Twilight: What She Doesn't See...

Survival of the Fittest

February 10th, 2005

"Name is Olliver Dennings. Age 29. Seems to be an apparent suicide."

 Numerous flashes of light illuminated the dark sky. Multiple men and women with cameras ducked under the yellow tape to enter and exit the grounds. 

Charlie, covering his mouth with a handkerchief, took the latex gloves and snapped them over his shaking hands. He bent down, holding his hand out to his partner. Using tweezers to pinch the encrusted edges of the note, he slowly pried it from the dead man's hands and placed it into the forensics bag. "Who in their right mind would let a wild animal eat their throats out?! I suppose people ain't satisfied with the usual--ropes, razor blades, and sleeping pills," Charlie murmured. Dark, brown eyes surveyed the scene with professional detachment. "I'm not so sure this is a suicide?" His latex fingers fingered the ugly bruise running from the base of the cadaver's neck. A handprint. He straightened, joints popping. "Send this bag down to forensics. Something's off. Give me the results as soon as they release them. " 

"Yes, Chief."

~*~

Four carcasses of bears, caribou, and mountain lions lay near the small river. Carlisle turned from the window of the secluded cabin. No matter how much animal blood Edward consumed, his eyes remained bottomless pits of seas and lighter shades of coal. 

Carlisle raked over the thousands of characters on the palimpsest. Refracted light bounced across his skin in billions of ignited fires, he pushed the window frames open searching for the wiry hunter. He spotted movement six miles further down the river. 

There's a coven I need to meet. For now, stay here as long as necessary. Avoid trouble.

The auburn-haired boy glanced up from his current game that was partially buried underwater. Mouth bloody, locking eyes with Carlisle, he nodded wordlessly.

"Alice," Carlisle leaned against the windowpane, closing his eyes. "I can only hope your visions are wrong."

~*~

He had been here. An animalistic growl rumbled in his chest. The smell of a vampire permeated the air. Jacob watched the rising and falling of Bella's chest. Tight fists released their grip from the tree branches. Grass thwacked beneath his shoes, and he landed in a low crouch.

This was all his fault.  He shouldn't have been on the fence about telling the tribe about Cullen. Let whatever war come their way. But now it's too late.  Guilt turned into a 10,000 lb weight in his gut. Forks Police may think that that man's death was a suicide, but Jacob knew the truth. That man was brutally murdered by a greater beast than himself.

 Edward Cullen had returned that night to finish the job. It was obvious the way the vampire had looked. Deprived. Starving...Deadly. 

 He'd be damned if he was going to let that happen to Bella Swan!  How could he live letting that devil continue to remain free, preying upon humans like cattle? Even if he'd have to be ripped apart, he'd make sure that Cullen bastard wouldn't set foot near her. 

The woods turned into a clearing, then his feet met the sand. 

A current of wind gently caressed his hair. He strode across the vastness to the dark figure.

Frothed waves touched the sandy shore.

A bonfire was lit.

"Sam."

~*~

February 12th, 2005

"I know I can't stop you from going to Seattle, but for heaven's sake take the pepper spray for my peace of mind."