Jacob Black and Me

Meeting

But my mouth was frozen wide, gaping in horror, out of the frying pan and into the fire. The werewolf – for what else could it be? – took a step towards me, its paw soft and silent on the grass. Predator. I stumbled backwards, my eyes wild and round, searching for escape. But before I could move, there they were.

More of them.

They formed a group, a horde of werewolves gathering around the cold body that already looked cracked a withered, like the vampyre had been made of marble and cool, shining glass. They looked – there was no other way to describe it – satisfied. One of them, with dark black fur the colour of midnight, grabbed her – Jane – by the ankle and began pulling her away from the scene. As it wrenched at her lifeless body, I caught a glimpse of the sharpest teeth – long and pointed – more like fangs than teeth – that I had ever seen.

They barely noticed me, and began moving off together in a pack – except the first one, the one who had killed her.

It stood on four legs, tall and formidable. A growl rose in its throat.

The feeling returned to my legs, and I ran.

Breathless, but fueled by adrenaline, I pounded on my front door.

I should tell dad, I have to tell someone...

But I knew I couldn't. reason told me that if I was not allowed to speak of the vampyres, it would probably be unwise to tell anyone of the thing I just seen.

Maybe they're good... I mean, they saved you from her....

But I felt doubtful. Just because the werewolf had killed Jane, it didn't mean it wouldn't kill me if it got the chance. I remembered how it had growled at me, its brown eyes flashing, and shivered. It had been a clear warning.

I could now distantly hear my dad trudging through the house to get to the front door, and, waiting on the doorstep, I spotted a twirl of smoke rising into the sky. Those guys from La Push were likely having a bonfire – not surprising, in such cool weather. I was starting to cool down after my sprint, and the icy wind bit my skin.

Dad threw open the door, looking careworn in his oldest jeans and fluffiest jumper.

"Serena? You know, there's no need to knock the house down," he remonstrated, yawning. "Why are you back so early? Don't you usually go the long route?"

"It was cold. And I'm starving," I replied quickly, grinning and pushing my way inside. The cosiness of our little cottage made me want to curl up and fall asleep under a feather-quilt. "Do you want breakfast?"

"Yeah. Eggs, thanks. But – don't worry about it if it means you're late for school."

School! I almost laughed – I'd forgotten, and the absurdity of the idea was grotesquely apparent when compared to what I had just been doing. And it was first day, too – first day at the school up at La Push.

"You want toast, too?" I called, lounging into the kitchen.

"Yeah, why not?" dad drawled. "Hey – you got everything for school?"

"You asked me that yesterday," I replied patiently. "books, stationary, my least crappy outfit – even a car. I'm ready." I got the eggs out of the fridge and cracked them over a sizzling frying pan as Dad chuckled from the couch. The TV was blaring with the morning news.

"You sure like that car, huh?"

I grinned to myself. The little Suzuki was almost new and this pretty blue colour. The inside smelt of warm, dripping chocolate and rain. Dad had got it for me the moment I had gotten my licence, and it felt great not to be worrying about crashing somebody else's car.

"Definitely," I asserted. "It is way cool, dad."

I was glad to make him happy by such a small statement – of the truth. He'd admitted to me once that he found it hard without mum being there, and he was anxious to make me as happy as possible – as happy as I could be – without her.

The eggs and toast – dripping with butter, just how dad liked it – ready, I placed them daintily on a smooth clean plate and presented them with a flourish on the coffee table. Dad grunted his thanks, eyes glued to the TV.

"I'm sweaty as hell. Going to catch a quick shower, then I'll be off, kay?"