[ THE HUMAN CONDITION ]
Chapter XXV: Death is a Riptide

❝Nobody wanted your dance,
Nobody wanted your strange glitter – your floundering
Drowning life and your effort to save yourself,
Treading water, dancing the dark turmoil,
Looking for something to give –
Whatever you found
They bombarded with splinters,
Derision, mud – the mystery of that hatred.❞
—Ted Hughes, God Help the Wolf After Whom the Dogs Do Not Bark

I PASSED OUT FROM THE PAIN at some point after Franken-Dad started the car and left. It took hours for me to wake, and by then the sun was rising. My head pounded, my chest cavity and abdomen ached, my dignity was smushed—but I said to Hell with it and made myself sit up. It was a stretch of my limits. I managed to rise up but quickly fell into an acute angle, like a wrench was driven into my back. I couldn't fend off the groan of pain that left because of the sharp stabs that followed.

Never thought I'd be able to say a pack of wolves beat the shit out of me, but here I am, I thought bitterly, and the pack wasn't even the mongrels I know as pack.

I fished my phone out of my right back pocket. My fingers were trembling like I just snorted three ounces of morphine. Every thought was frantic, none comprehensible, all fleeting and panicky like I was still in the middle of a fight. Franken-Dad had fled the scene, but I still tasted blood—and I still ached everywhere that had neurons to transmit sensations of pain.

Sighing in and out, I shakily went to my contacts and scrolled until I saw Sam's name. He was the first person who came to mind that would know what to do in regards to tracking Franken-Dad down and containing him. He was the oldest, so he knew more. He was the calmest, so he would talk me down without talking down to me.

The dial tone began, and the phone rang and rang and rang. My heart accelerated a pace with every ring, bracing for the signature sound of a pick-up, but it didn't come. It went an entire minute. Late in the waiting game I realized he wasn't going to answer. I swore loudly and hung up.

My next call was to Embry, who was actually the last person that tried texting me. Around three hours after school when I was knees-deep in a biology assignment about mitosis and meiosis he messaged asking if he could call me. I'd claimed I was too busy, and our conversation ended there. Now I desperately needed him to answer. But he also didn't pick up.

I didn't have Jacob's number and I had him blocked on Myspace so I went straight to Jared's contact. I called him, biting my index finger's nail like I was in middle school again, but he did the same as the rest. He went straight to an automatic computed voice apologizing and saying the caller I was trying to reach was unavailable right now. I kept at him longer than the rest. I hoped maybe he would answer, being my brother and all. We had a history no one in the pack could compare to. A history that had become tainted.

Paul. I hovered a finger uncertainly over his name, feeling tears sting at my eyes. He was angry at me, but he couldn't be that angry. Angry enough to refuse a call from me when I was never one to initiate them with him. We texted frequently and he was always the one calling me due to the spontaneity and unexpectedness of his werewolf double life. I felt anxious. I knew he'd be angry or at least standoffish, so this call would be a pain in the ass if he actually answered.

Unfortunately, his call never went forward, either.

I let my head fall forward, hitting the top of my tiny Motorola. No one would know until tomorrow that Franken-Dad was on the loose with a hidden agenda that could very well tip the balance. If someone died, the blame would be pinned on me. If he died, I'd never forgive myself. If he did something inexcusable, or did something he would never do if he were lucid, all eyes would shoot towards me like I had personally condemned him to be the host of a monster's thoughts.

I was always the one to blame.

After spending thirty minutes sitting in the muck and sulking, it began to rain. I let it soak my head until tangled gobs of hair were sticking to my neck. I then, still hurting and beyond fatigued, dragged myself up off the ground. I limped back to the house, somewhat relieved when no random car appeared to hit me while I half-lethargically walked across the road. I fell in the mud after I was forced to jump the gate. I went through the front door and locked it behind me. I ambled like a zombie to my room at the end of the hall, tracking in mud, while flicking the lights on and off to get an idea of where to walk, and I went straight to bed when I reached my room. I left that final light on and didn't bother to close my window from where I took a leap of terror. I didn't care that I was dirty and soaked. I just wanted to sleep.

It wasn't very long before—

My eyes popped open to the sound of a crack of thunder so loud I thought it came from beside me. I jerked up and looked where my window was, but nothing outside resembled rain. The carpet by my window was drenched from the night showers the sky graced my presence with last night, but otherwise the sky only looked cloudy and alive.

Pushing myself into a slumped sitting position where my legs hung over the bed I stumbled to my feet, losing balance. I fell backwards, onto my ass again, into the crusted muck of last night's slip-and-fall. Cursing my body and cursing my life I forced myself back up, this time managing to stay upright. Thank fuck, I thought, not feeling very thankful when I looked like I emerged from a swamp.

One step, two step, three step, four step—I counted my steps as I made my way over to the window. When I looked out, there were no storm clouds. There were white clouds, dawdling in the sky.

Glancing over at my phone on the bed, I was hit with a complete recollection of last night's events. My eyes widened. I darted over to the bed, grabbing my Motorola with palmy hands.

I hoped to see numerous texts and void phone calls. What I got was none of the above.

No calls, no new messages. Oh, and it was nine-fifty in the morning. School was already in session. I was going to be sent to court if I kept a regular truancy record up.

"Crap."

I wasn't too disappointed. My body was still fucked from last night and I had to spend what time I could figuring out a solution to my Franken-Dad problem. Wherever he was going and whatever he planned to do, none of it could be nonthreatening. He had the potential to hurt people—destroy them. Needing my car implied he was going somewhere far from here. That was the likely worst-case scenario I knew was the only reasonable explanation.

Without him here, though...

Tossing my phone back on my bed without thinking to hook it up and charge it, I sprinted from my room, twisting into a sunlight-lit room only three rooms over. I didn't think about the study, as much as I should have in that moment.

