port Angeles

JESS DROVE FASTER THAN THE CHIEF, SO WE MADE IT TO PORT ANGELES by four. It had been a while since I'd had a girls' night out, and the estrogen rush was invigorating. We listened to whiny rock songs while Jessica jabbered on about the boys we hung out with. Jessica's dinner with Mike had gone very well, and she was hoping that by Saturday night they would have progressed to the first-kiss stage. I smiled to myself, pleased. Angela was passively happy to be going to the dance, but not really interested in Eric. Jess tried to get her to confess who her type was, but I interrupted with a question about dresses after a bit, to spare her. Angela threw a grateful glance my way.

Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist trap, much more polished and quaint than Forks. But Jessica and Angela knew it well, so they didn't plan to waste time on the picturesque boardwalk by the bay. Jess drove straight to the one big department store in town, which was a few streets in from the bay area's visitor-friendly face.

The dance was billed as semiformal, and we weren't exactly sure what that meant. Both Jessica and Angela seemed surprised and almost disbelieving when I told them I'd never been to a dance in Phoenix.

"Didn't you ever go with… someone?" Jess asked dubiously as we walked through the front doors of the store. Her attempt at subtlety was almost endearing.

"Really," I tried to convince her, not wanting to confess my dancing problems. "I didn't go out much."

"Why not?" Jessica demanded.

"No one asked me," I answered honestly.

She looked skeptical. "People ask you out here," she reminded me, "and you tell them no." We were in the juniors' section now, scanning the racks for dress-up clothes.

"Well, except for Tyler," Angela amended quietly.

"Excuse me?" I gasped. "What did you say?"

"Tyler told everyone he's taking you to prom," Jessica informed me with suspicious eyes.

"He said what?" I sounded like I was choking.

"I told you it wasn't true," Angela murmured to Jessica.

I was silent, still lost in shock that was quickly turning to irritation. But we had found the dress racks, and now we had work to do.

"That's why Lauren doesn't like you," Jessica giggled while we pawed through the clothes.

I ground my teeth. "Do you think that if I ran him over with my truck he would stop feeling guilty about the accident? That he might give up on making amends and call it even?"

"Maybe," Jess snickered. "If that's why he's doing this."

The dress selection wasn't large, but both of them found a few things to try on. I sat on a low chair just inside the dressing room, by the three-way mirror, trying to control my fuming.

Jess was torn between two—one a long, strapless, basic black number, the other a knee-length electric blue with spaghetti straps. I encouraged her to go with the blue; why not play up the eyes? Angela chose a pale pink dress that draped around her tall frame nicely and brought out honey tints in her light brown hair. I complimented them both generously and helped by returning the rejects to their racks. The whole process was much shorter and easier than similar trips I'd taken with Renée at home. I guess there was something to be said for limited choices.

We headed over to shoes and accessories. While they tried things on I merely watched and critiqued, not in the mood to shop for myself, though I did need new shoes. The girls'-night high was wearing off in the wake of my annoyance at Tyler, leaving room for the gloom to move back in.

"Angela?" I began, hesitant, while she was trying on a pair of pink strappy heels—she was overjoyed to have a date tall enough that she could wear high heels at all. Jessica had drifted to the jewelry counter and we were alone.

"Yes?" She held her leg out, twisting her ankle to get a better view of the shoe.

I chickened out. "I like those."

"I think I'll get them—though they'll never match anything but the one dress," she mused.

"Oh, go ahead—they're on sale," I encouraged. She smiled, putting the lid back on a box that contained more practical-looking off-white shoes.

I tried again. "Um, Angela…" She looked up curiously.

"Is it normal for the… Cullens"—I kept my eyes on the shoes—"to be out of school a lot?" I failed miserably in my attempt to sound nonchalant.

"Yes, when the weather is good they go backpacking all the time—even the doctor. They're all real outdoorsy," she told me quietly, examining her shoes, too. She didn't ask one question, let alone the hundreds that Jessica would have unleashed. I was beginning to really like Angela.

"Oh." I let the subject drop as Jessica returned to show us the rhinestone jewelry she'd found to match her silver shoes.

We planned to go to dinner at a little Italian restaurant on the boardwalk, but the dress shopping hadn't taken as long as we'd expected. Jess and Angela were going to take their clothes back to the car and then walk down to the bay. I told them I would meet them at the restaurant in an hour—I wanted to look for a bookstore. They were both willing to come with me, but I encouraged them to go have fun—they didn't know how preoccupied I could get when surrounded by books; it was something I preferred to do alone. They walked off to the car chattering happily, and I headed in the direction Jess pointed out.

