Chapter 2: party
I was ninety-nine point nine percent sure I was dreaming.
The reasons I was so certain were that, first, I was standing in a bright shaft of sunlight—the kind of blinding clear sun that never shone on my drizzly new hometown in Forks, Washington—and second, I was looking at my Grandpa Michael. Gramps had been dead for six years, so that was solid evidence toward the dream theory.
Gramps hadn't changed much; his face looked just the same as I remembered it. The skin was soft and withered, bent into a thousand tiny creases that clung gently to the bone underneath. Like a dried apricot, but with a mess of thick white hair hanging from it.
Our mouths—his a wizened pucker—spread into the same surprised half-smile at just the same time. Apparently, he hadn't been expecting to see me, either.
I was about to ask him a question; I had so many—what was he doing here in my dream? What had he been up to in the past six years? Was Gran okay, and had they found each other, wherever they were? — but he opened his mouth when I did, so I stopped to let him go first. He paused, too, and then we both smiled at the little awkwardness.
"Beau?"
It wasn't Gramps who called my name, and we both turned to see the addition to our small reunion. I didn't have to look to know who it was; this was a voice I knew as well as my own and I would always respond to, whether I was awake or asleep. The voice I had walked through fire for—and, less dramatically, now sloshed through the cold and endless rain for.
Edward.
Even though I was always thrilled to see him—conscious or otherwise—and even though I was almost positive that I was dreaming, I panicked as Edward walked toward us through the glaring sunlight.
I panicked because Gramps didn't know that I was in love with a vampire—nobody knew that—so how was I supposed to explain the fact that the brilliant sunbeams were shattering off his skin into a thousand fiery shards like he was made of crystal or diamond?
Well, Gramps, you might have noticed that my boyfriend glitters. It's just something that he does in the sun. Don't worry about it. Also, I have a boyfriend….
What was he doing? The whole reason he lived in Forks, the rainiest place in the world, was so that he could be outside in the daytime without exposing his family's secret. Yet here he was, strolling gracefully toward me—with the most beautiful smile on his handsome face—as if I were the only on here.
In that second, I wished I was not the only exception to his mysterious talent; I usually felt grateful that I was the only person whose thoughts he couldn't hear just as clearly as if they were spoken aloud. But now I wished he could hear me, too, so that he could hear the warning I was screaming in my head.
I shot a panicked glance back at Gramps, and saw that it was too late. He was just turning to stare back at me, his eyes as alarmed as mine.
Edward—still smiling so beautifully that my heart felt like it was going to swell up and burst through my chest—put his arm around my shoulder and turned to face my grandfather.
Gramps's expression surprised me. Instead of looking horrified, he was staring at me sheepishly, as if waiting for a scolding. And he was standing in such a strange position—one arm held awkwardly away from his body, stretched out and then curled around the air. Like he had his arm around someone I couldn't see, someone invisible…
Only then, as I looked at the bigger picture, did I notice the huge gilt frame that enclosed my grandfather's form. Uncomprehending, I raised the hand that wasn't wrapped around Edward's waist and reached out to touch him. Gramps mimicked my movement exactly, mirrored it. But where our fingers should have met, there was nothing but cold glass…
With a dizzying jolt, my dream abruptly became a nightmare.
There was no Gramps.
That was me. Me in a mirror. Me—old, creased, and withered.
Edward stood beside me, casting no reflection, excruciatingly lovely and forever seventeen.
He pressed his icy, perfect lips against my wasted cheek.
"Happy birthday, Beau," he whispered.
I woke with a start—my eyelids popping open wide—and gasped. Dull gray light, the familiar light of an overcast morning, took the place of the blinding sun in my dream.
Just a dream, I told myself. It was only a dream. I took a deep breath and then jumped again when my alarm went off. The little calendar in the corner of the clock's display informed me that today was September thirteenth.
Only a dream, but prophetic enough in one way, at least. Today was my birthday. I was officially eighteen years old.
I hadn't exactly been looking forward to today.
All through the summer—one of the happiest summers I had ever had, and the rainiest summer in the history of the Olympic Peninsula—this date had lurked in ambush, waiting to spring.
And now that it had hit, it was exactly what I had feared it would be. I was older—every day I got older, but this was different. I was eighteen.
And Edward would never be.
