dinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes."
I watched her, waiting.
She smiled.  Her lips curved up at the edges, and her chocolate eyes warmed.
I'd just admitted to stalking her, and she was smiling.
"Did you ever think that maybe my number was up that first time, with the van,
and that you've been interfering with fate?" she asked.
"That wasn't the first time," I said, staring down at the dark maroon table cloth,
my shoulders bowed in shame.  My barriers were down, the truth still spilling free
recklessly.  "Your number was up the first time I met you."
It was true, and it angered me.  I had been positioned over her life like the blade
of a guillotine.  It was as if she had been marked for death by some cruel, unjust fate,
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and-since I'd proved an unwilling tool-that same fate continued to try to execute her.
I imagined the fate personified-a grisly, jealous hag, a vengeful harpy.
I wanted something, someone, to be responsible for this-so that I would have
something concrete to fight against.  Something, anything to destroy, so that Bella could
be safe.
Bella was very quiet; her breathing had accelerated.
I looked up at her, knowing I would finally see the fear I was waiting for.  Had I
not just admitted how close I'd been to killing her?  Closer than the van that had come
within slim inches of crushing her.  And yet, her face was still calm, her eyes still
tightened only with concern.
"You remember?"  She had to remember that.
"Yes," she said, her voice level and grave.  Her deep eyes were full of awareness.
She knew.  She knew that I had wanted to murder her.
Where were the screams?
"And yet here you sit," I said, pointing out the inherent contradiction.
"Yes, here I sit...because of you."  Her expression altered, turned curious, as she
unsubtly changed the subject.  "Because somehow you knew how to find me today...?"
Hopelessly, I pushed one more time at the barrier that protected her thoughts,
desperate to understand.  It made no logical sense to me.  How could she even care about
the rest with that glaring truth on the table?
She waited, only curious.  Her skin was pale, which was natural for her, but it still
concerned me.  Her dinner sat nearly untouched in front of her.  If I continued to tell her
too much, she was going to need a buffer when the shock wore off.
I named my terms.  "You eat, I'll talk."
She processed that for half a second, and then threw a bite in her mouth with a
speed that belied her calm.  She was more anxious for my answer than her eyes let on.
"It's harder than it should be-keeping track of you," I told her.  "Usually I can
find someone very easily, once I've heard their mind before."
I watched her face carefully as I said this.  Guessing right was one thing, having it
confirmed was another.
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She was motionless, her eyes wide.  I felt my teeth clench together as I waited for
her panic.
But she just blinked once, swallowed loudly, and then quickly scooped another
bite into her mouth.  She wanted me to continue.
"I was keeping tabs on Jessica," I went on, watching each word as it sank in.
"Not carefully-like I said, only you could find trouble in Port Angeles-" I couldn't
resist adding that.  Did she realize that other human lives were not so plagued with near
death experiences, or did she think she was normal?  She was the furthest thing from
normal I'd ever encountered.  "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..."  My breath came faster as I remembered that feeling of panic.  Her
scent blazed in my throat and I was glad.  It was a pain that meant she was alive.  As long
as I burned, she was safe.
"I started to drive in circles, still...listening."  I hoped the word made sense to her.
This had to be confusing.  "The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out, and
follow you on foot.  And then-"
As the memory took me-perfectly clear and as vivid as if I was in the moment
again-I felt the same murderous fury wash through my body, locking it into ice.
I wanted him dead.  I needed him dead.  My jaw clenched tight as I concentrated
on holding myself here at the table.  Bella still needed me.  That was what mattered.
"Then what?" she whispered, her dark eyes wide.
"I heard what they were thinking," I said through my teeth, unable to keep the
words from coming out in a growl.  "I saw your face in his mind."
I could hardly resist the urge to kill.  I still knew precisely where to find him.  His
black thoughts sucked at the night sky, pulling me toward them...