I had no trouble finding the bookstore, but it wasn't what I was looking for. The windows were full of crystals, dream-catchers, and books about spiritual healing. I didn't even go inside. Through the glass I could see a fifty-year- old woman with long, gray hair worn straight down her back, clad in a dress right out of the sixties, smiling welcomingly from behind the counter. I decided that was one conversation I could skip. There had to be a normal bookstore in town.

I meandered through the streets, which were filling up with end-of-the-workday traffic, and hoped I was headed toward downtown. I wasn't paying as much attention as I should to where I was going; I was wrestling with despair. I was trying so hard not to think about her, and what Angela had said… and more than anything trying to beat down my hopes for Saturday, fearing a disappointment more painful than the rest, when I looked up to see someone's silver Volvo parked along the street and it all came crashing down on me. Stupid, unreliable vampire, I thought to myself.

I stomped along in a southerly direction, toward some glass-fronted shops that looked promising. But when I got to them, they were just a repair shop and a vacant space. I still had too much time to go looking for Jess and Angela yet, and I definitely needed to get my mood in hand before I met back up with them. I ran my fingers through my hair a couple of times and took some deep breaths before I continued around the corner.

I started to realize, as I crossed another road, that I was going the wrong direction. The little foot traffic I had seen was going north, and it looked like the buildings here were mostly warehouses. I decided to turn east at the next corner, and then loop around after a few blocks and try my luck on a different street on my way back to the boardwalk.

A group of four men turned around the corner I was heading for, dressed too casually to be heading home from the office, but they were too grimy to be tourists. As they approached me, I realized they weren't too many years older than I was. They were joking loudly among themselves, laughing raucously and punching each other's arms. I scooted as far to the inside of the sidewalk as I could to give them room, walking swiftly, looking past them to the corner.

"Hey, there!" one of them called as they passed, and he had to be talking to me since no one else was around. I glanced up automatically. Two of them had paused, the other two were slowing. The closest, a heavyset, dark-haired man in his early twenties, seemed to be the one who had spoken. He was wearing a flannel shirt open over a dirty t-shirt, cut-off jeans, and sandals. He took half a step toward me.

"Hello," I mumbled, a knee-jerk reaction. Then I quickly looked away and walked faster toward the corner. I could hear them laughing at full volume behind me.

"Hey, wait!" one of them called after me again, but I kept my head down and rounded the corner with a sigh of relief. I could still hear them chortling behind me.

I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several somber-colored warehouses, each with large bay doors for unloading trucks, padlocked for the night. The south side of the street had no sidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire protecting some kind of engine parts storage yard. I'd wandered far past the part of Port Angeles that I, as a guest, was intended to see. It was getting dark, I realized, the clouds finally returning, piling up on the western horizon, creating an early sunset. The eastern sky was still clear, but graying, shot through with streaks of pink and orange. I'd left my jacket in the car, and a sudden shiver made me cross my arms tightly across my chest. A single van passed me, and then the road was empty.

The sky suddenly darkened further, and, as I looked over my shoulder to glare at the offending cloud, I realized with a shock that two men were walking quietly twenty feet behind me.

They were from the same group I'd passed at the corner, though neither was the dark one who'd spoken to me. I turned my head forward at once, quickening my pace. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather made me shiver again. My purse was on a shoulder strap and I had it slung across my body, the way you were supposed to wear it so it wouldn't get snatched. I knew exactly where my pepper spray was—still in my duffel bag under the bed, never unpacked. I didn't have much money with me, just a twenty and some ones, and I thought about "accidentally" dropping my bag and walking away. But a small, frightened voice in the back of my mind warned me that they might be something worse than thieves.

I listened intently to their quiet footsteps, which were much too quiet when compared to the boisterous noise they'd been making earlier, and it didn't sound like they were speeding up, or getting any closer to me. Breathe, I had to remind myself. You don't know they're following you. I continued to walk as quickly as I could without actually running, focusing on the right-hand turn that was only a few yards away from me now. I could hear them, staying as far back as they'd been before. A blue car turned onto the street from the south and drove quickly past me. I thought of jumping out in front of it, but I hesitated, inhibited, unsure that I was really being pursued, and then it was too late.