It was an uncomfortable feeling. Something I had never thought of until the start of summer. It was a thought that had made me uniquely uncomfortable the more I thought of it. I was eighteen, I was older. Granted, eighteen wasn't that much older, but it was still strange to think about.
I was surprised by a sudden knock on my door.
"Beau? You awake?" Charlie's voice came from the other side.
"Yeah, Dad," I yawned, "Come in."
He opened the door awkwardly, juggling two poorly-wrapped packages in his arm. "Happy Birthday," he half sung the words.
My dad, Charlie, had been practically giddy at the prospect of my birthday. He had been on the old kitchen phone with Renee almost every day in the past week, speaking in hushed tones.
"Dad, you didn't spend any money on me, did you?"
"Oh hush up," He feigned annoyance, "It's your first birthday here. Let your old man celebrate."
He set the packages on my bed, grinning widely. I looked up at him with anxious eyes.
"Well, open them up!" He prompted, gesturing to the packages.
I tentatively reached for the smaller package—a thick rectangle—and opened it up slowly.
"A phone?" I couldn't conceal the surprise on my face, "Dad, how much did you spend on this?"
"This was your mother's idea," he held his hands up defensively, "she thinks we all need more open communication or something like that." He shrugged, pulling a phone of his own out of his back pocket. "Hopefully you like it. Your mom picked everything out—she just told me what to buy." He noticed me eyeing it. "It's all set-up. You can start using it right away."
"Dad, thank you." I admired the smooth, square phone. I pressed the button on the front and the screen came to life instantly. "There can't be any more presents, though."
"Just one more from me," he handed me the larger package—it was heavy.
"Dad, what is this?" I tore off the paper and my jaw dropped. "A laptop? Dad, this is too much. This better be some sort of fake-out."
"Nope!" He laughed, "I told you, Beau, it's your first birthday with me. I have seventeen years of catching up to do. Besides, you're going to be looking at colleges soon and don't kids need a laptop for college?"
"Dad, this is too much." I tried to scold, but I couldn't contain my grin. "I'm paying you back for some of this."
"Not a chance," He laughed. "Oh, before I forget." He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me, "Here's the wee-fee password."
"Wi-Fi, Dad," I laughed, "when did you have Wi-Fi installed? Why?"
"Happy Birthday, Beau." He laughed, ruffling my hair. "I got to get going, I'll see you tonight." He headed out my bedroom door, waving back at me. "The phone has a nice camera on it; don't forget to take pictures to put in the scrapbook your mother sent you."
"This is excessive and we can't afford it but thank you!" I shouted jokingly.
I admired the new phone, playing with the features, when it buzzed and made a trilling noise, startling me. It was a text message.
I hope you're enjoying your new phone! –Alice
I smiled. Of course, Edward's adopted sister, Alice, would not only know I had gotten a new phone for my birthday, but also already know my number thanks to her own unique talent. The phone buzzed again.
You're going to be late! – Alice
I glanced at the little clock at the top of the phone screen and practically threw myself out of bed. I showered and got dressed in record time. When I went to brush my teeth, I examined my face with trepidation. I didn't look any older, but that anxious fear crept back into my head. I was older and I couldn't understand why it bothered me so much.
I skipped breakfast, in a hurry to get out of the house as quickly as possible.
As I drove to school, the vision of Gramps—of me—was hard to get out of my head. I couldn't shake that unhappy feeling until I pulled into the familiar lot behind Forks High School and spotted Edward leaning motionlessly against his polished silver Volvo, like a marble statue of Adonis. My dream had whetted my appetite for the real thing, and here he was—waiting for me, just the same as every other day.
My anxiety vanished; that now familiar feeling of desire took its place. Even after a year with him, I still couldn't contain my emotions when I saw him.
His sister Alice was standing by his side, waiting for me, too.
Of course Edward and Alice weren't really related—in Forks the story was that all the Cullen siblings were adopted by Dr. Carlisle Cullen and his wife, Esme, both plainly too young to have teenage children—but their skin was precisely the same pale shade, their eyes had the same strange golden tint, with the same deep, bruise-like shadows beneath them. Her face, like his, was also startlingly beautiful. To someone in the know—someone like me—these similarities marked them for what they were.
The sight of Alice waiting there—her tawny eyes brilliant with excitement, and a small silver-wrapped square in her hands—made me frown in embarrassment. I'd told Alice, like I had told Charlie, not to spend any money on me. Obviously, also like Charlie, she chose to ignore my wishes.