I covered my face, knowing my expression was that of a monster, a hunter, a
killer.  I fixed her image behind my closed eyes to control myself, focusing only on her
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face.  The delicate framework of her bones, the thin sheath of her pale skin-like silk
stretched over glass, incredibly soft and easy to shatter.  She was too vulnerable for this
world.  She
needed
a protector.  And, through some twisted mismanagement of destiny, I
was the closest thing available.
I tried to explain my violent reaction so that she would understand.
"It was very...hard-you can't imagine how hard-for me to simply take you
away, and leave them...alive," I whispered.  "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."
For the second time tonight, I confessed to an intended murder.  At least this one
was defensible.
She was quiet as I struggled to control myself.  I listened to her heartbeat.  The
rhythm was irregular, but it slowed as the time passed until it was steady again.  Her
breathing, too, was low and even.
I was too close to the edge.  I needed to get her home before...
Would I kill him, then?  Would I become a murderer again when she trusted me?
Was there any way to stop myself?
She'd promised to tell me her latest theory when we were alone.  Did I want to
hear it?  I was anxious for it, but would the reward for my curiosity be worse than not
knowing?
At any rate, she must have had enough truth for one night.
I looked at her again, and her face was paler than before, but composed.
"Are you ready to go home?" I asked.
"I'm ready to leave," she said, choosing her words carefully, as if a simple 'yes'
did not fully express what she wanted to say.
Frustrating.
The waitress returned.  She'd heard Bella's last statement as she'd dithered on the
other side of the partition, wondering what more she could offer me.  I wanted to roll my
eyes at some of the offerings she'd had in mind.
"How are we doing?" she asked me.
"We're ready for the check, thank you," I told her, my eyes on Bella.
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The waitress's breathing spiked and she was momentarily-to use Bella's
phrasing-dazzled by my voice.
In a sudden moment of perception, hearing the way my voice sounded in this
inconsequential human's head, I realized why I seemed to be attracting so much
admiration tonight-unmarred by the usual fear.
It was because of Bella.  Trying so hard to be safe for her, to be less frightening,
to be
human
, I truly had lost my edge.  The other humans saw only beauty now, with my
innate horror so carefully under control.
I looked up at the waitress, waiting for her to recover herself.  It was sort of
humorous, now that I understood the reason.
"Sure," she stuttered.  "Here you go."
She handed me the folder with the bill, thinking of the card she'd slid in behind
the receipt.  A card with her name and telephone number on it.
Yes, it was rather funny.
I had money ready again.  I gave the folder back at once, so she wouldn't waste
any time waiting for a call that would never come.
"No change," I told her, hoping the size of the tip would assuage her
disappointment.
I stood, and Bella quickly followed suit.  I wanted to offer her my hand, but I
thought that might be pushing my luck a little too far for one night.  I thanked the
waitress, my eyes never leaving Bella's face.  Bella seemed to be finding something
amusing, too.
We walked out; I walked as close beside her as I dared.  Close enough that the
warmth coming off her body was like a physical touch against the left side of my body.
As I held the door for her, she sighed quietly, and I wondered what regret made her sad.  I
stared into her eyes, about to ask, when she suddenly looked at the ground, seeming
embarrassed.  It made me more curious, even as it made me reluctant to ask.  The silence
between us continued while I opened her door for her and then got into the car.
I turned the heater on-the warmer weather had come to an abrupt end; the cold
car must be uncomfortable for her.  She huddled in my jacket, a small smile on her lips.
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I waited, postponing conversation until the lights of the boardwalk faded.  It made
me feel more alone with her.
Was that the right thing?  Now that I was focused only on her, the car seemed
very small.  Her scent swirled through it with the current of the heater, building and
strengthening.  It grew into its own force, like another entity in the car.  A presence that
demanded recognition.
It had that; I burned.  The burning was acceptable, though.  It seemed strangely
appropriate to me.  I had been given so much tonight-more than I'd expected.  And here
she was, still willingly at my side.  I owed something in return for that.  A 