I reached the corner, but a swift glance revealed that it was only a blind drive to the back of another building. I was half-turned in anticipation; I had to hurriedly correct and dash across the narrow drive, back to the sidewalk. The street ended at the next corner, where there was a stop sign. I concentrated on the faint footsteps behind me, deciding whether or not to run. They sounded farther back, though, and I knew they could outrun me in any case. I was sure to trip and go sprawling if I tried to go any faster. The footfalls were definitely farther back. I risked a quick glance over my shoulder, and they were maybe forty feet back now, I saw with relief. But they were both staring at me.

It seemed to take forever for me to get to the corner. I kept my pace steady, the men behind me falling ever so slightly farther behind with every step. Maybe they realized they had scared me and were sorry. I saw two cars going north pass the intersection I was heading for, and I exhaled in relief. There would be more people around once I got off this deserted street. I skipped around the corner with a grateful sigh.

And skidded to a stop.

The street was lined on both sides by blank, doorless, windowless walls. I could see in the distance, two intersections down, streetlamps, cars, and more pedestrians, but they were all too far away. Because lounging against the western building, midway down the street, were the other two men from the group, both watching with excited smiles as I froze dead on the sidewalk. I realized then that I wasn't being followed.

I was being herded.

I paused for only a second, but it felt like a very long time. I turned then and darted to the other side of the road. I had a sinking feeling that it was a wasted attempt. The footsteps behind me were louder now.

"There you are!" The booming voice of the stocky, dark-haired man shattered the intense quiet and made me jump. In the gathering darkness, it seemed like he was looking past me.

"Yeah," a voice called loudly from behind me, making me jump again as I tried to hurry down the street. "We just took a little detour."

My steps had to slow now. I was closing the distance between myself and the lounging pair too quickly. I had a good loud scream, and I sucked in air, preparing to use it, but my throat was so dry I wasn't sure how much volume I could manage. With a quick movement I slipped my purse over my head, gripping the strap with one hand, ready to surrender it or use it as weapon as need demanded.

The thickset man shrugged away from the wall as I warily came to a stop, and walked slowly into the street.

"Stay away from me," I warned in a voice that was supposed to sound strong and fearless. But I was right about the dry throat—no volume.

"Don't be like that, sugar," he called, and the raucous laughter started again behind me.

I braced myself, feet apart, trying to remember through my panic what little self-defense I knew. Heel of the hand thrust upward, hopefully breaking the nose or shoving it into the brain. Finger through the eye socket—try to hook around and pop the eye out. And the standard knee to the groin, of course. That same pessimistic voice in my mind spoke up then, reminding me that I probably wouldn't have a chance against one of them, and there were four. Shut up! I commanded the voice before terror could incapacitate me. I wasn't going out without taking someone with me. I tried to swallow so I could build up a decent scream.

Headlights suddenly flew around the corner, the car almost hitting the stocky one, forcing him to jump back toward the sidewalk. I dove into the road—this car was going to stop, or have to hit me. But the silver car unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger door open just a few feet from me.

"Get in," a furious voice commanded.

I dove into the Volvo's dark interior, not even questioning how she'd come to be here, relief and a new panic swamping me at the same time. What if she got hurt? I yanked the door shut behind me while I shouted.

"Drive, Edyth, get out of here. these guys are rapist's."

But the car didn't move.

"Dont move from the vehicle," she ordered, and I heard the driver's side door open.

I reached out blindly toward the sound of her voice, and my hand caught her slim, cold arm. She froze when I touched her. There was no give, though my fingers wrapped tight around the leather of her jacket.

"What are you doing?" I demanded. "Drive!"

My eyes were adjusting, and I could just make out her eyes in the reflected glow of the headlights. First they looked at my hand gripping her arm, then they narrowed and glared out the windshield toward where the men must be watching, evaluating. They could decide to attack us at at any second.

"Give me just a minute here, Bella." I could tell her teeth were clenched together.

I knew she would have no problem breaking free of my grasp, but she seemed to be waiting for me to let her go. That wasn't going to happen.

"If you go out there, I'm going with you," I said quietly. "I'm not letting you put yourself In danger."

Her eyes glared forward for another half-second, and then her door slammed shut and we were reversing at what felt like about sixty.

"Fine," she huffed.

The car spun in a tight arc as we raced backward around a corner, and then suddenly we were speeding forward.

"Put on your seat belt," she told me.

I had to drop her arm to obey, but that was probably a good idea anyway. It wasn't exactly a normal thing, holding on to a girl like that. Still… I was sad to let go.

The snap as the belt connected was loud in the darkness.

She took a sharp left, then blew through several stop signs without a pause.

But I felt oddly at ease, and totally unconcerned about where we were going. I stared at her face—lit only by the dim dashboard lights—and felt a profound relief that went beyond my lucky escape.