I slammed the door of my '53 Chevy truck in a show of protest—a shower of rust specks fluttered down to the wet blacktop—and walked slowly toward where they waited. Alice skipped forward to meet me, her pixie face glowing under her short black hair.
"Happy birthday, Beau!"
"Shh!" I hissed, glancing around the lot to make sure no one had heard her. The last thing I wanted was for anyone else to make a big deal of my birthday. I didn't like people making a big deal over me.
She ignored me. "Do you want to open your present now or later?" she asked eagerly as we made our way to where Edward still waited.
"Alice, I told you not to get me any presents," I protested gently.
She only smiled at me. "Okay… later, then. Did you like the scrapbook your mom sent you? And the phone from Charlie?"
I sighed. Of course she would know what my birthday presents were. Alice would have "seen" what my parents were planning as soon as they'd decided themselves.
"Yeah, they're great."
"I think it's a nice idea. You're only a senior once. Might as well document the experience."
"How many times have you been a senior?"
"That's different."
We reached Edward then, and he held out his hand for mine. I took it eagerly, grinning. His skin was, as always, smooth, hard, and very cold. He gave my fingers a gentle squeeze. I looked into his liquid topaz eyes, and my heart gave a not-quite-so-gentle squeeze of its own. Hearing the stutter in my heartbeats, he smiled again.
He lifted his free hand and traced one cool fingertip around the outside of my lips as he spoke. "So, as discussed, I am not allowed to wish you a happy birthday, is that correct?"
"Yes. That is correct." I could never quite mimic the flow of his perfect, formal articulation. It was something that could only be picked up in an earlier century.
"Just checking." He ran his hand through his tousled bronze hair. "You might have changed your mind. Most people seem to enjoy things like birthdays and gifts."
Alice laughed, and the sound was all silver, a wind chime. "Of course you'll enjoy it. Everyone is supposed to be nice to you today and give you your way, Beau. What's the worst that could happen?" She meant it as a rhetorical question.
"Getting older," I answered anyway, I had meant it to sound like a joke but my voice wavered sadly.
Beside me, Edward's smile tightened into a hard line.
"Eighteen isn't very old," Alice said. "Don't people usually wait till they're much older to get upset over birthdays?"
"It's older than Edward," I pointed out.
He sighed.
"Technically," she said, keeping her tone light. "Just by one little year, though."
And I supposed it was just one little year and a year or two one direction or the other wouldn't matter to me so much. I would be happy to get to spend forever with Edward, and Alice and the rest of the Cullens but preferably not as a wrinkled little old man… There was an alternative but it was something Edward was dead set against, and even I wasn't sure if I wanted it.
An impasse, I suppose.
It was a position I had put myself in. I couldn't understand Edward's reluctance but I had my own trepidation regarding any prospect that made me immortal. I would have to give up so much—my friends, my family, my mortality. On the other hand, being a vampire didn't look so bad—not the way the Cullens did it, anyway.
"What time will you be at the house?" Alice continued, changing the subject. From her expression, she was up to exactly the kind of thing I'd been hoping to avoid.
"I didn't know I had plans to be there."
"Oh, be fair, Beau!" she complained. "You aren't going to ruin all our fun like that, are you?"
"I thought my birthday was about what I want?"
"I'll get him from Charlie's right after school," Edward told her, ignoring me altogether.
"Excuse you," I glared, "I have to work."
"You don't, actually," Alice told me smugly. "I already spoke to Mrs. Newton about it. She's trading your shifts. She said to tell you 'Happy Birthday.'"
"I—I still can't come over," I stammered, scrambling for an excuse. "I, well, I haven't watched Romeo and Juliet yet for English."
Alice snorted. "You have Romeo and Juliet memorized."
"But Mr. Berty said we needed to see it performed to fully appreciate it—that's how Shakespeare intended it to be presented."
Edward rolled his eyes, concealing a grin.
"You've already seen the movie," Alice accused.
"But not the nineteen-sixties version. Mr. Berty said it was the best."
Finally, Alice lost the smug smile and glared at me. "This can be easy, or this can be hard, Beau, but one way or the other—"
Edward interrupted her threat. "Relax, Alice. If Beau wants to watch a movie, then he can. It's his birthday."
"So there," I added.
"I'll bring him over around seven," he continued. "That will give you more time to set up."
