I'm out of the house in a second, down into the small driveway. Sure enough, there is Julie, her back to me, looking at sky. Her hair has gotten longer; it's now in a ponytail, but still falls to halfway down her back. She's wearing a dark grey T-shirt and short jean shorts, her hands in her back pockets.

She doesn't seem to have noticed me yet, which is strange, because I'm sure she can smell me.

"Jules," I call out gently, taking a step forward.

She whips around and, upon seeing me, her eyes get very wide, her mouth forming a small o.

"Hi," I say. I think about how I must look and sound to her; my voice, which used to be shards of glass, is now melted gold. My eyes are, thankfully, are no longer blood-red, but they are an almost violet color—Carine says it's the last step before my eyes will turn the caramel-yellow of my siblings'.

"Beau?" she breathes. I can tell it's a question. My features are much sharper, like somebody took a photo of me before and edited it in PhotoShop. I'm probably barely recognizable. My own parents wouldn't recognize me now; my heart sinks and I let it go.

"It's me." I tell her, taking another step forward.

We're still yards apart, nowhere near touching, but she jumps back as if I'm right before her eyes. "I can't believe it," she says. "My mom warned me you would look . . . but this?"

"Yeah," I allow, rubbing my neck with my hand. It's an old, human gesture, but I haven't been able to shake it. "It's a lot to get used to."

She doesn't respond, just shakes her head and look as though someone's punched her in the gut.

"I'm still me," I say. "Nothing's changed." She doesn't respond. "I'm glad to see you."

This thaws her out a little, and her face softens, just a little. "I'm actually not here for a social call."

For some reason, this makes my insides twist; somehow, I'd hoped she was here to see me…

"There's been some killings," she tells me, putting her hands in her pockets again. I wonder if it's a nervous action. "Two people in Port Angeles, one in Ozette. Whoever's doing it is getting closer."

I feel my brows furrow, and I begin, "OK, are the police—"

"It's a vampire," she interrupts bluntly. "That's why I'm here." She clears her throat and shifts her weight. "My mom thought it might be . . ."

She looks at me through the hood of her lashed, not wanting to meet my gaze, and, just like that, the realization dawns on me. I suddenly feel like I need to sit down. "Me," I finish.

She looks at her feet (which are bare), and I can see the blood rush to her cheeks—my throat burns for a second, but I ignore it. "Well," she stammers, "my mom knew about how young vampires are . . . how they can't really control themselves . . ."

I don't say anything.

Suddenly, Edythe is beside me. Her bronze hair is in a loose bun, delicate strands falling around her face. She looks at me with such warmth I might as well be on fire.

She turns to Julie, and her eyes are now flat, distant. Someone who didn't know her would probably miss the slight tremble in her voice when she says, "It's Victor."

An icy chill, like someone dumped freezing cold water down my back, rips through me. "Of course," I breathe. Even though I don't breathe, in this moment I feel like I know what it must be like to drown.

"Who?" asks Julie, glaring slightly at Edythe. Her eyes flicker between us.

"He's . . ." starts Edythe, "a vampire," she finished obviously.

"Well how do you—" Jules begins to ask.

"He's the mate of the vampire who killed me." The words are harsh, but true; I would have certainly died if Joss hadn't bitten me, if Edythe hadn't finished the job.

Jules's face melts like wax. "Oh, Beau, I had no idea. I'm sorry." And she sounds it.

I shake my head. "I'm okay," I tell her. I turn to Edythe. "How did Archie not see him coming? Will he be coming for us next?"

Her face twists a little. "Archie did see Victor coming, actually. We've been trying to hunt him, but lately the visions keep getting messed up. Probably because the wolves have been hunting him."

I hear all the words, but the ones I get stuck on are Archie saw him coming, we've been hunting him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask it so softly I think she wouldn't have been able to hear me if she still had a heartbeat.

"I wanted to protect you," she says just as softly, placing a marble hand on my forearm. "You've been through so much. I wanted to take care of this before you'd even have to know."

I understand where she's coming from, I do; if I thought there was something out there that could cause her pain, I would want it eradicated before it got the chance to. Still, I shake my head slightly and what comes out of my mouth is, "You should've told me."

Jules clears her throat, and we both look back at her. "That was the other reason I came," she says. "If it turned out that the killers weren't, well, you guys, then I thought it might be a good idea to get your help."

"You want to team up with us?" I ask incredulously. The Quileute werewolves have made their contempt for the "cold ones" very plain.

Edythe answers instead of Jules. "Her pack isn't happy about it. Sam and the others were violently opposed of Jules coming here at all."

Jules appraises Edythe, and for a second, I see the hatred that their pack usually displays so openly. "I was told there was a mind-reading blood-sucker here."

The warmth that Edythe showed me is totally gone, and her smile is lethal. "In the flesh," she purrs.

Jules rolls her eyes. "If we're going to work together, I would appreciate if you would not poke around in my mind. I don't really know where your hands have been, thanks."

Edythe scoffs. "Funnily enough, I don't think we actually agreed to help you."

Jules opens her mouth to respond but I cut in. "We'll do it," I tell her. "We'll help. Or, at least, I will. I can't speak for Edythe or everyone else, but I'll help catch Victor, whatever it takes."

Jules nods curtly, but her shoulders seem to relax a little.

"If Beau's going, I'm going," says Edythe. She grabs my hand.

Jules nods once again and says, "We'll be in touch." She takes off towards the trees and, before too long, even I can't see her.