She was here. She was real.

It took me a few minutes of staring at her perfect face to realize more than that. To realize that she looked super, super pissed.

"Are you okay?" I asked, surprised by how hoarse my voice was.

"No," she snapped.

I waited in silence, watching her face while her eyes glared straight ahead.

The car came to a sudden, screeching stop. I glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything besides the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. We weren't in town anymore.

"Are you hurt at all, Bella?" she asked, her voice hard.

No." My voice was still rough. I tried to clear my throat quietly. "Are you?"

She looked at me then, with a kind of irritated disbelief. "Of course I'm not hurt."

"Good," I said. "Um, can I ask why you're so mad? Did I do something?"

She exhaled in a sudden gust. "Don't be stupid, Bella."

"Sorry."

She gave me another disbelieving look and then shook her head. "Do you think you would be all right if I left you here in the car for just a few—"

Before she could finish, I reached out to grab her hand where it rested on the gearshift. She reacted by freezing again; she didn't pull her hand away.

It was the first time I'd really touched her skin, when it wasn't accidental and just for a fraction of a second. Though her hand was as cold as I expected, my hand seemed to burn from the contact. Her skin was so smooth.

"You're not going anywhere without me."

She glared at me, and like before, it was as if she were waiting for me to let go instead of just yanking free like she could easily have done.

After a moment, she closed her eyes.

"Fine," she said again. "Give me a moment."

I was okay with that. I kept my hand lightly on hers, taking advantage of her closed eyes to stare openly. Slowly, the tension in her face started to relax until it was smooth and blank as a statue. A beautiful statue, carved by an artistic genius. Aphrodite, maybe. Was that the one who was supposed to be the goddess of beauty?

There was that faint fragrance in the car again—something elusive that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Then her eyes opened, and she looked slowly down at my hand.

"Do you… want me to let go?" I asked.

Her voice was careful. "I think that might be for the best."

"You're not going anywhere?" I checked.

"I suppose not, if you're that opposed."

Unwillingly, I pulled my hand from hers. It felt like I'd been holding a handful of ice cubes.

"Better?" I asked.

She took a deep breath. "Not really."

"What is it, Edyth? What's wrong?"

She almost smiled, but there was no humor in her eyes. "This may come as a surprise to you, Bella, but I have a little bit of a temper. Sometimes it's hard for me to forgive easily when someone… offends me."

Did I—"

"Stop, Bella," she said before I could even get the second word fully out. "I'm not talking about you." She looked up at me with her eyes wide. "Do you realize that they were serious? That they were actually going to assault you?"

"Yeah, I kinda figured they were going to try."

It's completely ridiculous!" It seemed like she was working herself up again. "Who gets assaulted in Port Angeles? What is it with you, Bella? Why does all the bad luck come looking for you?"

I blinked. "I… I have no answer for that."

She tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips, exhaling through her nose. "So I'm not allowed to go teach those criminals a lesson in manners?"

"Um, no. Please?"

She sighed a long, slow sigh, and her eyes closed again. "How disagreeable."

We sat in silence for a moment while I tried to think of something to say that would make up for… I guess, disappointing her? That was what it seemed like—that she was disappointed I was asking her not to go looking for multiple armed possible rapists who had… offended her by threatening me. It didn't make much sense—and even less so when you factored in that she had asked me to stay in the car. She was planning to go on foot? We'd driven miles away.

For the first time since I'd seen her tonight, the word Jules had said popped into my mind.

Her eyes opened at the same moment, and I wondered if she'd somehow known what I was thinking. But she just looked at the clock and sighed again.

"Your friends must be worried about you," she said.

It was past six-thirty. I was sure she was right.

She started the engine without another word, turning around smoothly and speeding back toward town. We were under the streetlights in no time at all, still going too fast, weaving with ease through the cars slowly cruising the boardwalk. She parallel-parked against the curb in a space I would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but she slid in effortlessly in one try. I looked out the window to see the lights of La Bella Italia, and Jess and Angela just leaving, pacing anxiously away from us.

"How did you know where…?" I began, but then I just shook my head. I heard the door open and turned to see her getting out.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm taking you to dinner." She smiled slightly, but her eyes were hard. She stepped out of the car and slammed the door. I fumbled with my seat belt, and then hurried to get out of the car as well. She was waiting for me on the sidewalk.

She spoke before I could. "Go stop Jessica and Angela before I have to track them down, too. I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again."

I shivered at the threat in her voice.

