the end

I woke up feeling absolutely lousy. My arm had burned all night and I hadn't gotten much sleep, and my head felt like it was splitting open. I took another dose of Tylenol before I got dressed and went downstairs. Charlie was already gone, and I didn't much feel like eating, so I skipped breakfast and went on out to my truck.

I sat in the seat for a long minute, staring straight ahead without seeing anything. However, I couldn't quite quash the anxiety that had begun to bubble in the pit of my stomach. The events of the previous day kept going around and around in my mind. Edythe's angry face, tinged with conflict and distress at its edges. The feeling of that last kiss and the distant look in her eyes as we parted.

More than likely all this would eventually resolve itself without any special action on my part, and I was probably making things worse by letting it get to me. Yet even so, I couldn't help but wonder what sorts of things had been going through her mind once I fell asleep and she circled alone out in the darkness.

Shaking my head, I started the key in the ignition. Then, with the only barest hint of hesitation, I reached up and fiddled with the knobs on my new stereo, skipping through the stations until I hit a song with plenty of base and heavy metal. In spite of my headache, I cranked up the volume, hoping the sound would drown out my thoughts.

When I turned into the Forks High School parking lot, I scanned the cars apprehensively, almost afraid she wouldn't be there. However, my shoulders sagged with relief as I caught sight of the familiar silver Volvo on the far side. Edythe was there, leaning against it.

I got out quickly, slamming the truck door behind me, and hurried over to her. As I approached, I stayed wary in case she had fallen back into her bad mood from yesterday, though from a distance her posture seemed relaxed.

"Hey," I said cautiously.

Edythe turned her eyes toward me, and I felt my momentary hope that things might just go back to normal slip back down into my stomach.

Edythe didn't look angry or upset. There was no tension in her shoulders or her face. Rather, there was no emotion in her face at all.

"Hey," she replied, and it might have come from an automaton for all the warmth it had. She turned away from me, in the direction of the school. "We better go, we're going to be late for class."

I stood where I was a moment, staring after her, irresolute. However, she didn't stop walking, and I scrambled forward to catch up.

I felt queasy. But there was no point giving myself over to doomsday predictions. She was obviously still upset about yesterday. Better to just let her have some space for the time being, give her some time to work through it.

"How's your arm?" she asked, after I'd been walking beside her for a minute or so. She spoke without turning her head, her eyes on the brick of the school wall in front of us.

"Oh, not bad," I lied. I was glad I'd thought to bring the entire bottle of Tylenol in my bag.

In class, Edythe never once turned in my direction, didn't speak to me. I didn't initiate any more conversation, and instead kept shooting glances back at the clock, desperate for lunch to come so I could find Archie. I really could use a friendly face about now, and maybe I would get an update on how Jessamine was doing.

However, when the bell finally rang and Edythe and I entered the cafeteria, my eyes eagerly scanning the tables, it didn't take long to realize that he wasn't there. We went to sit down at our usual table, and I waited impatiently for a bit. But when the last of the students from his period filtered in, and he was not among them, I finally turned to Edythe and broke the morning-long silence.

"Hey, where's Archie?" I said, as casually as I could. "He here today?" However, I was afraid I already knew the answer.

Edythe's expression was vaguely bored, staring off out one of the high cafeteria windows. It was a minute before she replied.

"No...he isn't. He's with Jessamine."

"Oh," I said. My eyes flickered away to hide my disappointment. "How's she doing, by the way?"

"She's gone away for awhile."

This made me pause. "What? Where?"

Edythe's eyes were still on one of the cafeteria's high windows, as though the conversation barely interested her. "Nowhere in particular."

"I see." It made sense. If Jessamine wanted to get away for a while, Archie would be there every step of the way as support. Still, if Edythe didn't let up soon, life was really going to suck without Archie there to lighten the mood and periodically try to talk sense into her.

"He'll be gone awhile," Edythe continued. "He was trying to convince her to go to Denali."

"Oh," I said. I remembered Denali; another band of vampires lived there who, like Carine and the Cullens, had chosen a life of denial, abstaining from preying on humans. Edythe had taken a trip there some time back, when my arrival in Forks had made it difficult for her.

I felt my brow crease slightly in guilt. Royal and Eleanor were gone too, I suspected because Royal couldn't stomach being around me, and now Archie and Jessamine were gone too. I was like a plague.

For the first time, Edythe's eyes flickered to me, and she seemed to read the pain in my face. "How's your arm?" she asked, her voice a touch concerned, but her bored, remote expression unchanged.

I could feel some of my fear turning to frustration now—I wondered just how long she could keep this up. "Fine," I said, a little more sharply than I meant to. "Just peachy."

Edythe shrugged indifferently, then went back to staring vaguely out the window. However, as I returned my attention to my food, which I was definitely not hungry for, I noticed Edythe studying me out of the corner of her eye. Not with an expression I was used to—her brow was furrowed, as though she were trying to calculate a difficult math problem, or grasp a new, unfamiliar concept. When I turned to look back at her, her eyes went back to the window. For some reason I could not explain, that look in her eyes when she looked at me troubled me far more than when she was ignoring me.

