Eclipse - Meyer Stephenie (е книги TXT) 📗

She sighed. Something squashed my foot under the table.

“Ow!” I protested.

Charlie turned to me. “What?”

Alice shot me a frustrated look. I could tell she thought that I was very slow tonight.

“Stubbed my toe,” I muttered.

“Oh.” He looked back at Alice. “So, how ’bout it?”

She stepped on my foot again, not quite so hard this time.

“Er, Dad, you know, we don’t really have the best accommodations here. I bet Alice doesn’t want to sleep on my floor. . . .”

Charlie pursed his lips. Alice pulled out the devastated expression again.

“Maybe Bella should stay up there with you,” he suggested. “Just until your folks get back.”

“Oh, would you, Bella?” Alice smiled at me radiantly. “You don’t mind shopping with me, right?”

“Sure,” I agreed. “Shopping. Okay.”

“When are they leaving?” Charlie asked.

Alice made another face. “Tomorrow.”

“When do you want me?” I asked.

“After dinner, I guess,” she said, and then put one finger to her chin, thoughtful. “You don’t have anything going on Saturday, do you? I want to get out of town to shop, and it will be an all-day thing.”

“Not Seattle,” Charlie interjected, his eyebrows pulling together.

“Of course not,” Alice agreed at once, though we both knew Seattle would be plenty safe on Saturday. “I was thinking Olympia, maybe. . . .”

“You’ll like that, Bella.” Charlie was cheerful with relief. “Go get your fill of the city.”

“Yeah, Dad. It’ll be great.”

With one easy conversation, Alice had cleared my schedule for the battle.

Edward returned not much later. He accepted Charlie’s wishes for a nice trip without surprise. He claimed they were leaving early in the morning, and said goodnight before the usual time. Alice left with him.

I excused myself soon after they left.

“You can’t be tired,” Charlie protested.

“A little,” I lied.

“No wonder you like to skip the parties,” he muttered. “It takes you so long to recover.”

Upstairs, Edward was lying across my bed.

“What time are we meeting with the wolves?” I murmured as I went to join him.

“In an hour.”

“That’s good. Jake and his friends need to get some sleep.”

“They don’t need as much as you do,” he pointed out.

I moved to another topic, assuming he was about to try to talk me into staying home. “Did Alice tell you that she’s kidnapping me again?”

He grinned. “Actually, she’s not.”

I stared at him, confused, and he laughed quietly at my expression.

“I’m the only one who has permission to hold you hostage, remember?” he said. “Alice is going hunting with the rest of them.” He sighed. “I guess I don’t need to do that now.”

“You’re kidnapping me?”

He nodded.

I thought about that briefly. No Charlie listening downstairs, checking on me every so often. And no houseful of wide-awake vampires with their intrusively sensitive hearing. . . . Just him and me — really alone.

“Is that all right?” he asked, concerned by my silence.

“Well . . . sure, except for one thing.”

“What thing?” His eyes were anxious. It was mind-boggling, but, somehow, he still seemed unsure of his hold on me. Maybe I needed to make myself more clear.

“Why didn’t Alice tell Charlie you were leaving tonight?” I asked.

He laughed, relieved.

I enjoyed the trip to the clearing more than I had last night. I still felt guilty, still afraid, but I wasn’t terrified anymore. I could function. I could see past what was coming, and almost believe that maybe it would be okay. Edward was apparently fine with the idea of missing the fight . . . and that made it very hard not to believe him when he said this would be easy. He wouldn’t leave his family if he didn’t believe it himself. Maybe Alice was right, and I did worry too much.

We got to the clearing last.

Jasper and Emmett were already wrestling — just warming up from the sounds of their laughter. Alice and Rosalie lounged on the hard ground, watching. Esme and Carlisle were talking a few yards away, heads close together, fingers linked, not paying attention.

It was much brighter tonight, the moon shining through the thin clouds, and I could easily see the three wolves that sat around the edge of the practice ring, spaced far apart to watch from different angles.

It was also easy to recognize Jacob; I would have known him at once, even if he hadn’t looked up and stared at the sound of our approach.

“Where are the rest of the wolves?” I wondered.

“They don’t all need to be here. One would do the job, but Sam didn’t trust us enough to just send Jacob, though Jacob was willing. Quil and Embry are his usual . . . I guess you could call them his wingmen.”

“Jacob trusts you.”

Edward nodded. “He trusts us not to try to kill him. That’s about it, though.”

“Are you participating tonight?” I asked, hesitant. I knew this was going to be almost as hard for him as being left behind would have been for me. Maybe harder.

“I’ll help Jasper when he needs it. He wants to try some unequal groupings, teach them how to deal with multiple attackers.”

He shrugged.

