Jules turned back with another smile, kind of apologetic. “No worries. It’s just … I’m not really supposed to talk about that.”
“Is it a secret?”
She pursed her curved lips. “Sort of.”
I held my hands up. “Forget I asked.”
“Already blew it, though, didn’t I?”
“I wouldn’t say you did—that girl Sam was a little … intense.”
She laughed. “Cool. Sam’s fault, then.”
I laughed, too. “Not really, though. I’m totally confused.”
She looked up at me, smiling like we already shared a secret of our own. “Can I trust you?”
“Of course.”
“You won’t go running to spill to your blond friend?”
“Logan? Oh yeah, I can’t keep anything from that guy. We’re like brothers.”
She liked that. When she laughed, it made me feel like I was funnier than I really was.
Her husky voice dropped a little lower. “Do you like scary stories, Beau?”
For one second, I could hear Edythe’s voice clearly in my head. Do you think I could be scary?
“How scary are we talking here?”
“You’ll never sleep again,” she promised.
“Well, now I have to hear it.”
She chuckled and looked down, a smile playing around the edges of her lips. I could tell she would try to make this good.
We were near one of the beached logs now, a huge white skeleton with the upended roots all tangled out like a hundred spider legs. Jules climbed up to sit on one of the thicker roots while I sat beneath her on the body of the tree. I tried to seem only interested as I looked at her, not like I was taking any of this seriously.
“I’m ready to be terrified.”
“Do you know any of our old stories, about where we come from—the Quileutes, I mean?” she began.
“Not really,” I admitted.
“There are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Great Flood—supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive like Noah and the ark.” She smiled, to show me she wasn’t taking this seriously, either. “Another legend claims that we descended from wolves—and that the wolves are our sisters still. It’s against tribal law to kill them.
“Then there are the stories about the cold ones.” Her voice dropped even lower.
“The cold ones?” I asked. Did I look too interested now? Could she guess that the word cold would mean something to me?
“Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandmother knew some of them. She was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our land.” She rolled her eyes.
“Your great-grandmother?” I encouraged.
“She was a tribal elder, like my mother. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf—well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into women, like our ancestors. You could call them werewolves, I guess.”
“Werewolves have enemies?”
“Only one.”
I stared at her, too eager, trying to disguise my impatience as entertainment.
“So you see,” Jules continued, “the cold ones are traditionally our enemies. But this pack that came to our territory during my great-grandmother’s time was different. They didn’t hunt the way others of their kind did—they weren’t supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So my great-grandmother made a truce with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn’t expose them to the pale-faces.” She winked at me.
“If they weren’t dangerous, then why … ?”
“There’s always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they’re civilized like this clan alleged they were. You never know when they might get too hungry to resist.” She deliberately worked a thick edge of menace into her tone.
“What do you mean, ‘civilized’?”
“They claimed that they didn’t hunt humans. They supposedly were somehow able to prey on animals instead.”
I tried to keep my voice casual, but I was pretty sure I failed. “So how does it fit in with the Cullens? Are they like the cold ones your great-grandmother met?”
“No… .” She paused dramatically. “They are the same ones.”
She must have thought the expression on my face meant only that I was engrossed in her story. She smiled, pleased, and continued.
“There are more of them now, a new female and a new male, but the rest are the same. In my great-grandmother’s time they already knew of the leader, Carine. She’d been here and gone before your people had even arrived.” She was fighting another smile, trying to keep the tone serious.
“And what are they?” I finally asked. “What are the cold ones?”
“Blood drinkers,” she replied in a chilling voice. “Your people call them vampires.”
I stared out at the rough surf after she answered, not sure what my face was giving away. Do you think I could be scary? Edythe’s voice repeated in my head.
“You have goose bumps on your neck,” Jules laughed delightedly.
“You’re a good storyteller,” I told her, still staring into the waves.
“Thanks, but you’re just cold. It’s crazy stuff, isn’t it? No wonder my mom doesn’t want us to talk about it to anyone.”
I couldn’t control my expression enough to look at her yet. “Don’t worry, I won’t give you away.”
“I guess I just violated the treaty.” She threw her head back and laughed.
“I’ll take it to the grave,” I promised, and then a shiver ran down my spine.
“Seriously, though, don’t say anything to Charlie. He was pretty mad at my mom when he heard that some of us weren’t going to the hospital since Dr. Cullen started working there.”
“I won’t say anything to Charlie, of course not.”
“So, do you think we’re a bunch of superstitious natives or what?” she asked in a playful tone, but with a hint of worry. I still hadn’t looked away from the ocean.
So I turned and smiled at her as normally as I could.