By the end of the day, I was feeling tired and irritable, and I had about had it with the perpetual silent treatment.

"So," I said as we walked out to my truck. "Will you be coming over later tonight?"

Edythe glanced vaguely in my direction, and her distracted expression betrayed a hint of surprise. "Later?"

"Yeah," I said. "I've got work today. I had to trade shifts to get yesterday off."

"Oh." Her eyes once again wandered back to the space in front of her, thoughts far away.

"So," I said, injecting a bright note into my tone, determined to exact an actual promise. "You'll meet me at my house when I get off work today. Right?"

"If you'd like."

"Course I would." I forced my mouth to spread into a smile.

We stood there for a moment, silent but for the murmur of the crowds as everyone headed out. At last I said awkwardly, "Well, I'll see you later, then."

"See you," she said, turning back to the Volvo.

As I drove to the Newton's sporting goods store, I felt the sense of unease I had been carrying around in my stomach all day harden into a knot. What was going on? Was this really all about yesterday? Or was there something else I was missing?

I decided the only thing to do was to take a step back, take stock of the situation. Give my mind something to focus on besides these vague worries.

There was no question that what had happened yesterday was going to affect things. Edythe had told me from the beginning that it wasn't responsible for me to be hanging around a whole house of vampires. So maybe she wouldn't want me to see her family anymore, or go to the Cullen's house. I would hate that, but I could deal with it, if that was best for the family once they all go back. I'd still see Archie at school, and maybe he'd still visit at Charlie's house. For my part, I didn't really feel like much had happened—compared to last spring, nothing really had happened. But if it made Edythe feel better, I could agree to it.

Or maybe, at the end of the school year, it would be better for Edythe and I to go away entirely, so her family wouldn't have to stay so spread out, and I wouldn't have to be a incessant reminder of Jessamine's momentary lapse of control. The two of us could go to college, or pretend that's what we were doing. A year wouldn't be so long.

Examining the possibilities and making potential plans had me feeling better by the time I reached the store. McKayla was already there, and she smiled and waved at me as I came in. I grabbed my vest from the rack, giving her a vague smile, still distracted.

"How was your birthday?" McKayla asked as I approached the register.

I glanced over at her, then looked away. "I'm glad it's over," I muttered.

McKayla's brow crinkled, bemused, and she didn't ask me any more about yesterday.

The clock on the wall inched around the circuit like a snail. Several times I was sure it had stopped altogether. In spite of Edythe's cool attitude toward me all day, I was impatient to see her again, hoping she might have come out of her mood by the time I got back to my place. When work let out and I turned my truck onto my street, I sagged with relief when I saw Edythe was already there, her silver car parked on the curb outside my house.

I got quickly out of my truck and practically jogged to the front door. I kicked off my shoes inside, then hurried into the living room, where I could hear the theme music from ESPN's SportsCenter.

"Hey, Dad, I'm home. Hey—Hey, Edythe."

My dad was sitting on the couch, watching the game. Edythe was curled up in the armchair, a book open in front of her, world records of biggest fish caught which I'd gotten Charlie for a birthday present, her eyes glued to the page as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Hey, Beau," Charlie answered, eyes still on the television. "We just had cold pizza. I think it's still on the table."

"Sure...thanks."

I continued to stand there awkwardly in the doorway.

Edythe turned a page of the full-color illustrations of bass and trout, then slowly raised her eyes to me, as though reluctant to look away from her reading. For a moment I saw a touch of confusion there, her brow furrowed in concentration, as though trying to remember something. However, whatever it was, she couldn't seem to quite grab hold of it, and when her lips finally turned up in a smile, the cool distance in her eyes was unchanged.

"I'll be right with you," she said vaguely, then her eyes slipped back down to the book.

"Yeah...yeah, okay."

I turned and trudged to the kitchen. There I stood next to the counter for a minute, staring down at the pizza without seeing it. Finally, I slid down into a chair, gripping my hands together and bending my head. I pressed my forehead against my white knuckles, and it took me a moment to realize I was shaking slightly.

Something was wrong here. Completely wrong. I felt it deep in my gut, in a way that I couldn't entirely explain to myself.

I tried to shake it off, and mentally repeated the possibilities I'd gone through earlier today. She might tell me that I had to stay away from the rest of her family from now on. That might include Archie, too, especially if he was away with Jessamine for a long time. She might tell me she wanted to leave—give her scattered family members a chance to reassemble. Maybe she didn't want to wait until the end of the school, maybe she would want it to be now.

For me to take off that abruptly would make the transition harder on Charlie, and I wondered if I'd be allowed to see my mom again, or if leaving with Edythe would mean a more permanent separation from both of them.

That would be rough, but even so, I'd made up my mind. My path was set, and whatever sacrifices I had to make along the way, I would willingly make them. Wherever it took me, my future was with Edythe—as long as I could rely on that, I could deal with anything else.

