would come back, I was certain. No matter what she said, we were friends. She wouldn't be able to help but come back.

The rain was really pouring now, and the wind howled. The droplets were hitting me at an angle, freezing against against my face and clothes. Still I waited.

At last the door of the house opened, but it wasn't Jules in the doorway.

Bonnie gazed out at me through the rain, and there was pity in her old face. "Charlie just called," she said, speaking above the pounding of the rain. "I told him you were on your way."

I didn't answer, only turned and wordlessly climbed into my truck. I realized the windows were still open and the seats were slick and wet. I didn't care.

Maybe this hadn't been quite as bad as—as the last time. The end. But that wasn't much comfort—like trying to compare death by drowning to being stabbed or poisoned. Maybe one was a more painful way to die than the other, but either way, you were still dead.

I'd really started to believe that the ragged hole could be partially healed, or at least plugged up so it didn't hurt so bad. I'd thought at least if I could only be around Jules, things could almost be okay, at least for periods of time. But I'd been deluding myself. Jules hadn't been helping me at all, she'd just been setting me up to punch out a gaping hole of her own.

I drove up to the house in the truck to find Charlie out waiting for me on the porch. He'd gotten up to come over before I'd even come to a stop.

"Bonnie called," he said as he stood by the truck door. "She said you and Jules got into a fight. I just wanted to make sure you were...okay..."

As his eyes swept across my face, he faltered on the last words. He froze in place for a second, his eyes widening in horror. He reached up and gripped my shoulder supportively, but the hopeless horror in his face remained, as he recognized the expression in my eyes.

"Let's get you inside," he said quietly, abruptly.

I got out of the car, and Charlie put an arm around my shoulders, closing the truck door and opening the house door for me as I walked listlessly into the house.

Charlie wasn't happy until he got me to the couch to sit, and got a hunting blanket from upstairs he made me wrap around myself. Only then did I notice I was still shivering from the cold.

"What happened?" he asked gruffly, again putting a hand on my shoulder and shaking it. "Anything...you want to talk about?"

There was a lot to say, but the words didn't seem to want to come.

He waited patiently, looking at me anxiously, and finally I spoke.

"We aren't friends anymore," I said in a flat, dead voice. The words sounded childish to my own ears, but I didn't care. I continued dully, "I think—I don't think Samantha will let her be friends with me."

Charlie looked at me very oddly. "Who told you that?"

I took a shuddering breath, then looked straight ahead, staring at nothing. "Jules did. Or at least, I can read between the lines."

I expected Charlie to defend Sam, to tell me I must be misinterpreting things. But he was staring at me, and he looked shaken.

"You really think there might be something going on?" he asked in a low voice. He continued on, almost to himself, "Sometimes, with kids, you really don't know what's going on behind the scenes...And sometimes the charismatic ones, who seem like they've got everything together, are the ones you have to watch out for the most..."

I sat where I was for a minute more, then lethargically pushed myself up from the couch. My clothes felt heavy as lead, and the dripping water was soaking the carpet. "I'm going to go change," I muttered dully, then turned and slowly headed for the stairs.

I took a hot shower, trying to rid myself of the cold that seemed to have seeped down to my very bones, but after a few minutes I was still shivering, and eventually I gave up and shut it off. In the sudden quiet, I realized I could hear Charlie downstairs, talking to someone. It sounded like he was on the phone, and his voice was raised.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I pushed the door open a crack.

"I don't think so, Bonnie. That doesn't make sense."

A long minute passed before Charlie suddenly exploded, "Don't you dare try to push this onto my son!" He lowered his voice and continued, "He's a good kid, and I know he's been straight forward with her all along...Well, if that was it, then why didn't you say so before? No, I think Beau's instincts are right on about this...If he says your daughter was scared before—" He broke off, apparently cut off mid-sentence, but when he spoke again, he was almost shouting.

"That is ridiculous, I won't sit and listen to that. I don't want to hear that kind of talk about my son again, is that clear?" He paused for some kind of response, and his reply was almost too low for me to pick up. "No, I'm not going to go bringing that up again. You don't have any idea how tough that was on him, or what he's been going through. He's only just started to come around, and I think a lot of that has been thanks to Julie. If something is going on down there with those girls and my son ends up getting hurt again—every one of you who's been turning a blind eye to this will have to answer to me."

There were a couple more curt exchanges before I heard Charlie slam down the phone in its cradle.

I pulled on my pajamas, then crept across the hall to my room, as Charlie continued to mutter angrily in the kitchen.

I laid down in my bed, staring at the ceiling. So, apparently Bonnie had decided to turn me into the bad guy. I'd been toying around with Jules, and she'd finally had the sense to get away from me before it could get out of hand. For just a moment, I'd believed that myself. That, beneath everything else, that was really the root cause of everything.

But something in the things Jules had said to me, particularly there at the end, had me thinking otherwise now. I felt like there was some kind of secret going on, something beyond normal, everyday life, which Bonnie and the other council members who paid no attention to the alarm and strangeness surrounding Amazon warrior Samantha and her loyal minions.

I rolled over onto my side, and I was glad that at least Charlie was on my side now.

I closed my eyes, and as the darkness of the day settled down upon me, I tried to find a pinprick of light, something to hold onto when I felt like I might be crushed. Edythe's soothing, warning voice played at the back of my mind, over and over, until at last I fell asleep.

There I found myself walking in a forest. Not the thick, deep forest of my usual dream, but a light, sparse one, as though I were just on its periphery. Beside me strode a lanky, graceful figure, and I turned to see Jules. Not the Jules I knew, but the new Jules, graceful, her face hard and distorted with bitterness. Strangely, the unnatural smooth grace of her walk reminded me of someone else, and as I watched, her dark skin turned pale, and her shorn, uneven raven hair lengthened down to her back, shimmering bronze where the light touched it. Her dark eyes melted into gold, then to crimson, then back to gold again. And then at last her features shifted, and her face became so beautiful I couldn't find my breath. I stretched out a hand to take her arm, but she stepped out of my reach. I opened my mouth to call her name, but before the word could leave my mouth, she was gone. I heard a sudden screech, like someone screaming—

I startled awake, and for a moment I looked around me in the dark, disoriented. Then I heard the same strange sound from my dream again, and I realized I'd really heard it. A high-pitched squeal, like fingernails across glass, followed by a heavy thud. I turned toward my window, and felt my blood freeze in my veins.