Alice's laughter chimed in again. "Sounds good. See you tonight, Beau! It'll be fun, you'll see." She grinned—the wide smile exposed all her perfect, glistening teeth—then pecked me on the cheek and danced off toward her first class before I could respond.
"Edward, I don't appreciate this." I glared. He ran his cool finger along my jaw.
"Can we discuss it later? We're going to be late for class."
No one bothered to stare at us as we took our usual seats in the back of the classroom. We had almost every class together now—it was amazing the favors Edward could get the administrators to do for him. Edward and I had been together too long now to be an object of gossip anymore. Even Mike Newton didn't bother to give me the glum stare that used to make me feel a little guilty. He smiled now instead, and I was glad he seemed to have accepted that we could only be friends. Mike had changed over the summer—his face had lost some of the roundness, making his cheekbones more prominent, and he was wearing his pale blond hair a new way; instead of perfectly flat-ironed, it was styled back into a carefully casual disarray. It was easy to see where his inspiration came from—but Edward's look was still uniquely his.
As the day progressed, I considered ways to get out of whatever was going down at the Cullen house tonight. I was already in an off mood today which was sure to dampen the mood. But, worse than that, this was sure to involve attention and gifts.
Attention isn't a bad thing, really, but too much of it made me feel anxious. I never liked when everything was about me and I tended to get awkward and clumsy in those kinds of situations.
And I had begged everyone not to get me any presents—I didn't need anything. It looked like Charlie and my mom weren't the only ones who had decided to overlook that.
I'd never had much money, and that had never bothered me. My mom had raised me on a kindergarten teacher's salary. Charlie wasn't getting rich at his job, either—he was the police chief here in the tiny town of Forks. My only personal income came from the three days a week I worked at the local sporting goods store. In a town this small, I was lucky to have a job. Every penny I made went into my microscopic college fund.
Edward had a lot of money—I didn't even want to think about how much. Money meant next to nothing to Edward or the rest of the Cullens. It was just something that accumulated when you had unlimited time on your hands and a sister who had an uncanny ability to predict trends in the stock market.
Edward didn't seem to understand why I objected to him spending money on me—why it made me uncomfortable if he took me to an expensive restaurant in Seattle, why he wasn't allowed to buy me a car that could reach speeds over fifty-five miles an hour, or why I wouldn't let him pay my college tuition. Edward thought I was being unnecessarily difficult. I pointed out that lavishing me with insanely expensive gifts wasn't something a human teenager did for his boyfriend.
As the day went on, neither Edward nor Alice brought my birthday up again, and I began to relax a little.
We sat at our usual table for lunch.
A strange kind of truce existed at that table. The three of us—Edward, Alice, and I—sat on the southern end of the table. Now that the "older" and somewhat more intimidating Cullen siblings had graduated, Alice and Edward didn't seem quite as imposing, and we didn't sit alone. My other friends, Mike and Jessica—who were in the awkward post-breakup friendship phase, Angela and Ben—whose relationship had survived the summer, Erica, Conner, Tyler, Lauren and her brother Logan—though he didn't really count in the friend category—all sat at the same table, on the other side of an invisible line. That line dissolved on sunny days when Edward and Alice always skipped school, and then the conversation would swell out effortlessly to include me.
Edward and Alice didn't find this minor ostracism odd or hurtful the way anyone else would have. They barely noticed it. People always felt strangely ill at ease with the Cullens, almost afraid for some reason they couldn't explain to themselves. I was a rare exception to that rule. Sometimes it bothered Edward how very comfortable I was with being close to him. He thought he was hazardous to my health—an opinion I vehemently disagreed with whenever he voiced it.
The afternoon passed quickly. School ended, and Edward walked me to my truck as he usually did. But this time, he held the passenger door open for me. Alice must have been taking his car home so that he could keep me from making a run for it.
I folded my arms and made no move to get out of the rain. "It's my birthday, don't I get to drive?"
"I'm pretending it's not your birthday, just as you wished."
"If it's not my birthday, then I don't have to go to your house tonight." I countered.
"All right." He shut the passenger door and walked past me to open the driver's side. "Happy birthday."
"Oh my god," I threw my hands in the air and climbed in the opened door, wishing he'd taken the other offer.
Edward played with the radio while I drove, shaking his head in disapproval.
"Your radio has horrible reception."