Sighing, my gaze fell on the photobook and camera sitting on the kitchen table, the gifts from my parents. I slipped a finger under the black cover of the photobook, and flipped it back, looking at the empty spaces for photos. It suddenly occurred to me that, if we were going to be leaving soon, maybe I should start getting some pictures. It would be nice to have some record of the time I'd spent here.

Detecting no sign of movement in the front room, I stole upstairs as quietly as I could, and got a snapshot of my room. I got a little nostalgic as I realized that it really hadn't changed much in the seventeen years I'd been using it. Then I reluctantly went back down, walking slowly to delay seeing Edythe again, and the distant look in her eyes. I reminded myself to just give her some space. Whatever she was going to ask me to do, she probably knew it would be hard. I'd leave her to herself, so she could work up to it.

I figured Edythe would notice when I quietly approached the living room door, camera raised in front of me like a weapon. However, her eyes didn't move. Forcing myself to ignore the ice in my stomach, I snapped the photo.

The two of them did look around then, Charlie frowning at me, Edythe's expression like marble.

"Hey," Charlie said. "What was that for?"

I forced myself to look more cheerful than I felt. "Come on, Dad, you know Mom. She'll be shooting me emails demanding to know if I've been using my stuff yet before long. I figured I'd take the initiative and shock her."

His frown deepened. "But why am I in the picture?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You bought camera. You're in it."

He grumbled to himself.

"Hey, Edythe," I said casually, not meeting her eyes. "Would you take one of me and my dad?"

Edythe set the book aside, and I handed her the camera. I sat on the edge of the sofa, putting an arm around Charlie's shoulder in a kind of half bro hug. He sighed like a martyr.

"Smile, Beau," Edythe murmured.

I did my best, and the light flashed.

"Let me get one of you two together," Charlie suggested, eager to escape being one of the subjects.

Edythe stood smoothly from the armchair, reaching out to turn over the camera.

I went to stand beside her, and I felt her slip an arm around my waist, but her hand barely touched my side. I put my arm around her shoulder, gripping a little more tightly than was probably necessary.

"Smile, Beau," Charlie reminded me again.

I forced my mouth to spread into another smile, and stared into the camera. The flash blinded me, and I blinked.

"That's it for tonight," Charlie announced, stuffing the camera between the seat cushions and sitting down to guard it. "You don't want to use the whole roll now."

Edythe pulled away from me smoothly.

Charlie glanced over at us. "You kids don't have to sit and watch this. You can go do something you'll enjoy." He looked pointedly at me, as if I'd been trying to force her to watch sports.

"No, I think I'd better be going home now anyway," said Edythe, smiling wanly. "School in the morning."

Charlie looked surprised. Edythe had come here to wait for me, and I'd only just gotten there. However, he didn't comment.

"All right then," he said with a shrug, though he still looked confused. "Be careful on the way home. Beau can walk you to your car."

"Thank you," she said, dipping her head politely.

I followed, rather than walked, Edythe to her car.

"Will you come back?" I asked in a low voice. However, I already knew the answer.

"Not tonight," she said. No explanation—not that I'd expected one.

I watched the silver car pull away from the curb, and stared after it until it was long out of sight. I stood there for a long time, staring out at the empty road, and I didn't even notice when it began to drizzle, then rain, soaking my hair and dripping down my face. My stupor was only interrupted when I heard the house door creak open behind me.

"Beau?" Charlie called. "What are you doing?"

I shook my head, feeling droplets of water fall from my hair. "Nothing." I turned and walked past him into the house.

I didn't get much rest that night. Instead I tossed and turned as dreams filled with shadowy forms and glittering sunlight that was always just out of reach played at the edges of my consciousness.

When I finally got up, before the sun had broken the horizon, my body ached and my mouth was bone dry. I tried to listen to some of Edythe's music as I slowly got into my clothes, but if anything, that only intensified the low buzz of anxiety at the back of my head, and I turned it off. After I had a bowl of cereal, I decided it was light enough out to continue my photobook project. I got one of my truck, the front of the house, and the forest, which had seemed so dark and eerie when I'd first come to Forks, and now felt more like an old friend.

I stuffed the camera in my school bag, deciding I would focus on my documenting project to distract myself from how uncomfortable things were with Edythe. Time, I kept telling myself. She just needs time. Don't bug her. Let her go at her own pace.

Still, I wondered just how much longer this could last, and how much more I could take before I went crazy. This vague anxiety that something wasn't right, this anticipation that something unpleasant was just around the corner but not sure what it was—it was torture in a way that having definite knowledge of something bad that was going to happen wouldn't be.

I headed to school, and when I got there I found Edythe unchanged, perhaps even cooler and more distant than she had been the previous day.

She was waiting for me in the parking lot as always, but after a mechanical greeting, she was silent as the grave. The quiet weighed on me like a physical force, but I was afraid to break it. At lunch, Edythe still said nothing, so for once I leaned across the invisible line that always separated our side of the table from the others to talk to Jeremy.

"Hey, Jer?"

He glanced my way. "Yeah, man?"

I forced a grin. "Do me a favor, would you? I'm supposed to get some pictures of everybody—for my mom, you know." I rummaged in my school bag, until I found the camera.