"Jess! Angela!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed back to me, the pronounced relief on both their faces simultaneously changing to surprise as they saw who I was standing next to. They hesitated a few feet from us.

"Where have you been?" Jessica's voice was suspicious.

"I got lost," I admitted sheepishly. "And then I ran into Edyth." I gestured toward her.

"Would it be all right if I joined you?" she asked in her silken, irresistible voice. I could see from their staggered expressions that she had never unleashed her talents on them before.

"Er… sure," Jessica breathed.

"Um, actually, Bella, we already ate while we were waiting—sorry," Angela confessed.

"That's fine—I'm not hungry." I shrugged.

"I think you should eat something." Edith's voice was low, but full of authority. She looked up at Jessica and spoke slightly louder. "Do you mind if I drive Bella home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while she eats."

"Uh, no problem, I guess…" She bit her lip, trying to figure out from my expression whether that was what I wanted. I winked at her. I wanted nothing more than to be alone with my perpetual savior. There were so many questions that I couldn't bombard her with till we were by ourselves.

"Okay." Angela was quicker than Jessica. "See you tomorrow, Bella… Edyth." She grabbed Jessica's hand and pulled her toward the car, which I could see a little ways away, parked across First Street. As they got in, Jess turned and waved, her face eager with curiosity, and I waved back.

"I knew it!" I heard Jess say excitedly just before she slammed her door. I waited for them to drive away before I turned to face Edyth.

"Honestly, I'm not hungry," I insisted, looking up to scrutinize her face. Her expression was unreadable.

"Humor me."

She walked to the door of the restaurant and held it open with an obstinate expression. Obviously, there would be no further discussion. I walked past her into the restaurant with a resigned sigh.

The restaurant wasn't crowded—this was the off-season in Port Angeles. The host was a meticulously groomed guy 

His eyes did that same thing that Angela's and Jessica's had, bugging out for a second before he got control of his expression. Then it was his smarmiest smile and a goofy deep bow, all for her. I was pretty sure he didn't even know I was standing there next to her.

What can I do for you?" he asked as he straightened up, still looking only at her.

"A table for two, please."

For the first time, he seemed to realize I was there. The look he gave me was quick and dismissive. His eyes shifted back to her immediately, not that I could blame him for that.

"Of course, er, mademoiselle." He grabbed two leather folders and gestured for Edyth to follow. I rolled my eyes. Signorina was probably what he'd been looking for.

He led us to a four-top in the middle of the most crowded part of the dining room. I reached for a chair, but Edyth shook her head at me.

"Perhaps something more private?" she said quietly to the host. It looked like she brushed the top of his hand with her fingers, which I already knew was unlike her—she didn't touch people if she could help it—but then I saw him slide that hand to a pocket inside his suit coat, and I realized that she must have given him a tip. I'd never seen anyone refuse a table like that except in old movies.

Of course," the host said, sounding as surprised as I was. He led us around a partition to a small ring of booths, all of them empty. "How is this?"

"Perfect," she said, and unleashed her smile on him.

Like a deer in headlights, the host froze for a long second, and then he slowly turned and staggered back toward the main floor, our menus still in the crook of his arm.

Edyth slid into one side of the closest booth, sitting close to the edge so that my only option was to sit facing her with the length of the table between us. After a second of hesitation, I sat, too.

Something thudded a couple of times on the other side of the partition, like the sound of someone tripping over his own feet and then recovering. It was a sound I was familiar with.

"That wasn't very nice."

She stared at me, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Whatever that thing you do is—with the dimples and the hypnotizing or whatever. That guy could hurt himself trying to get back to the door."

She half-smiled. "I do a thing?"

"Like you don't know the effect you have on people."

"I suppose I can think of a few effects.…" Her expression went dark for a tiny second, but then it cleared and she smiled. "But no one's ever accused me of hypnotism by dimples before."

"Do you think other people get their way so easily?"

She tilted her head to the side, ignoring my question. "Does it work on you—this thing you think I do?"

I sighed. "Every time."

And then our server arrived with an expectant expression, which quickly shifted to awe. Whatever the host had told him, it had been an understatement.

"Hello," he said, surprise making his voice monotone as he mechanically recited his lines. "My name is Sal, and I'll be taking care of you tonight. What can I get you to drink?"

Like the host's, his eyes never strayed from her face.

"Bella?" she prompted.

"Um, a Coke?"

I might as well not have spoken at all. The waiter just kept staring at Edyth. She flashed a grin at me before turning to him.

"Two Cokes," she told him, and, almost like an experiment, she smiled a wide, dimpled smile right into his face.