I frowned. I didn't like it when he picked on my truck. The truck was great—it had personality.
"You want a nice stereo? Drive your own car." I was so nervous about Alice's plans, on top of my already off mood, that the words came out sharper than I'd meant them. I was hardly ever bad-tempered with Edward, and my tone made him press his lips together to keep from smiling.
When I parked in front of Charlie's house, he reached over and moved my face to his. He handled me very carefully like I was especially breakable. Which was exactly the case—compared with him, at least.
"You should be in a good mood, today of all days," he whispered. His sweet breath fanned across my face.
"I'm not in a bad mood, I just don't like people making a fuss over me." I shrugged.
His golden eyes smoldered. "Too bad."
My heart started racing as he leaned closer and pressed his icy lips against mine. As he had no doubt hoped I forgot all about my worries, and sighed happily.
His mouth lingered on mine, cold and smooth and gentle, until I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into me with enthusiasm. I could feel his lips curve upward as his hands ran through my hair. I moved my hands to his chest and gently pushed him away, exhaling sharply.
Edward and I had drawn many careful lines for our physical relationship, with the intent being to keep me alive. We needed to maintain a safe distance between my skin and his razor-sharp, venom-coated teeth, though sometimes we both tended to forget about trivial things like that once we started kissing.
"Easy, tiger," I smirked, feeling his strong chest under my hands. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest.
"And I was going to tell you to be good," he breathed against my cheek. He pressed his lips gently to mine one more time and then pulled away hesitantly.
"I think we're getting better at this." I smiled. "At least one of us remembers to take it easy." I sighed, "Maybe my heart might someday stop trying to jump out of my chest whenever you touch me."
"I really hope not," he said, a bit smug.
I rolled my eyes. "Let's go watch the Capulets and Montagues hack each other up, all right?"
"Yes, sir."
Edward sprawled across the couch while I started the movie, fast-forwarding through the opening credits. When I perched on the edge of the sofa in front of him, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against his chest. It wasn't exactly as comfortable as a sofa cushion would be, what with his chest being hard and cold—and perfect—as an ice sculpture, but it was definitely preferable. He had a very nice chest. He pulled the old afghan off the back of the couch and draped it over me so I wouldn't freeze beside his body.
"You know, I've never had much patience with Romeo," he commented as the movie started.
"What's wrong with Romeo?" I asked, a little offended. Romeo was one of my favorite fictional characters. I'd definitely had a bit of a crush on him when I was younger.
"Well, first of all, he's in love with this Rosaline—don't you think it makes him seem a little fickle? And then, a few minutes after their wedding, he kills Juliet's cousin. That's not very brilliant. Mistake after mistake. Could he have destroyed his own happiness any more thoroughly?"
I sighed. "Do you want me to watch this alone?"
"No, I'll mostly be watching you, anyway." His fingers traced patterns across the skin of my arm, raising good bumps. "Will you cry?"
"Probably," I admitted, "if someone lets me pay attention to the movie."
"I won't distract you then." But I felt his lips on my hair, and it was very distracting.
The movie eventually captured my interest, thanks in large part to Edward whispering Romeo's lines in my ear—his irresistible, velvet voice made the actor's voice sound weak and coarse by comparison. And I did cry, to his amusement, when Juliet woke and found her new husband dead.
"I'll admit, I do sort of envy him here," Edward said, wiping the tears from my face.
"Because she's… pretty?"
He made a disgusted sound. "I don't envy him the girl—just the ease of the suicide," he clarified in a teasing tone. "You humans have it so easy! All you have to do is throw down one tiny vial of plan extracts…"
"What?" I gasped.
"It's something I had to think about once, and I knew from Carlisle's experience that it wouldn't be simple. I'm not even sure how many ways Carlisle tried to kill himself in the beginning… after he realized what he'd become…" His voice, which had grown serious, turned light again. "And he's clearly still in excellent health."
I twisted around so that I could read his face. "What are you talking about?" I demanded. "What do you mean, this is something you had to think about once?"
"Last spring, when you were… nearly killed…" He paused to take a deep breath, struggling to return to his teasing tone. "Of course I was trying to focus on finding you alive, but part of my mind was making contingency plans. Like I said, it's not as easy for me as it is for a human."