And a fresh wave of panic shattered my brief sense of confidence.

They were still outnumbered. I was making that worse.

I stared at the field, trying to hide my reaction.

It was the wrong place to look, struggling as I was to lie to myself, to convince myself that everything would work out as I needed it to. Because when I forced my eyes away from the Cullens — away from the image of their play fighting that would be real and deadly in just a few days — Jacob caught my eyes and smiled.

It was the same wolfy grin as before, his eyes scrunching the way they did when he was human.

It was hard to believe that, not so long ago, I’d found the werewolves frightening — lost sleep to nightmares about them.

I knew, without asking, which of the others was Embry and which was Quil. Because Embry was clearly the thinner gray wolf with the dark spots on his back, who sat so patiently watching, while Quil — deep chocolate brown, lighter over his face — twitched constantly, looking like he was dying to join in the mock fight. They weren’t monsters, even like this. They were friends.

Friends who didn’t look nearly as indestructible as Emmett and Jasper did, moving faster than cobra strikes while the moonlight glinted off their granite-hard skin. Friends who didn’t seem to understand the danger involved here. Friends who were still somewhat mortal, friends who could bleed, friends who could die. . . .

Edward’s confidence was reassuring, because it was plain that he wasn’t truly worried about his family. But would it hurt him if something happened to the wolves? Was there any reason for him to be anxious, if that possibility didn’t bother him? Edward’s confidence only applied to one set of my fears.

I tried to smile back at Jacob, swallowing against the lump in my throat. I didn’t seem to get it right.

Jacob sprang lightly to his feet, his agility at odds with his sheer mass, and trotted over to where Edward and I stood on the fringe of things.

“Jacob,” Edward greeted him politely.

Jacob ignored him, his dark eyes on me. He put his head down to my level, as he had yesterday, cocking it to one side. A low whimper escaped his muzzle.

“I’m fine,” I answered, not needing the translation that Edward was about to give. “Just worried, you know.”

Jacob continued to stare at me.

“He wants to know why,” Edward murmured.

Jacob growled — not a threatening sound, an annoyed sound — and Edward’s lips twitched.

“What?” I asked.

“He thinks my translations leave something to be desired. What he actually thought was, ‘That’s really stupid. What is there to be worried about?’ I edited, because I thought it was rude.”

I halfway smiled, too anxious to really feel amused. “There’s plenty to be worried about,” I told Jacob. “Like a bunch of really stupid wolves getting themselves hurt.”

Jacob laughed his coughing bark.

Edward sighed. “Jasper wants help. You’ll be okay without a translator?”

“I’ll manage.”

Edward looked at me wistfully for one minute, his expression hard to understand, then turned his back and strode over to where Jasper waited.

I sat down where I was. The ground was cold and uncomfortable.

Jacob took a step forward, then looked back at me, and a low whine rose in his throat. He took another half-step.

“Go on without me,” I told him. “I don’t want to watch.”

Jacob leaned his head to the side again for a moment, and then folded himself on to the ground beside me with a rumbling sigh.

“Really, you can go ahead,” I assured him. He didn’t respond, he just put his head down on his paws.

I stared up at the bright silver clouds, not wanting to see the fight. My imagination had more than enough fuel. A breeze blew through the clearing, and I shivered.

Jacob scooted himself closer to me, pressing his warm fur against my left side.

“Er, thanks,” I muttered.

After a few minutes, I leaned against his wide shoulder. It was much more comfortable that way.

The clouds moved slowly across the sky, dimming and brightening as thick patches crossed the moon and passed on.

Absently, I began pulling my fingers through the fur on his neck. That same strange humming sound that he’d made yesterday rumbled in his throat. It was a homey kind of sound. Rougher, wilder than a cat’s purr, but conveying the same sense of contentment.

“You know, I never had a dog,” I mused. “I always wanted one, but Renee’s allergic.”

Jacob laughed; his body shook under me.

“Aren’t you worried about Saturday at all?” I asked.

He turned his enormous head toward me, so that I could see one of his eyes roll.

“I wish I could feel that positive.”

He leaned his head against my leg and started humming again. And it did make me feel just a little bit better.

“So we’ve got some hiking to do tomorrow, I guess.”

He rumbled; the sound was enthusiastic.

“It might be a long hike,” I warned him. “Edward doesn’t judge distances the way a normal person does.”

Jacob barked another laugh.

I settled deeper into his warm fur, resting my head against his neck.

It was strange. Even though he was in this bizarre form, this felt more like the way Jake and I used to be — the easy, effortless friendship that was as natural as breathing in and out — than the last few times I’d been with Jacob while he was human. Odd that I should find that again here, when I’d thought this wolf thing was the cause of its loss.