He actually wobbled, like he was going to keel over.

She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. The waiter shook his head and blinked, trying to reorient. I watched sympathetically. I knew just how he felt.

"And a menu?" she added when he didn't move.

"Yes, of course, I'll be right back with that." He was still shaking his head as he walked out of sight.

"You've seriously never noticed that before?" I asked her.

"It's been a while since I cared what anyone thought about me," she said. "And I don't usually smile so much."

"Probably safer that way—for everyone."

Everyone but you. Shall we talk about what happened tonight?"

"Huh?"

"Your near-assault? Or did you already forget?"

"Oh." Actually, I had.

She frowned. "How do you feel?"

What do you mean?" I hoped she didn't turn on the hypnotist eyes and make me tell the truth, because what I felt right now was… euphoria. She was right here, with me—on purpose—I'd gotten to touch her hand, and I probably had a few hours ahead to spend with her, too, since she'd promised to drive me home. I'd never felt so happy and so off-balance at the same time.

"Are you cold, dizzy, sick…?"

The way she listed the words reminded me of a doctor's exam. And I didn't feel cold or sick… or dizzy in a medical way. "Should I?"

She laughed. "I'm wondering if you're going to go into shock," she admitted. "I've seen it happen with less provocation."

"Oh. No, I think I'm fine, thanks." Honestly, almost being raped was not the most crazy thing that had happened to me tonight, and I hadn't really thought much about it.

Just the same, I'll feel better when you have some food in you."

On cue, the waiter appeared with our drinks and a basket of breadsticks. He stood with his back to me while he placed them on the table, then handed Edyth a menu. Done with her experiments, she didn't so much as look at him this time. She just pushed the menu across the table to me.

He cleared his throat nervously. "There are a few specials. Um, we have a mushroom ravioli and—"

"Sounds great," I interrupted; I didn't care what I got—food was the last thing on my mind. "I'll have that." I spoke a little louder than necessary, but I wasn't sure he really knew I was sitting here.

He finally threw a surprised glance my way, and then his attention was back to her.

"And for you…?"

"That's all we need. Thank you."

Of course.

He waited for a second, hoping for another smile, I thought. A glutton for punishment. When Edyth kept her eyes on me, he gave up and walked away.

"Drink," Edyth said. It sounded like an order.

I took a sip obediently, then another bigger gulp, surprised to find that I was actually pretty thirsty. I'd sucked down the entire glass before I knew it, and she slid her glass toward me.

"No, I'm fine," I told her.

"I'm not going to drink it," she said, and her tone added the duh.

Right," I said and, because I was still thirsty, I downed hers, too.

"Thanks," I muttered, while the word I didn't want to think swirled around my head again. The cold from the soda was radiating through my chest, and I had to shake off a shiver.

"You're cold?" she asked, serious now. Like a doctor again.

"It's just the Coke," I explained, fighting another shiver.

"Don't you have a jacket?"

Yes." I looked at the empty bench next to me. "Oh—I left it in Jessica's car," I realized.

Edyth was shrugging out of her jacket. I suddenly realized that I had never once noticed what she was wearing—not just tonight, but ever. The only thing I could remember was the black gown from my nightmare… I just couldn't seem to look away from her face, at least when I was awake. I made myself look now, focusing. She was removing a light beige leather jacket now; underneath she wore an ivory turtleneck sweater. It fit her snugly, and I tried to look away before I could turn too red.

She handed me the jacket, interrupting my ogling.

"Thanks," I said again, sliding my arms into her jacket. It was cold—the way my jacket felt when I first picked it up in the morning, hanging in the drafty hallway. I shivered again. It smelled amazing. I inhaled, trying to identify the delicious scent. It didn't smell like perfume. The sleeves were too long; I shoved them back so I could free my hands.

"That color blue looks lovely with your skin," she said, watching me. I was surprised; I looked down, flushing, of course.

You never told me about your family. We ran out of time the other day." Was it only last Thursday? It seemed like a lot longer.

She pushed the basket of breadsticks toward me.

"I'm not going into shock," I told her.

"Humor me?" she said, and then she did the thing with the smile and the eyes that always won.

"Ugh," I grumbled as I grabbed a breadstick.

"Good girl," she laughed.

I just gave her a dark look as I chewed.

"I don't know how you can be so blasé about this," she said. "You don't even look shaken. A normal person—" She shook her head. "But then you're not so normal, are you?"

I shook my head and swallowed. "I'm the most normal person I know."

"Everyone thinks that about themselves."

"Do you think that about yourself?" I challenged.