"Sure, man," said Jeremy, with a bit of a wicked grin.

Before long they were handing the camera around, each trying to catch the others at awkward moments. Only when McKayla got a hold of it did she make an effort to get some decent shots, though I noticed she seemed keen on catching Jeremy from below the chin, where I was sure his nostrils would be featured prominently. Partway through summer McKayla and Jeremy had broken up, and they were still in that awkward post-relationship phase, sort of friends again, but with a bit of an edge.

When the camera finally made it back to me, all the film was used up.

"Sorry, man," said Jeremy.

I shrugged. "This is good. I already got everything else I wanted anyway."

When school let out, again Edythe walked with me outside, her gaze still focused straight ahead, silent, not even breaking the quiet to ask about my arm.

I had work again that day, and for once I was almost glad of it, just to get away and give Edythe time to herself. I decided there was no point delaying getting the pictures done, considering I had no idea what the near future would bring, so I dropped the roll of film from the camera off at the Thriftway, then picked it up again on the way back home.

When I reached the house, I went upstairs so I could get a look at them. I tore into the envelope at once, then hesitated, almost afraid the very first print wouldn't do her justice. However, my curiosity got the better of me, and I slipped them out.

I was startled as my eyes fell on the first photograph. Far from being a pale imitation, the photo captured Edythe's otherworldly beauty down to the last detail. But what was more than that was her expression. Her eyes twinkled with cheer and warmth that had been wholly absent the past few days.

I went through the stack once, picking out two more of the photos I'd taken. The one of Edythe sitting with the fishing book in the living room while Charlie watched ESPN, and the last one of the two of us standing side by side.

In the first, her eyes were cast down, and she could have been an ice sculpture for all the emotion in her features. The third one was just plain embarrassing to look at. I usually did my best not to think about how mismatched we were, how beautiful, how perfect she was next to clunky, ridiculously ordinary me. But the photo seemed to slap me in the face with it. I focused again on Edythe's expression. Her lips were turned up in a smile, but her eyes were no different than in the other picture. Distant, statue-like.

I ditched out doing my homework, and instead stayed up to put all the photographs into the black book, labeling each accordingly. When I was done, I put the second copy of the photos I'd gotten printed into an envelope, and wrote a letter to my mom to go with them.

When I was done, I turned to take one last look out the window, somehow hoping Edythe would appear there, ready for a nice, long talk. But of course she didn't. More restless and edgy than ever, I picked up Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, where it was still sitting beside my pillow, and flipped through it aimlessly for a minute before I gave up and got up to turn off the light. I laid on my bed in the darkness, staring out the window, my thoughts racing, my anxiety twisting them around in circles until I finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

The next day at school was, again, no different than the previous day. Cold, silence. The few times Edythe looked briefly in my direction, she would frown slightly as she had before, but her eyes never met mine—instead they would study me like she might study an object, without any particular connection or emotion.

I kept telling myself I was letting myself take her silence and general behavior too personally. This was just her way of dealing when she was worried and upset—isolation and shutdown. But even so, it still turned my stomach whenever I glanced at her, and took in her expression. Bored, restless. As though there were somewhere else she'd rather be.

The thing that had instigated all this felt like an eternity ago, and by now I would have given anything to get a minute to see Archie. Archie could be reasonable, and I knew he would help me out any way he could. He would be able to illuminate at least part of what was going through Edythe's mind, and perhaps even give me an idea of what she was planning to do, which would have at least given me an idea of what to expect.

But I knew the chance of his coming back anytime soon was almost nil, so I made up my mind that, if something didn't change, I'd go see Carine tomorrow. I couldn't just sit back and passively let this go on. I had to find out what was going on with Edythe, what our plans were. Of course I would try to talk things out with Edythe first—even if we ended up in a shouting match, I figured it would be better than this—but if she remained cool and unresponsive, then I'd take the case to Carine.

After school, as Edythe walked with me out to my truck as always, I mentally prepared myself for what I was going to say, how to start the conversation. However, oddly, it was Edythe who spoke first.

"Would you mind if I came over today?" she asked politely.

"Sure," I said, too surprised to think of anything else to say.

"Now?" she pressed.

"Yeah...sure," I said, though for some reason I couldn't imagine, I suddenly wanted to say no. There was something in her icy features that suddenly made my stomach tighten with nerves. "I'm just going to drop a letter for my mom in the mailbox on the way, and I'll meet you there."

Edythe extended her hand toward me, palm up. "I'll do it," she said. "And I'll still beat you there." The corners of her mouth turned up in that smile that always put me in a daze, her dimples showing, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"Okay," I said, reaching up into the truck to retrieve the envelope and handing it over. "See you there."

Wordlessly she turned her back on me, returning to her car. I watched her go for a minute, then got into my truck.

Edythe did make it home before I did, and I saw her silver car parked in Charlie's spot. I could only guess that meant she didn't intend to stay long. I shook my head, trying to locate the resolve I'd made that day to talk things out.

Edythe emerged from her car as I pulled up, and she approached the truck.

I opened the door, grabbing my bag and starting to climb out.