For one second, the memory of my last trip to Phoenix washed through my head and made me feel dizzy. I could see it all so clearly—the blinding sun, the heat waves coming off the concrete as I ran with desperate haste to find the sadistic vampire who wanted to torture me to death. James, waiting in the mirrored room with my mother as his hostage—or so I'd thought. I hadn't known it was all a ruse. Just as James hadn't known that Edward was racing to save me; Edward made it in time, but it had been a close one. Unthinkingly, my fingers traced the crescent-shaped scar on my hand that was always just a few degrees cooler than the rest of my skin.
I shook my head—as if I could shake away the bad memories—and tried to grasp what Edward meant. My stomach plunged uncomfortably. "Contingency plans?" I repeated.
"Well, I wasn't going to live without you." He rolled his eyes as if that fact were childishly obvious. "But I wasn't sure how to do it—I knew Emmett and Jasper would never help… so I was thinking maybe I would go to Italy and do something to provoke the Volturi."
I didn't want to believe he was serious, but his golden eyes were brooding, focused on something far away in the distance as he contemplated ways to end his own life.
"First of all, that's not healthy." I scolded. "Second, what's a Volturi?"
"The Volturi are a family," he explained, his eyes still remote. "A very old, very powerful family of our kind. They are the closest thing our world has to a royal family, I suppose. Carlisle lived with them briefly in his early years, in Italy, before he settled in America—do you remember the story?"
"Of course I remember."
I would never forget the first time I'd gone to his home, the huge white mansion buried deep in the forest beside the river, or the room where Carlisle—Edward's father in so many real ways—kept a wall of paintings that illustrated his personal history. The most vivid, most wildly colorful canvas there, the largest, was from Carlisle's time in Italy. Of course I remembered the calm quartet of men, each with the exquisite face of a seraph, painted into the highest balcony overlooking the swirling mayhem of color. Though the painting was centuries old, Carlisle—the blonde angel—remained unchanged. And I remembered the three others, Carlisle's early acquaintances. Edward had never used the name Volturi for the beautiful trio, two black-haired, one snow white. He'd called them Aro, Caius, and Marcus, nighttime patrons of the arts…
"Anyway, you don't irritate the Volturi," Edward went on, interrupting my reverie. "Not unless you want to die—or whatever it is we do." His voice was so calm, it made him sound almost bored by the prospect.
I felt the horror overtake me. I took his marble face between my hands and held it very tightly.
"You can't say things like that. You can't think of anything like that again." I said firmly. "No matter what might ever happen to me, you are not allowed to hurt yourself."
"I'll never put you in danger again, so it's a moot point."
"Put me in danger? I was under the impression that you thought that all the bad luck was my fault?" I was getting more upset. "You can't think like that, Edward."
"What would you do, if the situation were reversed?" he asked.
"I wouldn't do that."
He averted his eyes.
"What if something did happen to you?" The thought hurt me. "Would you want me to go off myself?"
A trace of pain touched his perfect features.
"I guess I see your point… a little," he admitted. "But what would I do without you?"
"Whatever you were doing before I came along, I suppose. You managed for quite a while without me."
He sighed. "You make that sound so easy."
"It should be. I'm not really that interesting." I chuckled.
He was about to argue, but then he let it go. "Moot point," he reminded me. Abruptly, he pulled himself up into a more formal posture, shifting me to the side so that we were no longer touching.
"Charlie?" I guessed.
Edward smiled. After a moment, I heard the sound of the police cruiser pulling into the driveway. I reached out and took his hand firmly. My dad could deal with that much.
Charlie came in with a pizza box in his hands.
"Hey, kids." He grinned at me. "I thought you'd like a break from cooking and washing dishes from your birthday. Hungry?"
"Thanks, Dad!" I smiled.
Charlie didn't comment on Edward's apparent lack of appetite. He was used to Edward passing on dinner.
"Do you mind if I borrow Beau for the evening?" Edward asked when Charlie and I were done.
I looked up at Charlie, kind of hoping he'd want me to stay home. He had said it himself this morning; this was my first birthday with him, the first birthday since my mom had remarried and gone to live in Florida, so I didn't know if he'd made plans for our evening.
"That's fine—I gave Beau his presents this morning. Besides, the Mariners are playing the Sox tonight," Charlie explained, "So I won't be any kind of company… If they're doing something fun at the Cullens' tonight, Beau, you should take some pictures on your new phone. You know how your mother gets—she'll be wanting to see the pictures faster than you can take them."