She pursed her lips.

"Right," I said. "Do you ever consider answering any of my questions, or is that not even on the table?"

"It depends on the question."

"So tell me one I'm allowed to ask."

She was still thinking about that when the waiter came around the partition with my food. I realized we'd been unconsciously leaning toward each other across the table, because we both straightened up as he approached. He set the dish in front of me—it looked pretty good—and turned quickly to Edyth.

"Did you change your mind?" he asked. "Isn't there anything I can get you?" I didn't think I was imagining the double meaning in his offer.

"Some more soda would be nice," she said, gesturing to the empty glasses without looking away from me.

The waiter stared at me now, and I could tell he was wondering why someone like Edyth if she's gay that is would be looking at someone like me that way. Well, it was a mystery to me, too. If the signs I was reading from her were right.

He grabbed the glasses and stalked off.

"I imagine you have a lot of questions for me," Edyth murmured.

"Just a couple thousand," I said.

"I'm sure.… Can I ask you one first? Is that unfair?"

Did that mean she was going to answer mine? I nodded eagerly. "What do you want to know?"

She stared down at the table now, her eyes hidden under her black lashes. Her hair fell forward, shielding more of her face.

The words weren't much more than a whisper. "We spoke before, about how you were… trying to figure out what I am. I was just wondering if you'd made any more progress with that."

I didn't answer, and finally she looked up. I was suddenly embarrassed, i couldn't hide the red I could feel creeping up into my face now.

What could I say? Had I made progress? Or just stumbled into another theory even more stupid than radioactive spiders? How could I say that word out loud, the one I'd been trying not to think all night?

I don't know what my face must have looked like, but her expression suddenly softened.

"It's that bad, then?" she asked.

"Can I—can we not talk about it here?" I glanced at the thin partition that separated us from the rest of the restaurant.

"Very bad," she murmured, half to herself. There was something very sad and… almost old about her eyes. Tired, defeated. It hurt me in a strange way to see her unhappy.

"Well," I said, trying to make my voice lighter. "Actually, if I answer your question first, I know you won't answer mine. You never do. So… you first."

Her face relaxed. "An exchange, then?"

"Yes."

The waiter returned with the Cokes. He set them on the table without a word this time and disappeared. I wondered if he could feel the tension as strongly as I could.

"I suppose we can try that," Edyth murmured. "But no promises."

"Okay.…" I started with the easy one. "So what brings you to Port Angeles tonight?"

She looked down, folding her hands carefully on the empty table in front of her. She glanced up at me from under the thick lashes, and there was a hint of a smile on her face.

"Next," she said.

"But that's the easiest one!"

She shrugged. "Next?"

I looked down, frustrated. I unrolled my silverware, picked up my fork, and carefully speared a ravioli. I put it in my mouth slowly, still looking down, chewing while I thought. The mushrooms were good. I swallowed and took a sip of Coke before I looked up.

"Fine, then." I glared at her, and continued slowly. "Let's say, hypothetically, that… someone… could know what people are thinking, read minds, you know—with just a few exceptions." It sounded so stupid. There was no way, if she wouldn't comment on the first one…

But then she looked at me calmly and said, "Just one exception. Hypothetically."

Well, damn.

It took me a minute to recover. She waited patiently.

"Okay." I worked to sound casual. "Just one exception, then. How would something like that work? What are the limitations? How would… that someone… find someone else at exactly the right time? How would she even know I was in trouble?" My convoluted questions weren't making any sense by the end.

"Hypothetically?" she asked.

"Right."

"Well, if… that someone—"

"Call her Jane," I suggested.

She smiled wryly. "If your Hypothetical Jane had been paying better attention, the timing wouldn't have needed to be quite so exact." She rolled her eyes. "I'm still not over how this could happen at all. How does anyone get into so much trouble, so consistently, and in such unlikely places? You would have devastated Port Angeles's crime rate statistics for a decade, you know."

"I don't see how this is my fault."

She stared at me, that familiar frustration in her eyes. "I don't, either. But I don't know who to blame."

"How did you know?"

She locked eyes with me, torn, and I guessed she was wrestling against the desire to just tell me the truth.

"You can trust me, you know," I whispered. I reached forward slowly, to put my hand on top of hers, but she slid them back an inch, so I let my hand fall empty to the table.

"It's what I want to do," she admitted, her voice even quieter than mine. "But that doesn't mean it's right."

"Please?" I asked.

She hesitated one more second, and then it came out in a rush.