She reached across me and put a hand on my bag. "Leave it," she said, voice toneless. She offered me her hand, palm up. "Let's go for a walk."

I didn't take it at first. Instead, I just stared back at her, a fear I couldn't put a name to curling around my chest. Alarms were going off in my head.

However, Edythe reached over and took my hand anyway, and pulled me forward. She took me toward the east side of the yard, toward the forest. I dragged my feet, feeling my sense of foreboding mount.

We'd only gone a few steps along the trail when she came to an abrupt stop. The house was still visible through the trees.

Edythe turned to face me.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself.

"We're leaving," she said shortly.

I'd mentally prepared for that one, but the thought of leaving Charlie was still enough to knock the breath out of me, and I still had to ask. "Why now? Another year wouldn't—"

"Beau, it's time," she said, cutting across me. "We couldn't stay in Forks much longer anyway. Carine is claiming to be thirty-three now—it's already a stretch to make people believe she's past twenty-nine. It's time for us to start over."

I blinked, confused by that answer. In my head, I'd pictured Edythe and I going away together, so that her family could live here in peace. That explanation didn't make sense.

As I stared into her cool eyes, I suddenly froze. All this time, I'd been off base. I'd thought it would be Edythe and I leaving—but Edythe meant she was leaving with her family. Leaving me behind.

When I'd found my voice again, I said quietly, "That's not the reason. You know it's not. Leaving, such short notice like this. One more year wouldn't make a difference." I took a breath, then added, "But if you do have to go now—I'll come with you. I'm ready."

"You can't, Beau," Edythe said evenly. "Where we're going is no place for you."

I shook my head. "I want to be wherever you are, Edythe. I mean—how can you not know that by now?"

"I'm not right for you, Beau."

I was still shaking my head. Trying to shake off her words, before they could reach my mind, and sink in. I could feel the barest beginnings of anger, hovering just on the edge of my mind, but it couldn't seem to make its way in past the hard lumps of fear now congealing there.

"You are right for me," I insisted. "Before—Before I met you, my life was—it was completely hollow. Empty. It wasn't..." I kept shaking my head, as words large enough to describe my feelings escaped me.

"My world is not right for you," she said.

"Look," I said. "What happened with Jessamine—that was nothing, Edythe. Absolutely nothing."

She nodded slowly. "You're right. It was exactly what was to be expected."

I could feel the panic beginning to claw its way up my throat. My voice sounded too high as I said suddenly, my voice choked as I accused, "You swore to me. When we were in Phoenix, you said—"

"—that I would stay, as long as it was best for you," she finished. "I haven't forgotten."

Something finally punched through the block that had been keeping everything inside, and the tightness in my throat was gone. I said suddenly, my voice hard, though still with a tinge of desperation, "This is about my soul, isn't it? Carine told me what you think. It's stupid, of course you have a soul. You couldn't make choices about right and wrong without one. And even if you don't—I made up my mind, okay? I have a choice, and I want to be with you."

Edythe stared back at me for a moment, then her eyes dropped. I saw flickers of emotions I couldn't identify. Her mouth twisted, and she closed her eyes, the delicate skin creasing between her brows. When she opened her eyes again, they were almost apologetic.

She gave a soft laugh, though it was devoid of humor, and her shoulders slumped. "Oh, Beau," she said, and though there was just a touch of the old affection, something in it made my blood freeze. "It's not about that."

She looked up at me, and I could see clearly this time the conflicting emotions in her gold eyes. Guilt most of all—but not the kind of guilt I'd seen in her face when Joss was on my trail or when she'd seen me lying on the ballet room floor, broken and bleeding. Not the anguished or vulnerable look of someone with a personal stake in my future, who wanted—needed forgiveness. Rather she looked at me with the remote, distant eyes of a stranger.

"Beau," she said quietly. "You must understand, this...this just can't work between us. You don't belong in our world, and I don't belong in yours. I'm so tired, Beau. I'm tired of pretending to be a human when I'm not. Constantly tried, constantly fighting my instincts, constantly walking on tiptoes around things made of glass."

I stared at her, not sure how to respond. I felt like every insecurity I'd ever had about our relationship was suddenly coming to the forefront of my mind, striking knives through my chest.

Edythe's eyes were full of remorse. "I know I've said so many irresponsible things over the past several months. Back at the house, with Jessamine—that was a wakeup call. It forced me to stop, and really examine myself for the first time. Myself, and my real motives in all this, that all this time I've been too stubborn to see."

Her lips twisted in a hard, self-reproaching smile. "I never realized teenage infatuation could be so overpowering—so deceptive. I allowed myself to get carried away, imagining such silly things as destiny and eternal love, of love crossing all barriers. But for us, two people from two different worlds, it was never anything more than a passing fantasy. We aren't connected as I fooled myself into believing we were. I don't relate to the things of your world, Beau, and any effort on my part to appear so is no more than an empty facade, a game. And I know you can't relate to mine—I tell you of the danger, the rules, but you don't really understand it, and you can't help me shoulder the burden of living in it. I ought to have seen all that from the start, but instead I indulged a whim, an irresponsible impulse, and I despise myself now for allowing it to get this far."