“No. I think you’re very good at telling scary stories, though. I still have goose bumps, see?” I yanked back the sleeve of my jacket to show her.
“Cool.” She grinned.
And then we both heard the sound of the beach rocks clattering against each other. Our heads snapped up at the same time to see McKayla and Jeremy about fifty yards away, walking toward us.
“There you are, Beau,” McKayla called in relief, waving her arm over her head.
“Is that your girlfriend?” Jules asked, picking up the edge in McKayla’s voice. I was surprised it was so obvious.
“No, why does everyone think that?”
Jules snorted. “Maybe because she wants them to.”
I sighed.
“You ever need a break from these friends of yours, let me know.”
“That sounds cool,” I said, and I meant it. I didn’t know if it was because we’d known each other longer, if not well, or if it was because Jules was so easygoing, but I already felt more comfortable with her than I did with any of the kids I’d be riding home with.
McKayla had reached us now, with Jeremy a few paces back, struggling to keep up. McKayla looked Jules up and down once, then turned to me in a move that was strangely dismissive of Jules. Jules snorted quietly again.
“Where have you been?” McKayla asked, though the answer was right in front of her.
“Jules here was just giving me the guided tour of First Beach.” I smiled at Jules and she grinned back. Again, it was like we had a shared secret. Of course, that was true now.
“Well,” McKayla said, eyeing Jules again. “We’re packing up. Looks like it’s going to rain.”
We all glanced up—the clouds were thick and black and very wet-looking.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m coming.”
&nbs
p; “It was nice to see you again,” Jules emphasized, and I guessed she was messing with McKayla.
“It really was. Next time Charlie comes down to see Bonnie, I’ll come with.”
Her grin stretched across her entire face, showing her straight white teeth. “That would be cool.”
“And thanks,” I added in a low voice, not quite casual enough.
She winked at me.
I pulled up my hood as we trudged across the rocks toward the parking lot. A few drops were beginning to fall, making black spots on the stones where they landed. When we got to the Suburban the others were already loading everything back in. I crawled into the backseat by Allen and Taylor, announcing that I’d already had my turn in the shotgun position. Allen just stared out the window at the building storm, and Logan twisted around in the middle seat to occupy Taylor’s attention, so I was free to lay my head back over the seat, close my eyes, and try very hard not to think.
7. NIGHTMARE
I TOLD CHARLIE I HAD A LOT OF HOMEWORK TO DO, AND THAT I’D FILLED up at La Push and didn’t want dinner. There was a basketball game on that he was excited about, though of course I couldn’t tell what was special about it, so he wasn’t aware of anything off about my face.
Once in my room, I locked the door. I dug through my desk until I found my old headphones, and I plugged them into my little CD player. I picked up a CD that Phil had given to me for Christmas. It was one of his favorite bands, but they were a little heavy for my taste. I stuck it into place and lay down on my bed. I put on the headphones, hit Play, and turned up the volume until it hurt my ears. I closed my eyes, and then added a pillow over the top half of my face.
I concentrated only on the music, trying to make out the lyrics, to unravel the complicated drum patterns. By the third time I’d listened through the CD, I knew all the words to the choruses, at least. I was surprised to find that I really did like the band after all, once I got past the blaring noise. I’d have to thank Phil again.
And it worked. The eardrum-shattering beats made it impossible for me to think—which was the whole idea. I listened to the CD again and again, until I was singing along with all the songs, until, finally, I fell asleep.
I opened my eyes to a familiar place. Though part of my mind seemed to know that I was dreaming, most of me was just present in the green light of the forest. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks somewhere nearby, and I knew that if I found the ocean, I’d be able to see the sun. So I was trying to follow the sound, but then Jules was there, tugging on my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest.
“Jules? What’s wrong?” I asked. Her face was frightened as she yanked on my hand, trying to tow me back into the dark.
“Run, Beau, you have to run!” she whispered, terrified.
“This way, Beau!” It was McKayla’s voice I heard now, calling from the thick of the trees, but I couldn’t see her.
“Why?” I asked, still pulling against Jules’s grasp. Finding the sun was really important to the dream me. It was all I could focus on.
And then Jules dropped my hand—she let out a strange yelp and, suddenly shaking, she fell twitching to the ground. I watched in horror, unable to move.
“Jules!” I yelled, but she was gone. In her place was a big, red-brown wolf with black eyes. The wolf faced away from me, pointing toward the shore, the hair on the back of her shoulders bristling, low growls issuing from between her exposed fangs.
“Beau, run!” McKayla cried out again from behind me. But I didn’t turn. I was watching a light, coming toward me from the beach.