"Good idea, Charlie," Edward said, pulling my phone out of my pocket.
I grabbed it from him and opened the camera feature, turning it on Edward, and snapping the first picture. "It works."
"That's good. Hey, say hi to Alice for me. She hasn't been over in a while." Charlie's mouth pulled down at one corner.
"It's been three days, Dad," I reminded him. Charlie was crazy about Alice. He'd become attached last spring when she'd helped me through my awkward recovery process. "I'll tell her."
"Okay. You kids have fun tonight." Charlie was already edging toward the living room and the TV.
Edward smiled, triumphant, and took my hand to pull me from the kitchen.
When we got to the truck, he opened the passenger door for me again, and this time I didn't argue. I still had a hard time finding the obscure turnoff to his house in the dark.
Edward drove north through Forks, visibly chafing at the speed limit enforced by my prehistoric Chevy. The engine groaned even louder than usual as he pushed it over fifty.
"Take it easy," I warned him.
"You know what you would love? A nice little Audi coupe. Very quiet, lots of power…"
"There's nothing wrong with my truck. And speaking of nonessentials, I hope you didn't spend any money on birthday presents."
"Not a dime," he said virtuously.
"Good."
"Beau…"
"Yes?"
He sighed, his lovely face serious. "Beau, the last real birthday any of us had was Emmett in 1935. Cut us a little slack, and don't be too upset about the party. They're all very excited."
It always startled me a little when he brought up things like that. "I'll behave, don't worry."
"I should probably warn you…"
"Birthday warnings are always so great." I deadpanned.
He snorted. "When I say they're all excited… I do mean all of them."
"Everyone?" I wavered. "I thought Emmett and Royal were in Africa." The rest of Forks was under the impression that the older Cullens had gone off to college this year, to Dartmouth, but I knew better.
"Emmett wanted to be here."
"That's sweet of him… but Royal?"
"I know, Beau. Don't worry, he'll be on his best behavior."
I didn't answer. Like I could just not worry, that easy. Unlike Alice, Edward's other "adopted" sibling, the golden blond and exquisite Royal didn't like me much. Actually, the feeling was a little stronger than just dislike. As far as Royal was concerned, I was an unwelcome intruder into his family's secret life.
I felt horribly guilty about the present situation, guessing that Royal and Emmett's prolonged absence was my fault, even as I furtively appreciated not having to see him. Emmett, Edward's playful bear of a brother, I did miss. He was in many ways just like the big brother I'd always wanted… only much, much more terrifying.
Edward decided to change the subject. "So, if you won't let me get you the Audi, isn't there anything that you'd like for your birthday?"
The words came out in a suggestive whisper. "Well, if you're offering anything."
I heard him catch his breath and his grip tightened on the steering wheel.
"Beau, be good. Please." He breathed the words out.
"Well, maybe Emmett will give me what I want." I teased.
Edward growled—a deep, menacing sound. "Over my dead body."
"Oh, calm down." I laughed.
We were pulling up to the house now. Bright light shined from every window on the first two floors. A long line of glowing Japanese lanterns hung from the porch eaves, reflecting a soft radiance on the huge cedars that surrounded the house. Big bowls of flowers—ruffled tulips—lined the wide stairs up to the front doors.
I caught my breath, feeling a surprising excitement creep over me.
Edward took a few deep breaths to calm himself—from my suggestiveness or the jab about Emmett I wasn't sure. "This is a party," he sighed. "Try to be a good sport."
"Always am." I smirked.
He came around to get my door, and offered me his hand.
"I have a question."
He waited warily.
"If I look at the photo I took," I said, pulling my phone from my pocket, "will you show up in the picture?"
Edward started laughing. He helped me out of the car, pulled me up the stairs, and was still laughing as he opened the door for me.
They were all waiting in the huge white living room; when I walked through the door, they greeted me with a loud chorus of "Happy birthday, Beau!" while I blushed and smiled. Alice, I assumed, had covered every flat surface with white candles and dozens of crystal bowls filled with hundreds of ruffled tulips. There was a table with a white cloth draped over it next to Edward's grand piano, holding a red birthday cake, more tulips, a stack of glass plate, and a small pile of silver-wrapped presents.
It was absolutely beautiful.
Edward, sensing my mounting excitement, wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed the top of my head.