By the end of this I was bursting to speak, and I blurted before the last word was out, "Then change me. Make me like you. Then none of that will be a problem, right? We'll be a part of the same world. You won't have to slow down for me anymore."

Edythe looked up at me, and at the apology in her distant eyes, I suddenly knew. My brain finally caught up to the vague sense of fear I had been carrying around for the last few days, and I knew what was going to happen. And there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.

"Beau..." she said slowly, gently. "You have to understand. And you must believe me, I am very sorry to have done this, to have made an error of this magnitude. I didn't set out expressly to hurt you. I meant the things I said—or at least, at the time I said them, I sincerely believed them to be true. But...when I stopped to take a close look at myself, I realized I didn't understand my feelings at all. How shallow and baseless they were. You see, Beau, the reason I...first took such an interest in you...to begin with, it was simply a test of my own strength. Because for some inexplicable reason, your blood drew me like no one else's, and I wanted to prove to myself I could fight it, resist it. Then it was because I couldn't read your mind like the others. You were a puzzle to me, a mystery, and your blood was so alluring—How can I say this? It was because you were a human, a fragile human, that you fascinated me so. But—and I despise myself for coming to realize this so late—that's not love. It was never love in the sense that you think of love. You're not a partner I rely on, rather you were something like a pet—an exotic pet from an alien world, even though I fooled myself into thinking it was something else. I enjoyed taking care of you, pampering you, but that was all. If you were to become a vampire, Beau, you would join our world, but you would lose all interest for me."

I stared at her. I couldn't feel my body beneath me, only my head, which was empty, devoid of any meaningful thought. However, when I spoke, my voice was surprisingly steady.

"I see. I guess that makes sense."

Edythe gazed back at me, her glorious features sorrowful, ridden with guilt. "I'm sorry, Beau," she said. "You're a good, kind human, and you deserved better than this. I took you for a ride and jerked you around—so much could have been avoided if only I had shown better judgment. I'm disgusted with myself."

I shook my head, silently protesting her self-recriminations. "Please...you do what you have to do. Don't ever feel bad...as long as it's what's best for you." I vaguely felt my mouth turn up in a smile, but it felt distant, like it was someone else in control of the muscles of my face.

"I'm sorry, Beau," she said again, very softly, and her eyes were distant. "When I realized the truth...it was gone. I couldn't pretend to be who I was before for you anymore."

I nodded, again feeling like I was watching myself from a distance.

She started to turn away, then paused, looking back at me. "One more thing, Beau," she said quietly. "Before I go. Swear something to me."

"Sure," I mumbled, voice hoarse.

Her penitent eyes turned slightly hard. "What you said before," she said. "About how Romeo and Juliet is just a play, and running off to kill yourself is stupid. You were right, the thought was overly romantic, silly. So...even if the way I've treated you does make you feel down for the next while...don't do anything stupid yourself. Remember Charlie, remember your mother."

I nodded distantly. "Yeah...don't worry about me."

"And I will swear something to you in return," she said, with vehemence. "I swear that I will not return here. I will never, Beau, ever do something like this again, to you or anyone else. Return to your normal life, Beau, and live it out the way it should have been, if I hadn't come along and interfered. I promise you, Beau, it will be as though I never existed."

Her smile was gentle, though her eyes were still remote. "Don't worry, Beau," she said softly. "You're human—I think you'll find time heals all wounds for your kind."

"And you?" I asked.

She smiled slightly. "I won't forget. I won't forget the lesson I've learned here. But I'll be fine—too fine in light of what I've done—it will be good for me to get back to my normal way of life. There are plenty of distractions for my kind."

She took a step back. "That's everything, I suppose. Like I said, we won't bother you again."

My mind was too blank, my body too numb, to react to the plural. "Archie isn't coming back," I said dully.

Edythe nodded slowly. "They're all gone. I stayed behind to explain everything. Archie wanted to say goodbye, but I convinced him a clean break was best."

I didn't know what to say. It was all crashing down on me, and my empty head spun. I didn't know how I stayed standing, but I felt like my feet were held to the ground by metal weights.

"Goodbye, Beau," Edythe said softly.

I stared at her beautiful, perfect face, and suddenly the pain broke over me, and I felt my face crumple.

"Wait," I pleaded, my voice hoarse. I stretched out my arms in front of me like a sleepwalker.

She stepped back smoothly, out of my reach. "Take care of yourself, Beau," she breathed.

I closed my eyes against the pain, and felt a cool breeze on my face. When my eyes opened again, she was gone.

I took a step forward, my legs carrying me forward mechanically, like a robot. I didn't know what I was doing, where I was going, but I couldn't do anything else.

In all the romance movies my mom had ever forced me to watch, when a girl left, the guy had to follow and find a way to bring her back. Because no matter what she said, she really wanted him to follow. That was the rule. But even as I scrambled through the forest, on and on, shoving back branches and stepping over logs as the the light in the sky overhead faded, I knew that didn't apply here. Edythe wasn't an ordinary girl, and couldn't be followed like an ordinary girl. I could only ever follow Edythe when she slowed down enough to let me follow, and she was tired of me following her. It was over. All over.