He had left the door to his bedroom open. It was unlocked and ajar, so I barged my way in, immediately running to his closet. His closet was where he used to hide Christmas gifts, so I knew there was a chance his subconscious mind had placed evidence there. What evidence? my inner voice jeered. Oh, I didn't fucking know. I remembered he had ripped pages out from Arcus's journal. He also took Arcus's journal, and this was the only place he frequented aside from his office itself.

I wanted to know what he wrote, what he wanted to hide, what answers there were to where he intended to go and what he intended to do. I couldn't guess; my mind was in fragments.

I turned his entire fucking room upside down, somewhat literally. I looked in the closet, under his bed, in his bookshelf, where the plants were, in his pillowcases, all the drawers (even his underwear one). Just like his office, there was nothing to indicate anything and clues where an unattainable wet dream, and this couldn't be Scooby Doo where there was a hidden door behind the next shelf I searched. That was illogical, but I searched for a button anyway.

Then I saw it. I saw the rug. I remembered a memory from long ago, when Jared and I were rowdy, curious munchkins, and the two of us ran in here while Dad was tending to a chicken parmesan and garlic bread dinner. I tripped on the rug while trying to escape Jared's tickling fingers, and the fringed ends rode up like a flap to reveal a door. A door that Dad had quickly covered and scolded us from ever entering his room unsupervised.

I dove to the floor and sloppily jerked the rug away, revealing an unlocked, bolted door. It was wooden and some of it was chipping, the only tell that it was withering with age. Admiring the primitive quality, I undid the bolt and lifted the door.

Below, there was only a little cubby. It was filled close to the brim with an unimaginable surplus of papers, and Arcus's dirty journal was peeking from them. I saw nothing but information he'd taken from his own office as my eyes arbitrarily flirted from one side of the cubby to the next and for a fleeting second, I felt like I just hit the fucking jackpot.

"Yes, Mary and Joseph," I muttered to myself, pulling the papers and the journal up from the little hole in the ground in three different trips. They fell into a collective heap as my greedy hands went for more and more. I grabbed the first page, the one nearest to me, and read:

Today marks the fifteenth anniversary of Aunt Maria's death. Joseph and I drove to her gravesite, but her grave had been removed since the last time we visited. We asked some of the local workers, but nobody knew or saw any graverobbers. It's been years. Why would anyone rob her? They even took her tombstone.

This seemed like a personal entry from someone named Robbie. He was apparently my great-great-great grandfather from the dates and signature I read on the back of the paper, or so I gathered. I skipped to a new one that had swirly cursive writing.

I don't know how to start one of these. I'm new to this and I'm new to being useful. I guess I'll start by saying I thought I was seeing ghosts or going crazy the day my powers kicked in. Yeah, right. I thought I was dying and seeing my ancestors while I did. I hoped I was. I never thought I'd have to put my life on the line for a family I didn't even want to be a part of. Sounds about right for the deck of cards my mother dealt me.

Yikes. I moved past. The next entry was another personal one, and so were the five I read after that. Too many people were using their journals to air out dirty laundry. I got frustrated, but eventually I found a very thorough entry that recited rules and strategies for newbies. Huh—that would have been super fucking helpful a few days ago.

Finally, there was one that had "URGENT UPDATE" written boldly on the top line.

I have encountered an understanding to our kind that has never been unearthed, so I've seen from my relatives this far. For any of you new to this life, pay good and close attention. You can't be surprised if you're expecting it.

Firstly, under the command of a fairly powerful emissary spirits may harness powers that evoke the inner power of the beholder. I had to have this explained to me the first time I saw it in action. My father, Terrence, has demonstrated a prowess in my eyes that is only accessible for those in complete control. Without building a three-way bridge between your emotional intelligence, your humanity, and your relationship with your ancestry, the corporeal bodies of spirits will never be able to physically manifest as vessels. We will remain their only chance at a vessel, and that is the fastest road to a loss of control. In this world, complete control is the difference between life and death. There is no life after death—only an eternal waiting room. We are fully capable of becoming one with the Spirit Warriors inside us, but only if we know our potential. This is only if we realize what control means and how to achieve it.

Secondly, our ancestors do not live inside us. I once believed they lived the same as Spirit Warriors under our skin, in a contrived space awaiting our beck and call, but recent events have led me to know otherwise. Our ancestors walk the line between death and the afterlife, only arriving at Earth when something calls for them. They are connected to us, but we are not their vessels. It is a deadly force to be reckoned with, if they tried to make us their host. I know this may sound like nonsense. Our ancestors have minds of their owns, contrary to the Spirit Warriors within. Spirit Warriors are artificial manifestations of the wolves that protect us. We are not protectors; we are preserves. To you, that may make little sense but we preserve the tribe. The wolves would be nothing without us. We aren't creations of brawn like our companions. We were blessed with this gift for the well-being of the reservation and to keep the wolves that fight alongside us and fight for us fighting. We are their connection to the ancestral wolves that died to keep our culture and tribe afloat. They are the first line of defense and the men who eliminate the Cold Ones' influence from surfacing these sacred grounds and hurting innocents. Our ancestors are who we call upon and look to for guidance; no other mortals but us with this gift can see them, talk to them, and use them.

Thirdly, my final finding, is one which relates to my second. If you are to ever have an ancestor enter your body, for any purpose regardless of how benign or malevolent it may be, prepare for feverish health and an onslaught of memories that are not of your own making. It is possible to be more vulnerable than usual and have a countenance unlike your own. Only those closest to you will notice. I know this because Gio, my uncle, visited me from his place with the others who cannot move on from their life on Earth. He inadvertently entered me, and it was a terrible feeling. I did not know what was happening until days later after he performed an operation to withdraw his memories from my mind. He informed me that no one bothered to tell him that memories could be transferred from one host to another, dead or alive.

I stopped reading, feeling like the page only reiterated what I already knew was true. Like Arcus previously told me, Franken-Dad had Dakota's ambitions. Ambitions came from memories. The Volturi's indoctrination, Dakota's insecurities, and the sense of power that originated from terrorizing innocents all went to him, through Taha Aki's healing hand.

"Shit," I said, rubbing a hand over my jaw until it ached.

My head was spinning.

No one had answered the phone last time and I knew most of the pack was still at school, unless they decided to skip or Sam had an emergency in-school patrol, so I let my hope decimate until there wasn't a single part of me that believed there would be an alternate ending. I went to my room and plugged my Motorola into the nearest outlet to charge, then laid on my bed. The comforter was slick with the rainwater I dragged in last night, same with mud, but I didn't let that dissuade me from a small nap. I was still exhausted, and I avoided coffee if my life depended on. I could slip in a soda, just one, but even that sounded unappetizing against well-needed sleep. I also needed to change. Oh, do it later, numbskull. I was tempted, my eyes bagging the more I stayed near my bed, to go explore the study without my supervisor near. Shut the fuck up, Alissa. God, you're so stupid.

I slept.

I woke up with no new text messages and no new phone calls. Somehow I slept six hours and I woke up to the time being three-forty-eight. I cursed my untimely timing and leapt from my bed, dashing to the window and peering out.

My car was still gone and there weren't any tattooed bodybuilders emerging from the woods, come to vent their frustrations about me blowing up their cellphones. The sky was darkening and turning dreary, nothing like the open, cloudy sky from the morning.

"Fucking assholes. I'll go get you myself if you wanna play hooky," I said angrily, under my breath and directed at no cosmic presence come to observe mankind in particular. Arcus was gone and hadn't been by to say hello since our training session last night. I wondered if he had any clue that Richard had gone off the deep end and attempted to commit homicide, using his own daughter for his first offense. He snatched my keys and left me without a care. No, I was being rash. Arcus was too nice, too compassionate to let this occur and not come by to express his sincerest apologies.

Perhaps you put too much faith in the compassion of a man who's been dead for over seventeen years...

I snatched my phone from the plug-in. To my chagrin, the charger came apart from the wall and landed on the floor. I tried to ignore the little vexations, emphasizing their little importance to my new objective, so I could leave without trying to enact vengeance on my surroundings. I sent an angry message to Paul that told him just irritated I was with his radio silence before dropping it to the bed. They would have answered by now if they were even near their phones, and I was petulant enough to like keeping them waiting the same way they kept me.

Paul should have been at school and near his phone. He's one absence away from a court trial, and they don't react kindly to reservation kids.

I wasn't worried. Okay, maybe I was a little.

I successfully left the room. I successfully maneuvered through the hallway, then the kitchen. I squeezed through the front door and left it unlocked behind me. It was a stupid move, considering there had been all sorts of home robberies lately, but I didn't have my key. Franken-Dad took my wallet last night. There was no way of estimating what time I'd be home from my mission in the forest. It was already four o'clock. I was wasting time thinking over my options, falling into a ridiculous, insignificant cycle. What the fuck was I doing?

I went charging into the forest before I could answer that question.

My first thought was Sam's house on where the guys would be headed after school, so I walked in that direction. Or where I thought Sam's house was located. My sense of direction was crap, especially in the aftermath of my awful night. That didn't deter me from fabricating a confidence in my abilities.

With nothing but my thoughts to occupy my mind, I thought about Jeremiah. Of all people he was the first name to pop up. He wasn't a horrible person, contrary to what I used to believe and what Paul continued to believe. I felt guilty for my ill treatment and in the past two days we had been forced to befriend each other, I attempted a new, uncharacteristic friendliness. Usually when I befriended people I was an asshole, touting my sarcasm and wit like they'd be able to buy it off me. I was an aggressive salesman.

Jeremiah was funny in a quirky, offensive way and the longer we were forced to be in each other's presence, the more I realized that I was too quick to hate those who provoked me. He had called me a virgin slut but I was well past holding a grudge for something as small as that. He was just a guy and I was just a girl. Even Jacob had his own insecurities and life complications. It was an awful realization to have. The mightier-than-thou mentality was self-righteous and absolutely the wrong way to approach human beings who had been dicks to me. I was just on the struggle bus when it came to adapting, and I had Jared to think for the bitterness reflected in my personality.

Treating people the way they treat you seems like a cycle of conflict, I thought, taking an impulsive left. Maybe I should think of a new tactic...

I started hearing noises. They couldn't be there, so I tried ignoring them in place of affixing on their potential to be malign, telling myself I was manufacturing them to incite fear. It was all a hoax of the mind, made due to my own askance paranoia. At least, that's how I took it. I wanted it to be some big trick. I had the chance to change myself. Changing myself for the better required thinking about what flaws in my character needed a makeover. If there was something following me... well, I didn't want to think about mental paralysis.

A rustle of trees. A tinkling laugh that circled my body and cut deeper than a hatchet. A shiver that crawled down my back, coating me in dread.

"What the fuck?" I glanced around, looking in so many directions that I became sick from whiplash. Thinking there were footsteps was one thing, but hearing laughter? Now I was really going crazy. This couldn't be another of Dakota's illusions; he turned over a new leaf. Unless I missed him so much I simulated it in my head.

Yeah, no. Dumbass.

Then, it happened. The worst. The absolute fucking worst in this situation of self-reflection and poor direction. I was just here in pursuit of the pack, my brain chockfull of self-hate that just kept multiplying, possible solutions too convoluted for me to even attempt understanding, but what I got was the very creature the pack was hunting.

Victoria.

I knew it was her when a stark red caught my attention from ten yards away. She was crouched on a branch, her crimson eyes lasering me, and she was in clothes I saw in my mental image of a hitchhiker. She was wearing a dark jacket and had skin white and frosty, standing in deep contrast to the dreary colors she was dawning. She had deep-set eyes and cheekbones that went inward. She was ethereal and haunting. I took a step back, like that would take the threat away. Unfortunately for me, I was trapped. This wasn't some nightmare where I could blink and the bad guy would disappear into smoke.

Every thought of Jeremiah and a personality makeover drowned in the deep end. A feeling of fear trickled in, freezing me in my place.

Victoria seemed to smile. Without saying a word, she cocked her head to the side. A question was in her eyes. I observed this from my rooted place, able to see her better than I ever thought I could from this distance.

I darted to the right without thinking to ask her what she was mulling over. Her being a blood-eyed vampire, there wasn't much hope she'd be friendly. I was completely fucked whichever way I went—but going out dignified felt like the reasonable choice.

Victoria easily caught up with me. Though the air was crisp, I was wearing the same thick, muck-encrusted garments I wore yesterday. I could feel sweat swelling on my armpits and underneath my bra from my inner stress. A knot started again in my stomach, unused to running and hating every minute of it. Victoria flipped over my head and stopped with her back to me just feet away. I skidded to a stop. As I took deep breaths to calm my rapid heartbeat and dug my fingernails into my palms, she turned around to face me. There was something predatory about the way she looked at me then. I had only ever been looked at that way by one person before, mostly in dreamlike states of consciousness.

"You smell like the dogs," she said, her soft voice sounding like a scream through the silence, "but you do not smell like you're one yourself."

I panted, my breaths coming out like hot puffs of air. "What do you want?" I knew what she wanted, so this was a dangerous game to play with someone who was much more clever than me. She was here for Bella, who had been regularly coming on the reserve to see Jacob. She had become more of a pack-member than I was, but that wasn't really saying anything. Though I had never come in contact with Victoria before now, I wasn't unfamiliar with the bloodthirsty nature of vampires that consumed human blood and how resolute they were in winning their games—and I also knew she was a huntress that would see the downfall of everything around her before she lost her chance at revenge against Bella. That was her agenda. I knew a lot about agendas; while I couldn't figure out my killer father's, hers was an easy answer.

She didn't respond to my question and prowled forward. I was reminded of Dakota when he would taunt my mortal abilities by presenting himself to be as tortoise-paced and breakable as me. He had been a terrifying menace. Victoria was fresh and unknown. I wasn't afraid of her the way I was Dakota, who had the ability to delude me without me even realizing. Victoria... was hauntingly beautiful and looked like a killer that belonged in the wild. She was in her natural habitat here with me the only eligible prey in sight. These weren't her woods, but they weren't mine either; regardless, her killer instincts gave her the upper hand.

Thinking quickly, I lifted my hand and let all irrelevant emotions evacuate from my body. All that was left were two feelings that became easier and easier to call on demand and control. Anger for the predicament I was in and the helplessness I felt with my father and with this deadly vixen now. Fear for the easy possibility of death that would take careful care to evade and the vulturine look in the blood-red eyes of the predator facing me.

From my hand burst a quick-paced wolf that became larger the longer it ran, growling so loudly it shook the birds from the overhead trees. As it was inches from Victoria, she disappeared into a blur.

I felt her behind me and quickly turned. I crossed my arms over and tossed them down, letting the previous spirit vanish. I then raised my hand again, ready to repeat the process. My eyes locked on hers and a muscle twitched in my jaw. She looked amused.

I began throwing spirits left and right, vanishing them the moment I saw she had avoided yet another of my inaccurate targeted attacks. She was dancing from them, not even at a quarter of the speed I knew she was capable of. I ignored this little note and threw a last spirit in her direction.

She blurred until she was right in front of me and I was caught off guard. I froze with my arm still outstretched. She looked between me and my arm. I knew she thought I was some joke, but she had to be intrigued by what I was capable of. Unfortunately for me intrigue wouldn't dissuade her from draining my bloodstream and leaving my carcass to rot.

Not thinking of the consequences I didn't move my arm, but I still grasped deeply for a Spirit Warrior to protect me. She was able to move quickly and purposefully, like she knew my next move before I even thought to make it. Thinking about the vampires in my life who had abilities, I couldn't help but wonder... did she have one? Was it enhanced survival instincts? No other vampire I had met was this quick on the gun. All vampires were formidable in some regard, but I noticed something different about her.

I was pretty useless by emissary standards, sure—that didn't mean she should have been able to weave seamlessly out of every move I made.

Narrowing my eyes at her, I didn't look away as another wolf jumped from my hand. It rammed straight into her before she could avoid it, due to her close proximity, and knocked her back several feet.

I didn't wait around to see whether it immobilized her. I turned on my feet and ran in the opposite direction.

She was behind me and she would catch up unnervingly quickly. I thought this but I didn't look behind me. I kept my hand raised behind me and tried to juggle my concentration on the path in front of me with the emotions I required to conjure new lines of defense. Somehow one came from me, only heard through its roar as it charged. I was then able to make another, then another, powering through my blatant exhaustion. I almost stumbled over a rock in my attempts to cross my arms and eliminate previous wolves. Victoria could be heard behind me and I knew she was close, close enough to wrench me back by my hair, so I drew up as much energy as I could. Not much, but enough that I'd get a few more brief seconds of security. I thrust my hand back in her direction, hearing her frustrated yell when my latest wolf made contact.

I neared the end of what trees I could see, and I was relieved. I hoped I was near the pack. As much as I was angry with them I knew they were the best defensive team a girl running for her life could ask for. I threw myself into the veil of trees that brimmed with a small gap of light, stumbling out of the converged woods. What I saw was not anything close to a sanctuary.

No, I was near La Push Beach. There was a distinct smell in the air, like sand or pollution. I couldn't tell. And right in front of me was the infamous cliff that overlooked a crusade of deadly waves fighting the good fight against the rock wall—with Bella Swan, her feet inches from the edge, miraculously there.

I opened my mouth to warn her, but Victoria threw herself into me, hard enough that I felt something pop in my shoulder. It wasn't hard enough to dislocate or break a bone, but I felt a sensation unlike anything ever enough that my mouth opened involuntarily in a scream of pain. Before I could think to defend myself, she grabbed me by the collar of my flannel and flung me forward.

Everything happened quickly.

Bella whipped around, only looking at me for a simple moment before she stared behind me in horror. I knew she saw Victoria. Victoria didn't seem to acknowledge her chosen prey being in her vicinity, as she approached me again and pushed me so hard I flew right into Bella's frozen form. We clumsily collided, my hands grabbing onto her shoulders in refuge of a surface that wasn't air, and her arms impulsively went to my waist. We clung to each other as Bella lost her balance. We fell back into open space, on a straight shot to the darkness below.

Without all the time in the world you had to think in haste, otherwise you'd forget it—or it'd forget you. As we fell, I thought about that day on the cliff when Kallie slipped. The two of us had intended then to cliff-jump for the hell of it, but her near fall had terrified her into backing out. Then the boys appeared, and Embry imprinted, so we left to think up a better way to spend our time that wasn't being near cryptic cultists. I wished this could have been as simple as then, but Victoria wasn't like the pack. She was a killer that pursued innocents for the thrill of the hunt, her current hunt dividing her attention between wolves with sharp teeth and a silly, defenseless princess. A princess that was taking me down with her. And as the two of us—princess and damsel—went plunging into the waters below, suddenly every worst feeling in the book ignited in my body. I almost screamed, but the open, scathing air cut me off. I closed my eyes and pretended I wasn't an inch from losing everything.

We hit the water hard. My head cracked against hers as the two of us were torn violently from each other's arms in different directions; I swore only for that same water to fill my mouth. I choked on it and desperately thrashed in the waves that pushed and pulled, instinctively curling in on myself when my flailing limbs found no objects in their vicinity to cling to. I had immediately been deprived of a chance at thwarting fate, thwarted already of safety in the swarm of currents that came to swallow me whole, tearing bubbles of breathless protests from my mouth as I floundered more and more, harder and harder.

At once I was hit with a thread of inexplicable fear; it built quickly into a quilt, blanketing me in paralytic panic. I knew I was going to die. I was certain of my fate when I first opened my mouth to be greeted with a menace of saltwater. A crescendo of screams came bursting from the gutters in my head, unheard by everyone. No one listened—not Arcus, not Dakota, not Roman, not Taha Aki. There was no knowing which way was further in the darkness and which way was the light when everything was drowned in black. I kicked out with every intention to hunt for a lifeline, even though four of my senses were lost to me. I threw my arms into a swimming motion, aiming for what felt like north. I didn't know direction, only able to go with my instincts and hope they weren't leading me astray. My feet hit a hard object that didn't feel like flesh. I couldn't see or hear, so I kicked out again, feeling something then wrap around my shoe. It tugged hard, enough that I felt pain shoot through my frozen legs. I went downward instead of upward, so I kicked I frantically kept kicking until I was exhausted, until my legs were weighted like lead. My lungs burned and burned. They felt heavy. I wanted to give in and let the water take me, but something kept screaming, No. Fight.

I didn't want to fight anymore.

I was losing oxygen from the faint store I'd already been derived of and my bleary eyes were darkening. It felt like my lungs were going to burst. Thrashing underwater I felt myself sinking further as the unknown object dragged me to my death, but the fight in me was draining. I could feel my limbs exhausting, my mouth slackening, my nose involuntarily snorting gulps of water like water was its life-source. Everything hurt violently until it didn't hurt at all. Until a numbness spread, living me impassive to a fate of expiry.

I was pulled deeper into the water. At the climax of what appeared to be my imminent death, I had no thoughts. My mind was blank.

Everything became a searing black, then a white. My consciousness faded—and there was nothing in the way of Death coming to collect my soul.

I hoped he could swim.

Black...

And black...

And black...

Then blazing ache, blazing itch. Blazing pain.

Awaken.

I was revived to the feeling of lips pressing hard against my own. It was the only perceptible feeling aside from the water in my lungs—and it was a strange, strange feeling. I fought the water, but I didn't fight the pressure.

I was heavy. I was numb. I was dying.

I was also alive. Dying was a close cut from being dead, and I couldn't be dead yet if I was still able to feel. Perceive pain, recognize it.

The lips disappeared from my mouth like they had been ripped away. I screamed around the water in my chest, only to cough. I coughed until I choked, and then I sputtered, and I wheezed, and I hacked. The numb feeling had evaporated and a dull ache took its place, inflaming me in licks of fire that burned and seared. My arms were laid to my sides, so heavy I couldn't lift them; even my fingers refused to twitch. I wanted to wrap them around my waist but that was impossible—they were so heavy they couldn't even move an inch. I just wanted that comfort of my stomach, exposed to unknown enemies and an environment that had the ability to take me while I was vulnerable, being covered. My arms were shields—

The cotton clouding my ears slowly went away, replaced by the sound of waves lapping at the shore. I could feel body heat that wasn't my own, so close it encased me like a warm sweatshirt. My wet clothing stuck to me like a second skin. My thoughts were jumbled and haywire. I didn't know where my memories began and where they ended.

So many things to notice, but the one thing I should have cared about was the water still drowning my lungs. I had hacked away, but the water didn't seem to notice. Nor care.

My chest pumped with the pressure, and another flood of water gushed from my mouth. Water just kept coming, enough water I was practically filling a small puddle in the area surrounding my head. A flower blossomed. As my lungs uprooted their poison, each gush became a petal.

Eventually I stopped hacking. I was completely exhausted but also just so fucking relievedto be alive. I hadn't expected this ending when I was fighting for my life in the currents. Really, I thought I was going to die. I still felt like I was dying.

This can't be real.

This isn't real.

"What the hell happened?" That was the first thing I heard that wasn't characteristic of the beach—and it was a voice. It sounded like Sam Uley's. I wondered, half-deliriously, what he was doing here delaying my death. I was set to die, wasn't I? Death didn't have a time limit, but I always thought you'd see the could-haves in the aftermath of your soul leaving your body. Every alternate ending left for you to watch and feel nothing about how your life was prematurely terminated. The dead didn't have regrets. I am not safe. No one saved me. Bella and I were now stuck at the bottom of the water, ready to decompose and become sirens for the fish to violate. "Jacob?"

"I don't know," another voice said, this time sounding like Jacob Black. I recognized it in an instant. "I followed Bella's tire tracks here, and I heard her scream. They were both in the water when I dove in. I honestly thought Alissa was dead when I saw her face. She looked like a corpse."

Sam groaned and I heard sand crunch underneath careless, heavy feet. Sand. "She's been trying to call our phones since yesterday. I don't know if we could have prevented this if we answered. God, first Harry and now this."

"Bella would have still almost drowned," Jacob pointed out, not sounding half as vindictive as I expected. He was just stating a fact. "And what do you mean she's been trying to call? I didn't get one."

"I doubt she has your number," Sam said quietly. I felt him crouch down beside me, and I held back a flinch when he applied a finger to my aching neck and pressed down. He had strong fingers chiropractors would kill for. "It feels strong. I worry what Paul will do when he finds out."

Feeling more awareness return to me, I blinked open my eyes. The intense light of the overhead clouds made me recoil back into the sand. I slowly let myself open them again, able to see more clearly. I looked over at Sam, who hovered beside me uncertainly in the seconds after my abrupt return to awareness; he seemed shocked to see me aware. He had supernatural hearing so he had to have known I wasn't unconscious—but it was logical for him to have assumed I was still totally out of it. I was surprised I recovered so quickly. I thought I was dead, and now I wasn't. I wasn't even unconscious and my memory was still intact. I was alive. The sky was dark, rainclouds trailing in to hail down rain like bolts of bathwater.

"D-don't tell him," I said through chattering teeth. Paul would need to hear it from my mouth; I didn't even want to think about his meltdown if he happened to come to conclusions, all because Sam said something the wrong way. Paul would take it wrong regardless. Both too stubborn for their own good. "H-he'll... he'll... o-overreact."

Yeah, overreact. He was still angry with me over a lot of different things, but that didn't mean he'd want me hurt or dead. We cared for each other far too much for that.

Sam's eyes softened and he gave a curt nod. I was stunned when he pressed his hand to my soaked hair, petting down like my father used to do when I was young and having nightmares about Mom's reanimated body. "Are you alright? Jacob said you were in rough shape."

I heard him mention the state he found me in and now with my awareness returning to me, I tried conjuring an image of what I must have looked like when I surfaced in his arms. She looked like a corpse, Jacob had said. Sam's question was a stupid one that he probably asked because he was too fragile in his own expression to unmask what fear he felt about my brush with death. He was the calm, levelheaded one. No ruffled feathers, no twitch of the upper lip. The only person he'd fall apart over was Emily, but I could see cracks here, like he knew I almost died and he didn't want to imagine what a world without me looked like.

Just because you think they don't like you doesn't mean they don't like you.

Just because I felt unloved and like no one cared for what I had to say didn't mean—

I looked to my other side, seeing Jacob's body overtop Bella's as he whispered an unheard plea. She, like me, was alive—but unlike me she was still traumatized and locked in a state of semi-consciousness. I couldn't tell whether she was even awake.

I turned my eyes back to Sam and inhaled, cutting myself off at the sudden daggers in my chest. I blinked wildly, to fend off tears—but that awful, painful feeling was unavoidable. "S-sorry," I choked out. "I-I think it's p-plain to s-see... I'm not... a-alright."

Sam nodded and the fingers threaded in my hair froze. "I know, Alissa. What happened?"

"V-Victoria," I said quietly.

Both Sam and Jacob stiffened. Jacob slid to a crouched position and turned to stare at me, managing to be completely unreadable.

"What?" Sam asked, sounding more like an Alpha this time than he did when expressing his concern.

"S-She chased me... w-we fell in," I explained. My explanation was choppy and vague, but I knew they would still be able to catch the gist. My brain swarmed with images, of discovering the Archives' lost entries, of running into the woods to find someone who would help me find Dad, of Victoria's chase that led me straight to looking over La Push Beach where I almost— "I-I was looking for y-you... to tell you—my D-Dad's crazy. H-he took my c-car and dis-disappeared."

Sam rubbed a hand over his face and looked away while Jacob chewed his lip and returned my stare. Neither were happy with what I told them, their hatred of vampires showing.

Sam ultimately regained his composure. "Soon as Bella's awake, take her home," he told Jacob, then looked at me with pity. Even underneath the dim sunlight, my body cold and numb and turned on its side, my head cycling like a carousal, I knew he felt sorry for me. I knew he was thinking of everything that was said to me and all the emotions that bubbled under the surface, leaving me to scream where no one could see or hear. "Bring Alissa around Harry's. I would take her myself, but—"

"I got it," Jacob said quickly. His expression was dense when he glanced at me, something there he had never looked at me with before. I had no time to truly adjust to it and decode his eyes; he swiftly looked away, meeting his Alpha's eyes instead. "She's not in a state for that."

Sam gave me one last soft touch to my hair. He detangled his fingers and stood up. I watched and somewhat returned his wave, wiggling my fingers where they were stationed by my side, as he jogged back off to the surrounding woods. His back disappeared in the green and brown thicket and my boundless gratitude to be alive met a boundary. There wasn't a single thing about today that had gone the way I planned—and every part of me that was once thankful I hadn't died now just wanted to sleep.

Jacob had his fingers grazing Bella's face when my attention centered again on him, away from the thoughts that came to drown me as the water had tried to. I swallowed and cleared my throat. "W-What did he mean about Harry?"

He didn't look me in the eye when he tilted his head in my direction, so I expected the worst. I didn't even brace for it. "Harry had a heart attack."

I blinked.

Harry had a heart attack.

"What?"

Jacob scratched the back of his head, averting his eyes. "Yeah. I don't know the full story, but yeah. Sam went to your house to tell you and your Dad, but you weren't there obviously."

I bit my lip until I was close to cutting it open. "F-Fuck..."

Very much fuck. This entire situation was one big fuck. I was fucked; everyone was fucked. Since midnight I had been bruised and battered, abused by several different antagonistic forces all assembling to give me my deserved label as a punching bag. Now I was hearing that Harry, someone nice and kind and helpful, was potentially dead. Where was Earth's kindness in any of this?

Whatever entity watched over us was cruel. I didn't much believe in the hocus and pocus of the world, but I did believe I had no control over my own death. I could pretend I controlled my life—but even that was an unfunny joke that held no truth, only the lead of poisonous self-delusion.

I collapsed inward, every impenetrable wall crumbling down around me. I knew Jacob was still watching, one hand over Bella's throat for a sign of rousing awareness, but I didn't care. I really, really didn't care anymore. He could watch me flounder and fall apart all he wanted; it wouldn't change that he was the wolf who saved me and I was the drowning girl immune to the mocking barks of dogs.

I glanced at him, then looked down at my side at the granules of wet sand that moved in unison and broke apart in unison. It would take every remaining fight in me along with Jacob's brawny support to get up on my feet. No matter how much I thought I was independent the unmissable big bangs and the gone-with-the-wind mistakes kept drilling into me that I wasn't. I was a dependent. I was sixteen-years-old and my bark was worse than my bite. I was failing to protect myself and fell further and further in deep hate with my own lackluster performances. I hated myself and I hated that I couldn't do anything worthwhile, even at the expense of my own life.

My memories and my emotions were all jumbled from my near drowning "stunt". I looked back over at accident-prone Bella's body, washing I had the Breath of Life to kick-start her system again. I had to leave. I couldn't speak the way I usually did to tell Jacob everything, but I was sure he'd see there was an urgency more urgent than comforting the Clearwater family. Being there for them, joining them in their grief. I knew it was selfish, but Richard was still my father. I knew if I didn't go after him he'd do something he would never be able to reverse—and there would be no hope of retracting Dakota's memories and saving him from the darkness that Taha Aki should have taken with him in his premature exit from the mortal realm.

"I-I have to go... Jacob," I said, enunciating every word. I spoke with a tremor. My fingers, like octopus arms, were shaking and trembling—a cast of deadly cold encasing them. I saw Jacob's eyes flicker there, but it wasn't my new issue of freezing to death I was referencing; I had to go because my father was unpredictable and implacable. No one but me understood the consequences of letting him roam loose. They didn't see him when he took me down, incapacitating me long enough I only roused in the morning, still semi-conscious. Jacob would think I was being ridiculous and tell me Dad was probably just in Port Angeles to cool off from our fight. He'd probably even wave away the bruised evidence on my arms and stomach, citing Victoria as the only likely cause.

"Why?" asked Jacob, meeting my eyes. I almost visibly recoiled at those eyes returning my gaze; there was no heat or resentment there. I'm imagining things, I thought. He's always an asshole. He's more of an asshole than Jared. The longer I stared the more certain I was that I was lying to myself.

I sighed. "My Dad."

Jacob narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, I heard you say he was crazy. How, though?"

"He's not himself," I said, holding myself still to avoid stuttering. But that was hard, almost impossible; my teeth were chattering no matter what I tried to keep the chills at bay. "H-He has some of D-Dakota's memories. H-he hurt me pretty b-bad then left. I don't know w-where he is right n-now."

Silence came and slathered us in discomfort, but it was a discomfort unlike any that had ever come between us.

He pities you, whispered one cynical voice.

He saw you almost dead and now he can't look at you without seeing a corpse, another told me.

I closed my eyes then opened them again. The picture in front of me remained the same: Jacob staring at me unabashedly, without contempt.

Bella coughing disrupted our contest. He immediately went to her aid while I sat and basked in the momentary privacy.

Jared would have a cow the size of Paul's. While Sam hadn't verbalized his fear of Jared's wrath as he did Paul's I knew he wasn't blind to our bond. Jared, while angry at me most of the time, would never want to see me hurt, as I never wanted to see him hurt. We were siblings and we used to be best friends. If Kim didn't exist we probably could have still been best friends after he apologized for being a douche who cared for what his friends thought; unfortunately she was a tear in the painting. I still wanted to see us mend our relationship. Maybe he'd eventually wizen up and realize Kim wasn't his everything. I mattered. Our father was fucking crazy, and at a time like this I needed my brother. I needed him more than he needed me.

He won't be half as concerned as you are about your father because he doesn't understand anything about Dakota or about being an emissary. He'll think what Jacob inevitably will.

"Are you okay, Bella? Can you- can you hear me? Do you hurt anywhere?" Jacob frantically pounded Bella with questions.

Bella's body was shaking, like she was in a freezer. "J-just my throat," she croaked.

Jacob pushed her hair back like Sam did to me, his face so close it obscured Bella's own from view. "Come on, I'll take you home. Get out of this rain," he said. "Unless you think you need a hospital. Do you need—"

"No!" Bella said loudly. "Home is good. I-I just need to rest, I think. Wait, Jake. Is Alissa...?"

Jacob shook his head and lifted himself up from where he practically covered Bella. In the process I was revealed to her, and the two of us stared. She had a bewildered expression on her face and there were clumps of hair glued to her forehead. I stared until I noticed a streak of blood where her hairline because a dark brunette mane. I was thrown violently back into when we collided with the sea, when I hit her hard enough to wrench the breath from my mouth in the form of blasphemous words. I yelled into the water, only for it to yell back. She went sailing in one direction while I sunk in another.

Her open eyes asked a question, like she was too scared of the answer to ask it aloud. Maybe she thought she was seeing my ghost.

I shifted onto my side, grabbing a handful of sand and letting it disintegrate from my hand like hourglass seconds. "I-I'm sorry... for ramming into you," I said.

"It's okay," Bella said softly. Her voice came out like a rasp. "I was going to fall anyway."

Jacob didn't know exactly how it happened, how we both entered the water at the same time. He probably initially thought it was cliff-jumping until I mentioned Victoria. I was surprised when he didn't immediately burst into a wolf to maim and claw me for being the reason she went crashing into the sea. We almost drowned, both of us. Jacob was full of surprises. This was around the time when he would let me know just how much he hated me; instead he was silent. Abrasive and sticking out like a sore thumb, but silent.

I would explain in his truck. I would explain everything to the best of my ability.

I didn't feel threatened in his presence today.

It was a nice, albeit unthinkable change.

Jacob took me to my house first, with it being on the way to Bella's, leaving the car running while I jogged inside to retrieve my phone. I had asked him to stop there so I wouldn't be empty-handed at Harry's. It was a good thing I left my phone like I did; imagining it short-circuited and filled with water was a horrible reality I hated to think about. Quite frankly, it probably would have jerked from my pocket and sunk to the seafloor if I had thought to bring it. I wasn't tech-savvy and my phone wasn't an extension of my hand, but I did feel like it was a necessary precaution to have with me when I was away from civilization or alone with it. It came in handy when I didn't have the resources to reach out physically to someone. All around, phones were useful—and I wasn't about to waste money on a new one. Thank God I didn't have to.

I had retrieved my Motorola from where it was unplugged and turned off on my unmade comforter, when something unusual happened. A sound unlike anything I remembered in the past while slipped by my defenses, quiet and muffled through the walls. Placing it was a real head-scratcher. It took a minute, but I finally recognized it as the house phone. We never used it and no one called it. I had forgotten what it sounded like. It was a loop of harsh thrum-thrum-thrums that teleported me to a time and place I didn't like thinking about. Fuck childhoods.

I went, body like a crashing temple, to the source. Dad kept the house phone in his study. I went in and ignored the Taha Aki portrait he had strung up in the corner. The house phone was sat on the desk and just kept ringing and ringing and ringing—

Until I picked it up.

"Hello?" I said into the receiver, distrustful of the recipient.

"Hi, yes, is this Alissa Cameron?"

"Yeah," I said. Immediately I was on my guard, not recognizing the gravelly voice. "Who's this?"

"Hi, Ms. Cameron. This is Bill Terry, calling from the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. Someone found your wallet near the luggage claim and gave it to one of our employees earlier today. I'm not sure whether you were getting on a flight or returning from one, but I thought you'd like to know so you would be aware that it's in safe hands. By any chance is there someone in the area who you'd trust picking it up?"

I came to a brash conclusion as the man uttered those words, a conclusion that staggered me enough for the house phone to slip from my fingers.

He had taken more than my keys. He took my wallet, too.

He's at an airport.

He's going to leave.

People cross state lines and oceans on planes.

He's going on a plane. He's going on a fucking plane.

He's—

Dakota was like a beaten dog that would come back to its owner with every punch and kick. Obedient to a fault.

Dakota was indoctrinated to think he was respected when he was nothing more than an asset. He didn't know what he wanted, so he wanted what Roman wanted. He was a dog. He's still a dog.

He was confused.

Is my father confused?

It was with painful reluctance I accepted that my father had fled to the Volturi.

And I would have to go after him if I ever wanted to see him again.

A/N:

Guest: Thank you so much! That makes me so happy to hear and I hope you continue to laugh and enjoy the story :)

RubberDuckiez: I hope you know I appreciate your reviews so much. You review so consistently and I fail to give you the appreciation you deserve! But I'm here now and thank you for reading and taking time out of your day to tell me what you think. I hope this double update was worth it!

Guest 2: Thank you, that means so much! Richard also scares me lmao, hopefully Alissa figures out a way to help him!

.2020: Thank you for always reviewing, I appreciate it a lot! I hope you're doing well 3

Reginablackv41: Thank you! And don't worry, Alissa's not going to just keep taking it- eventually she'll tell it how it is and be honest. The pack thinks she's invulnerable and after a certain event in this chapter they won't be thinking like that again anytime soon. Now that she's getting better at using her powers, will they be able to talk shit and get away with it? Nope, not ever again! Thanks for being so consistent in your reviews, I appreciate it :))

i can't believe i'm almost to eclipse. just two more chapters and we're there. and by the way, next chapter is a doozy. will richard be a newborn when we meet him again—or will alissa find him just in time? what do you think will happen when she meets the volturi for the first time?

I'm so fucking excited for next chapter u ain't even know. Ugh I love writing this book

Any inconsistencies or grammar mistakes will be cleaned up when I edit, which might not be for a while with this book... By the way, I fucked up in a previous chapter and made it sound like they were going into April. NO, IT IS CURRENTLY MARCH. I'm loosely following the Twilight timeline atm.

Eclipse is going to be so... fucking... fun. Literally like, you don't even know. If you want a hint, let's just say we'll be seeing a LOT of Roman and Dakota. Dakota may even become a friend ;) I actually love them both so hopefully you guys do too. I hope I made them feel real, even if they are—well—vampires.