And then Edythe stepped out from the trees.
She wore a black dress. It hung all the way to the ground but exposed her arms to the shoulders and had a deep-cut V for a neckline. Her skin was faintly glowing, and her eyes were flat black. She held up one hand and beckoned me to come to her. Her nails were filed into sharp points and painted a red so dark they were almost as black as her dress. Her lips were the same color.
The wolf between us growled.
I took a step forward, toward Edythe. She smiled then, and between her dark lips her teeth were sharp, pointed, like her fingernails.
“Trust me,” she purred.
I took another step.
The wolf launched herself across the space between me and the vampire, fangs aiming for the jugular.
“No!” I shouted, wrenching upright out of my bed.
My sudden movement caused the headphones to pull the CD player off the bedside table, and it clattered to the wooden floor.
My light was still on, and I was sitting fully dressed on the bed, with my shoes on. I glanced, disoriented, at the clock on my dresser. It was five-thirty in the morning.
I groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto my face, kicking off my boots. I was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. I rolled back over and unbuttoned my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as I tried to stay horizontal. I pulled the pillow back over my eyes.
It was all no use, though. My subconscious had decided to wallow in the word I’d been trying so hard to avoid. I was going to have to deal with it now.
First things first, I thought to myself, glad to put it off as long as possible. I grabbed my bathroom stuff.
Showering didn’t take very long. I couldn’t tell if Charlie was still asleep, or if he’d left already. I went to the window, and the cruiser was gone. Early-morning fishing again.
I dressed slowly in yesterday’s jeans and an old sweatshirt, and then made my bed—which was just stalling.
I couldn’t put it off any longer. I went to my desk and switched on my old computer.
I hated using the Internet here. My modem belonged in a museum, and my free service really proved that you got what you paid for. Just dialing up took so long that I decided to grab a bowl of cereal while I waited.
I ate slowly, so the last bites were too soggy to finish. I washed the bowl and spoon, then put them away. My feet dragged as I climbed the stairs. I went to pick up my CD player first, then wound up the headphones’ cord, and put them away in the desk drawer. I turned the same CD on, but turned it down till it was just background noise.
With a sigh, I turned to my computer, already feeling stupid before I could even finish typing the word.
Vampire.
I felt even more stupid looking at it.
The results were difficult to sift through. Most of it was entertainment—movies, TV shows, role-playing games, metal bands… . There were goth clothes and makeup, Halloween costumes, and convention schedules.
Eventually I found a promising site—Vampires A–Z—and waited impatiently for it to load. The final page was simple and academic-looking, black text on a white background. Two quotes greeted me on the home page:
Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is no figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghost nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious and terrible qualities of both.—Rev. Montague Summers
If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires?—Rousseau
The rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different myths of vampires found throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the Danag, was a Filipino vampire supposedly responsible for planting taro on the islands long ago. The myth continued that the Danag worked with humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut her finger and a Danag sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that it drained her body completely of blood.
I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that sounded familiar, let alone plausible. It seemed that most vampire myths focused on beautiful women as de
mons and children as victims; they also seemed like excuses created to explain away the high mortality rates for young children, and to give guys an excuse for infidelity. Many of the stories were about bodiless spirits and warnings against improper burials. There wasn’t much that sounded like the movies I remembered, and just a couple, like the Hebrew Estrie and the Polish Upier, who were even that interested in drinking blood.
Only three entries really caught my attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the Stregoni benefici.
About this last there was only one brief sentence.
Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires.
It was a strange relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds that claimed the existence of good vampires.
Overall, though, there wasn’t much that fit with Jules’s story or my own observations. I’d created a catalogue in my mind, and as I’d read I’d compared it with each myth. Beauty, speed, strength, pale skin, eyes that shift color; and then Jules’s criteria: blood drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, and immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor.
And then another problem, one that I’d remembered from the horror movies that I’d seen and that was backed up by today’s reading—vampires couldn’t come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder. They slept in coffins all day and came out only at night.
Annoyed, I snapped off the computer’s main power switch, not waiting to shut things down right. Through my irritation, I felt overwhelming embarrassment. It was all so stupid. I was sitting in my room, researching vampires. What was wrong with me?
I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that didn’t involve a three-day drive. I pulled on my boots anyway, unclear where I was headed, and went downstairs. I shrugged into my raincoat without checking the weather and stomped out the door.
Overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck and started east on foot, angling across Charlie’s yard toward the nearby forest. It didn’t take long till I was deep enough that the house and the road were invisible, and the only sound was the squish of the damp earth under my feet.
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