I kept going, not paying attention to where the path was, and I tripped over unseen obstacles more than once. The sky continued to darken as the sun touched the horizon, then dropped behind it, until it faded to pitch black. At last, my foot caught on something and I went down hard. I rolled onto my back, but this time, I didn't bother to get back up. I couldn't see anyway.

Vaguely, I wondered why it was so dark. Were the treetops really able to shut out the moonlight so completely? Or perhaps there was no moon tonight—a lunar eclipse, a new moon.

I shivered.

I'd been there I didn't know how long when I thought I heard voices calling my name. I wasn't entirely sure if I really heard them, or if I was dreaming. I couldn't seem to make my voice work to answer them. However, I slowly forced myself to sit up, feeling the debris of the forest floor clinging to my shirt, and crawled over to sit with my back to a tree. I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the bark. I felt a droplet on my face, and I opened my eyes to see that it had begun to rain.

I suddenly heard something close by. A snuffling sound, interspersed with a kind of heavy breathing. It sounded like a wild animal, big. Maybe a bear, or a mountain lion. Maybe that should have scared me, but I didn't react. Even though the sound was feet away, it felt distant, unimportant.

The animal apparently wasn't hungry, as it slowly turned away, and the sound faded into the forest. I closed my eyes again.

I don't know how long I sat where I was when I again heard a sound, this time the crunch of footsteps over the patter of the rain. I opened my eyes to see a bright light shining nearby.

"Beau?" said a voice.

I lethargically tilted my head up to see who had spoken. The russet face I looked into was vaguely familiar to me somehow, but I couldn't put a name to it.

The figure knelt down before me, deep set, dark eyes gazing at me with concern. "Beau, are you all right? Have you been hurt?"

Somehow, I managed to find a voice. "Who are you?" I rasped.

The figure before me was a woman, tall and lean, with strong arms, hair cropped short in an almost military style. Her eyes seemed to search my face for...for something.

"My name is Samantha Uley, Beau. I'm from the reservation. Your father Charlie was worried something happened. We've been looking for you."

Charlie, my dad. Like a little kid, I suddenly had the overwhelming need to see him.

"Oh," I mumbled.

She stretched out a hand for me to take. "Are you all right, Beau? Can you stand?"

I wasn't sure. I looked up at her vaguely, and her worry only seemed to grow. However, at last, I took her hand, and she pulled me to my feet with surprising strength. I wobbled for a moment, and she caught me, then swiftly put one of my arms over her shoulder to support me.

"No," I mumbled. "No, I'm...okay. I can walk."

However, she ignored me, and turned in one direction of black forest that looked to me to be the same as any other direction, then started forward, half carrying me along beside her.

Maybe it was my warped sense of time, but we seemed to reach the edge of the forest very quickly after that, and before long we had broken the edge of the trees to find a large cluster of people standing nearby.

"I've got him," Samantha called. "He's here. I think he's okay, just a little out of it."

I was immediately surrounded by a large group, all talking at once. Their voices seemed to meld together and didn't make sense. However, one voice called my name that stood out from the others.

"Beau, son, are you all right?"

I turned my eyes vaguely around the crowd, until I found the face I was looking for. "Hey, Charlie," I said, but my voice came out slurred and scratchy, like a dying car engine. Samantha still had one of my arms around her shoulder, and I was leaning heavily against her. I probably looked like a drunkard.

There was a shifting of my weight, and the next thing I knew my support went from a lean but muscular form to a larger form in a heavy jacket. I heard Charlie grunt under my weight, but then shifted me again, and set off, me dragging my feet along beside him.

"We're just going to the house," he muttered. "Hang on, son, hang on—"

He turned sideways as we passed over the threshold, and the next thing I knew I was on the couch in the living room. I knew as I fell into it that I was getting leaves and dirt all over the material, and I considered protesting, but I couldn't seem to get the words out.

"Beau?"

I heard a new voice, and I looked up to see a gray-haired man leaning over me. It took me a minute to remember that I knew his name.

"Dr...Gerandy?" I managed to get out.

He nodded, looking very kind. "That's right, son. Tell me, are you hurt?"

There was something about the question that made me blink sluggishly, frowning in confusion. Hadn't Samantha Uley just asked me that? But she had asked something different. Have you been hurt? she had said.

Dr. Gerandy was waiting for my answer. I forced my brain to work.

"No...I'm okay," I said slowly.

He shone a light in my eyes, and placed a kind of boxy device up near my mouth, then checked the reading. He looked back up at me, then asked gently, "What happened?"

I opened my mouth automatically to respond. But nothing came out. I could feel something at the back of my mind, trying to take over. I didn't want to think. Not about that.

"Did you accidentally stray off the path and lose your way?" he continued.

I noticed then that there were several other people in the room. Several women with dark faces like that of Samantha Uley. From La Push, the Quileute Indian reservation down on the coastline, I guessed. McKayla's father Mr. Newton was there too, along with Mr. Weber, Allen's dad. I heard voices in the kitchen, too. A lot of people had been out looking for me. Normally I probably would have been embarrassed. But I wasn't up for feeling much of anything at the moment.

