GODS AND MONSTERS ↝ P. LAHOTE

[21]

"Come on, Lark, we're one short!" Seth called out as the girl slammed the Jeep door shut, crossing Jacob and Billy Black's driveway to where the boys were playing soccer in the backyard with Leonora and Alicia, and Leah stoked the bonfire, orange and yellow flames cutting through the night sky. Billy sat next to Quil's grandfather around the fire, and Emily helped Seth, Leo and Leah's mother Sue lay out enough hamburgers and hot dogs to feed a village, though Lark knew it would be devoured by the pack of wolves in no time. Even she was making enough food for a large family whenever Paul came over, though it never seemed to be enough.

"Bold of you to assume I can play a full game of soccer without falling flat on my face." Lark teased, setting down the plate of cookies she'd brought with her on the picnic table and walking over to Paul, who greeted the girl with a kiss.

"Get a room!" Embry teased, playfully shoving Paul, who laughed in response, shrugging the younger boy off as he wrapped his arms around his girlfriend.

"It's so strange." Jared added. "Paul? Showing emotions? Who is he? I think I'm gonna be sick!" he joked, pretending to double over and clutching his stomach.

"Hey now," Lark said with a smirk. "Paul doesn't like to admit it, but he's a huge softie."

"I am not," the boy said, seemingly unfazed as he crossed his muscular arms over his chest, and Lark rolled her eyes in response.

"He cried during The Notebook." Lark said adamantly.

"Pshhh," Quil said. "That doesn't mean anything. Everyone cries at The Notebook."

"Thank you," Paul said, fist-bumping the Ateara boy. "Boom. Manly."

"Alright," Billy called to the teenagers, gesturing for everyone to join him by the fire. "Gather around. As you can see, we have a special guest tonight. Larkin, as Paul's imprint, you've been invited tonight to hear the legends of our people. We don't usually bring in outsiders, as these are sacred histories, but due to your relationship to the tribe and your interest in such subjects, we've decided to make an exception." 

"Stuff you won't find in your books." Paul whispered as the two sat down, Leonora and Alicia on Lark's other side, and Lark took Paul's hand in hers, squeezing it tightly in her excitement.

"Thank you," Lark said. "for having me. I'm honored to be here."

"The Quileutes have been a small tribe from the beginning." Billy began as the rest of the group took their seats around the fire, the humans warming up near the flames from the chilly Washington autumn evening air, though the werewolves in the group seemed to be unaffected by the drop in temperature. Paul shrugged an arm over Lark's shoulders and she leaned back against the boy, thankful for his inhuman body temperature in the cold as she began to warm up, his body heat sinking through the layers of her jacket. "But we've always had magic in our blood."

Lark watched in awe as Billy recounted an old tale of the chief Taha Aki, and their first encounter with the Cold Ones, as one day a man with skin as cold as ice seemed to come from nowhere and left the tribe in a panic, members laying on the ground, bodies completely drained of blood. At the presence of the cold man, Taha Aki shifted, and together he and the other men of the pack tore the vampire limb from limb. As much as she hated it, Lark couldn't help envisioning the Cullens as he spoke, as well as Alicia's sister Anastasia, who she had finally learned the truth about only a couple of weeks before; although the family of vampires had always been so kind to her whenever they met, and had never once made her feel as if she were in danger, the Cold Ones in Billy's story were just that: monsters, who shared the same species as the Cullen family.

While the others sitting around the campfire seemed bored at the story, the majority of them having heard the story numerous times before, Lark found herself clinging onto every word Billy spoke. Her entire life, she'd pulled knowledge from old stories of her father's, though Paul was right: this was one she'd never find within the pages of a book. The most sacred stories were only passed down through word of mouth from the tribe leaders, and were never written down for an outsider to find.