"I followed you to Port Angeles," she admitted, speaking in a rush. "I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it's much more troublesome than I would have believed. But that's probably just because it's you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes." She paused. I wondered if it should bother me that she was following me; instead I felt a strange surge of pleasure. She stared, maybe wondering why my lips were curving into an involuntary smile.

"Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you've been interfering with fate… Final Destination-style?" I speculated, distracting myself.

"That wasn't the first time," she said, and her voice was hard to hear. I stared at her in amazement, but she was looking down. "Your number was up the first time I met you."

I felt a spasm of fear at her words, and the abrupt memory of her violent black glare that first day… but the overwhelming sense of safety I felt in her presence stifled it. By the time she looked up to read my eyes, there was no trace of fear in them.

"You remember?" she asked, her angel's face grave.

"Yes." I was calm.

"And yet here you sit." There was a trace of disbelief in her voice; she raised one eyebrow.

"Yes, here I sit… because of you." I paused. "Because somehow you knew how to find me today…?" I prompted.

She pressed her lips together, staring at me through narrowed eyes, deciding again. Her eyes flashed down to my full plate, and then back to me.

"You eat, I'll talk," she bargained.

I quickly scooped up another ravioli and popped it in my mouth.

"It's harder than it should be—keeping track of you. Usually I can find someone very easily, once I've heard their mind before." She looked at me anxiously, and I realized I had frozen. I made myself swallow, then stabbed another ravioli and tossed it in.

"I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully—like I said, only you could find trouble in Port Angeles—and at first I didn't notice when you took off on your own. Then, when I realized that you weren't with her anymore, I went looking for you at the bookstore I saw in her head. I could tell that you hadn't gone in, and that you'd gone south… and I knew you would have to turn around soon. So I was just waiting for you, randomly searching through the thoughts of people on the street—to see if anyone had noticed you so I would know where you were. I had no reason to be worried… but I was strangely anxious.…" She was lost in thought, staring past me, seeing things I couldn't imagine.

"I started to drive in circles, still… listening. The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then—" She stopped, clenching her teeth together in sudden fury. She made an effort to calm herself.

"Then what?" I whispered. She continued to stare over my head.

"I heard what they were thinking," she growled, her upper lip curling slightly back over her teeth. "I saw your face in his mind." She suddenly leaned forward, one elbow appearing on the table, her hand covering her eyes. The movement was so swift it startled me.

"It was very… hard—you can't imagine how hard—for me to simply take you away, and leave them… alive." Her voice was muffled by her arm. "I could have let you go with Jessica and Angela, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them," she admitted in a whisper.

I sat quietly, dazed, my thoughts incoherent. My hands were folded in my lap, and I was leaning weakly against the back of the seat. She still had her face in her hand, and she was as still as if she'd been carved from the stone her skin resembled.

Finally she looked up, her eyes seeking mine, full of her own questions.

"Are you ready to go home?" she asked.

"I'm ready to leave," I qualified, overly grateful that we had the hour-long ride home together. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to her.

The waiter appeared as if he'd been called. Or watching.

"How are we doing?" he asked Edyth.

"We're ready for the check, thank you." Edith's voice was quiet, rougher, still reflecting the strain of our conversation. It seemed to muddle the waiter. Edyth looked up, waiting.

"S-sure," the waiter stuttered. "Here you go." He pulled a small leather folder from the front pocket of his black apron and handed it to Edyth.

There was a bill in Edith's hand already. She slipped it into the folder and handed it right back to the waiter.

"No change." Edyth smiled. Then she stood up, and I scrambled awkwardly to my feet.

The waiter smiled invitingly at Edyth again. "You have a nice evening."

Edyth didn't look away from me as she thanked the waiter. I suppressed a smile.

Edyth walked close beside me to the door, still careful not to touch me. I remembered what Jessica had said about her relationship with Mike, how they were almost to the first-kiss stage. I sighed. Edyth seemed to hear me, and she looked down curiously. I looked at the sidewalk, grateful that she didn't seem to be able to know what I was thinking.

She opened the passenger door, holding it for me as I stepped in, shutting it softly behind me. I watched her walk around the front of the car, amazed, yet again, by how graceful she was. I probably should have been used to that by now—but I wasn't. I had a feeling Edyth wasn't the kind of person anyone got used to.

Once inside the car, she started the engine and turned the heater on high. It had gotten very cold, and I guessed the good weather was at an end. I was warm in her jacket, though, breathing in the scent of it when I thought she couldn't see.

Edyth pulled out through the traffic, apparently without a glance, flipping around to head toward the freeway.

"Now," she said significantly, "it's your turn."