"Yeah," I muttered. "I...took a wrong turn...couldn't find my way back."

Dr. Gerandy nodded, fingers probing the glands under my jaw gently. "Do you feel tired at all?" he asked.

I nodded, and couldn't even find the strength to speak. I sat where I was, eyes half lidded, only vaguely aware of my surroundings. At some point Charlie and Dr. Gerandy moved away from the couch, speaking in low voices.

"No, you're right, he hasn't been drinking," Gerandy was saying quietly. "As far as I can tell, it's just exhaustion. Let him sleep for now, and I will be back to check on him tomorrow morning—" He checked his watch. "Well, later this morning," he amended.

The two of them were still moving, and were almost out of earshot when Charlie asked, "Is it true? Did they leave?"

"Dr. Cullen asked us not to say anything," Dr. Gerandy answered. "The offer was very sudden, and a decision had to be made quickly. Carine didn't want a big production made of her leaving, as much for her children's sakes as her own."

"I see," said Charlie in a lower voice still.

I didn't try to hear anymore. I didn't need to.

I don't know if I fell asleep. I seemed to drift in and out of awareness, hearing Charlie thanking volunteers and informing everyone who called that I'd been found okay. At last the phone calls died down, and Charlie settled himself in the armchair nearby, finally ready to get some rest.

I turned my eyes to the window, and saw somewhere through the rain that the sky was beginning to lighten. Automatically, I forced myself to sit up, lifting a hand to my head where it ached. In spite of his own probable exhaustion, Charlie was immediately up and at my side.

"Beau?" he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

That was a question I didn't want to answer, and I only shook my head. "How...How did you know where to find me?" I asked.

Charlie looked at me, surprised. "The note you left." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a grubby piece of paper, unfolding it so I could see what was written there.

Gone for a walk with Edythe up the path. Back soon, Beau. It was a fair approximation of my untidy handwriting.

Charlie added gruffly, "That was smart. It's good to let people know where you are, just in case...in case something like this happens."

The room was silent for a long moment, Charlie standing awkwardly beside the couch, me staring at nothing. At last he asked in a low voice, "What happened, Beau? With Edythe."

The sound of the name spoken aloud made me flinch, and suddenly something that had been only a dull, distant throb suddenly exploded in my chest. My eyes dropped to the floor.

"When you didn't come back," Charlie continued, "I called the Cullens. No one answered, so I called the hospital next, to see if I could get a hold of Carine. That was when Dr. Gerandy told me they were gone. Apparently Carine got a good offer at a big hospital in Los Angeles. She'll really be able to use her talents there, only it's a shame it had to be such short notice. But I suppose Edythe told you that."

I felt another sharp stab in my chest at the name, and closed my eyes. Sunny L.A.—The last place they would really go. "No..." I mumbled. "No, I didn't know."

I felt Charlie grip my shoulder again, more tightly this time. "What did she say?" he asked, and his voice was more gentle than I'd ever heard it.

I couldn't answer. Somehow, at the kindness in his tone the burning in my chest only seemed to intensify. Not looking at him, I got up from the couch, moving so quickly I felt my head spin, and Charlie reached out an arm to steady me.

My throat was tight, my eyes burning, and I pushed blindly past him and lurched my way up the stairs, half running, half tripping as I went. I turned into my room and, as soon as I was there, locked it behind me.

I stood there for a moment, leaning back against the wood, concentrating on breathing deeply and evenly, my eyes closed.

Words she had spoken played back through my mind.

"It will be as though I never existed..."

I remembered the note left for Charlie, that someone must have been in the house to leave it. And I knew.

I went to the CD player, where I'd left the silver disc with all her compositions. It was empty. I picked up the black photobook where I had left it on the desk. As I drew back the black cover, I found the photos I'd placed there and labeled were gone, as though they had never been there. There was no point looking for anything else—I knew it was all gone.

I staggered back a step, and the backs of my legs hit the side of the bed. I sank down onto the mattress, my head bowing toward my hands, clenched together. My eyes drifted briefly to the well-worn copy of Twenty Leagues Under the Sea, still sitting on my bed where I'd left it the last couple nights as I'd tried to distract myself—distract myself from what then I had not yet known to fear.

Numbly, without thinking, I reached out for it, and took it in my hands. The worn binding fell open automatically to the last passage I had read.

My strength was exhausted. My fingers stiffened, my hand afforded me support no longer—my mouth, convulsively opening, filled with salt water.

I stared at the words. Something was clawing at my throat, burning in my eyes. My mouth opened, but no sound escaped me. I couldn't feel the fingers attached to my hand, and the book slipped through them, falling to the floor with a thud. But I didn't hear it in the all-consuming silence that encased me. I only heard the gasping, as my mouth opened, but my lungs took in no air. The words from the book continued in my mind. Not in the comforting, familiar way they had a thousand times before, but as a death sentence.

Cold crept over me. I raised my head for the last time, then I sank.