Edward's parents, Carlisle and Esme—impossibly youthful and lovely as ever—were the closest to the door. Esme hugged me carefully, her soft, caramel-colored hair brushing against my cheek as she kissed my forehead, and then Carlisle put his arm around my shoulders.
"Sorry about this, Beau," he stage-whispered. "We couldn't rein Alice in."
Royal and Emmet stood behind them. Royal didn't smile, but at least he didn't glare. Emmett's face stretched into a huge grin. It had been months since I'd seen them; I'd forgotten how gloriously beautiful Royal was—it almost hurt to look at him. And I had almost forgotten how big Emmett was.
"You haven't changed at all," Emmett said with mock disappointment, pulling me into a gentle bear-hug. "I expected a perceptible difference, but here you are, red-faced just like always."
"Thanks a lot, Emmett," I said, blushing deeper.
He laughed, "I have to step out for a second"—he paused to wink conspicuously at Alice—"Don't do anything funny while I'm gone."
"I'll do my best."
Alice let go of Jasper's hand and skipped forward, all her teeth sparkling in the bright light. Jasper smiled, too, but kept his distance. He leaned, long and blond, against the post at the foot of the stairs. During the days we'd had to spend cooped up together in Phoenix, I'd thought he'd gotten over his aversion to me. But he'd gone back to exactly how he'd acted before—avoiding me as much as possible—the moment he was free from that temporary obligation to protect me. I knew it wasn't personal, just a precaution, and I tried not to be overly sensitive about it. Jasper had more trouble sticking to the Cullens' diet than the rest of them; the scent of human blood was much harder for him to resist than the others—he hadn't been trying as long.
"Time to open presents," Alice declared. She put her cool hand under my elbow and towed me to the table with the cake and the shiny packages.
"Alice," I sighed, smiling, "I told you I didn't want anything—"
"But I didn't listen," she interrupted, smug. "Open it." She took my phone from my hands and replaced it with a big, square silver box.
The box was so light that if felt empty. The tag on top said that it was from Emmett, Royal, and Jasper. Trying not to look too excited, I tore the paper off and then stared at the box it concealed.
It was something electrical, with lots of numbers in the name. I opened the box, hoping for further illumination. But the box was empty.
"Um… thanks."
Royal actually cracked a smile. Jasper laughed. "It's a stereo for your truck," he explained. "Emmett's installing it right now so that you can't return it."
"Thank you, Jasper, Royal," I told them, grinning as I remembered Edward's complaints about my radio this afternoon—all a setup, apparently. "Thanks, Emmett!" I called more loudly.
I heard his booming laugh from my truck, and I couldn't help laughing, too.
"Open mine and Edward's next," Alice said, so excited her voice was a high-pitched trill. She held a small, flat square in her hand.
I turned to glare at Edward. "You promised."
Before he could answer, Emmett bounded through the door. "Just in time!" he crowed. He pushed in behind Jasper, who had also drifted closer than usual to get a good look.
"I didn't spend a dime," Edward assured me. He ran his hand through my hair, smiling gently.
I narrowed my eyes at him, before turning to Alice. "Alright, let's see it," I sighed.
Emmett chuckled with delight.
I took the little package, trying to conceal my smile as I stuck my finger under the edge of the paper and jerked it under the tape.
"Shoot," I muttered when the paper sliced my finger; I pulled it out to examine the damage. A single drop of blood oozed from the tiny cut.
It all happened very quickly then.
"No!" Edward roared.
He threw himself at me, flinging me back across the table. It fell, as I did, scattering the cake and the presents, the flowers and the plates. I landed in the mess of shattered crystal.
Jasper slammed into Edward, and the sound was like the crash of boulders in a rock slide.
There was another noise, a grisly snarling that seemed to be coming deep from Jasper's chest. Jasper tried to shove past Edward, snapping his teeth just inches from Edward's face.
Emmett grabbed Jasper from behind in the next second, locking him into his massive steel grip, but Jasper struggled on, his wild, empty eyes focused only on me.
Beyond the shock, there was also pain. I'd tumbled down to the floor by the piano, with my arms thrown out instinctively to catch my fall, into the jagged shards of glass. Only now did I feel the searing, stinging pain that ran from my wrist to the crease inside my elbow.
Dazed and disoriented, I looked up from the bright red blood pulsing out of my arm—into the fevered eyes of the six suddenly ravenous vampires.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone