"Beep. Beep. Beep. We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel—"

"Son of a bitch!" Click.

Bella was wrapped up in blankets. She glanced away from her cartoons.

"Still no luck?" she prodded.

"Yeah," I grunted. "Phone lines must be down or something."

"Hmm. There's a big snowstorm in the midwest. If that's where you're calling, it may be the problem."

That was where I was calling. Except I'd been there less than half a day ago and things were clear as a whistle—wait, maybe not. How long had I been on holiday from the knock-and-drag?

"What's the date?"

Bella frowned. "February 28th." She glanced at the clock. "Nope. March 1st now."

That sounded about right.

"Can we check the news? I wanna know the weather."

"Sure." Bella slinked her arm out and snagged the remote.

"CNN live report," announced a bobble-head blonde. "Air Force One has touched down safely in Iraq, where President Bush will address American troops within the hour. Jim, give us the story."

My eyes dilated more than Octomom's cervix. Right date. Wrong year. Unless, of course, Obama had changed his name and caught the clap from Michael Jackson. But it looked as if I'd been Doctor-Who'd back to 2006! And then, it hit me. I'm not sure why I remembered such a crappy, insignificant footnote in American history, except for the fact that Sammy'd yammered my ears off about it all the way from El Paso to Tucson, but I did. Bella was acting out scenes from New Moon when I'd found her. And that book wouldn't be out till September. But that, along with all the other stuff, meant...

Oh. Holy. Crap.

"You okay?" Bella asked—the real Bella, Isabella freaking Swan!

"Uh," I swallowed.

"Can you turn on the AC?" Bella got out of bed and stretched. "I've had problems regulating my temperature ever since James bit me. My bottom's cold and my top's hot. I mean, I guess it must be psychological, since the venom was hand-sanitizer. But I can't help it. And I'm babbling. Sorry."

"Uh huh," I nodded. "Yeah."

Keep it together Dean! Keep it together!

I shambled for the AC unit. It was like walking through the spinny-barrel at Ripley's Believe It or Not. And I believed it alright. What had enough mojo to rip the multiverse a new one and flush you down the cosmic crapper? One word: angels. Cas? Nah, he'd never do this. Gabriel? Probably, but Lucifer had Louisiana deep-fried his ass once it smooched up next to ours. Who the Heaven was it?

Suddenly, Motorcycle-gal was back on my mind. She looked a lot more sinister in hindsight. First there was the trailing. Then speeding ahead once she knew our destination. And she'd stopped at the very first motel, like she was anticipating I would too. I couldn't help but think I'd been profiled. Why didn't I catch it? On a scale of one to bad? Very bad. Hairs prickled as I rashed out in goose-pimples.

"Hey Bella?" My back was to her. "Can I ask you a question?"

No response.

"Bella?"

Again, silence.

I gulped. "Motorcycle-gal's right behind me, isn't she? She's got a hand over your mouth and a weapon drawn."

"The name's Kate." The icy nozzle of a gun jabbed my neck. "Mind telling me about that revolver of yours?"