Midnight Sun

by Stephenie Meyer

"We're ready for the check, thank you," I told her, my eyes on Bella.

  The waitress's breathing spiked and she was momentarily--to use Bella's phrasing--dazzled by my voice.

  In a sudden moment of perception, hearing the way my voice sounded in this inconsequential human's head, I realized why I seemed to be attracting so much admiration tonight--unmarred by the usual fear.

  It was because of Bella. Trying so hard to be safe for her, to be less frightening, to be human, I truly had lost my edge. The other humans saw only beauty now, with my innate horror so carefully under control.

  I looked up at the waitress, waiting for her to recover herself. It was sort of humorous, now that I understood the reason.

  "Sure," she stuttered. "Here you go."

  She handed me the folder with the bill, thinking of the card she'd slid in behind the receipt. A card with her name and telephone number on it.

  Yes, it was rather funny.

  I had money ready again. I gave the folder back at once, so she wouldn't waste any time waiting for a call that would never come.

  "No change," I told her, hoping the size of the tip would assuage her disappointment.

  I stood, and Bella quickly followed suit. I wanted to offer her my hand, but I thought that might be pushing my luck a little too far for one night. I thanked the waitress, my eyes never leaving Bella's face. Bella seemed to be finding something amusing, too.

  We walked out; I walked as close beside her as I dared. Close enough that the warmth coming off her body was like a physical touch against the left side of my body. As I held the door for her, she sighed quietly, and I wondered what regret made her sad. I stared into her eyes, about to ask, when she suddenly looked at the ground, seeming embarrassed. It made me more curious, even as it made me reluctant to ask. The silence between us continued while I opened her door for her and then got into the car.

  I turned the heater on--the warmer weather had come to an abrupt end; the cold car must be uncomfortable for her. She huddled in my jacket, a small smile on her lips.

  I waited, postponing conversation until the lights of the boardwalk faded. It made me feel more alone with her.

  Was that the right thing? Now that I was focused only on her, the car seemed very small. Her scent swirled through it with the current of the heater, building and strengthening. It grew into its own force, like another entity in the car. A presence that demanded recognition.

  It had that; I burned. The burning was acceptable, though. It seemed strangely appropriate to me. I had been given so much tonight--more than I'd expected. And here she was, still willingly at my side. I owed something in return for that. A sacrifice. A burnt offering.

  Now if I could just keep it to that; just burn, and nothing more. But the venom filled my mouth, and my muscles tensed in anticipation, as if I were hunting...

  I had to keep such thoughts from my mind. And I knew what would distract me.

  "Now," I said to her, fear of her response taking the edge off the burn. "It's your turn."

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  Theory

  "Can I ask just one more?" she entreated instead of answering my demand.

  I was on edge, anxious for the worst. And yet, how tempting it was to prolong this moment. To have Bella with me, willingly, for just a few seconds longer. I sighed at the dilemma, and then said, "One."

  "Well..." she hesitated for a moment, as if deciding which question to voice. "You said you knew I hadn't gone into the bookstore, and that I had gone south. I was just wondering how you know that."

  I glared out the windshield. Here was another question that revealed nothing on her part, and too much on mine.

  "I thought we were past all the evasiveness," she said, her tone critical and disappointed.

  How ironic. She was relentlessly evasive, without even trying.

  Well, she wanted me to be direct. And this conversation wasn't going anywhere good, regardless.

  "Fine, then," I said. "I followed your scent."

  I wanted to watch her face, but I was afraid of what I would see. Instead, I listened to her breath accelerate and then stabilize. She spoke again after a moment, and her voice was steadier than I would have expected.

  "And then you didn't answer one of my first questions..." she said.

  I looked down at her, frowning. She was stalling, too.

  "Which one?"

  "How does it work--the mind reading thing?" she asked, reiterating her question from the restaurant. "Can you read anybody's mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family...?" She trailed off, flushing again.

  "That's more than one," I said.

  She just looked at me, waiting for her answers.

  And why not tell her? She'd already guessed most of this, and it was an easier subject that the one that loomed.

  "No, it's just me. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone's... 'voice' is, the farther away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles." I tried to think of a way to describe it so that she would understand. An analogy that she could relate to. "It's a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It's just a hum--a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear. Most of the time I tune it all out--it can be very distracting. And then it's easier to seem normal," --I grimaced-- "when I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."

  "Why do you think you can't hear me?" she wondered.

  I gave her another truth and another analogy.

  "I don't know," I admitted. "The only guess I have is that maybe your mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I'm only getting FM."

  I realized that she would not like this analogy. The anticipation of her reaction had me smiling. She didn't disappoint.

  "My mind doesn't work right?" she asked, her voice rising with chagrin. "I'm a freak?"

  Ah, the irony again.

  "I hear voices in my mind and you're worried that you're the freak." I laughed. She understood all the small things, and yet the big ones she got backwards. Always the wrong instincts...

  Bella was gnawing on her lip, and the crease between her eyes was etched deep.

  "Don't worry," I reassured her. "It's just a theory..." And there was a more important theory to be discussed. I was anxious to get it over with. Each passing second was beginning to feel more and more like borrowed time.

  "Which brings us back to you," I said, divided in two, both anxious and reluctant.

  She sighed, still chewing her lip--I worried that she would hurt herself. She stared into my eyes, her face troubled.

  "Aren't we past all the evasions now?" I asked quietly.

  She looked down, struggling with some internal dilemma. Suddenly, she stiffened and her eyes flew wide open. Fear flashed across her face for the first time.

  "Holy crow!" she gasped.

  I panicked. What had she seen? How had I frightened her?

  Then she shouted, "Slow down!"

  "What's wrong?" I didn't understand where her terror was coming from.

  "You're going a hundred miles an hour!" she yelled at me. She flashed a look out the window, and recoiled from the dark trees racing past us.

  This little thing, just a bit of speed, had her shouting in fear?

  I rolled my eyes. "Relax, Bella."

  "Are you trying to kill us?" she demanded, her voice high and tight.

  "We're not going to crash," I promised her.

  She sucked in a sharp breath, and then spoke in a slightly more level tone. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

  "I always drive like this."

  I met her gaze, amused by her shocked expression.

  "Keep your eyes on the road!" she shouted.

  "I've never been in an accident, Bella. I've never even gotten a ticket." I grinned at her and touched my forehead. It made i
t even more comical--the absurdity of being able to joke with her about something so secret and strange. "Built in radar detector."

  "Very funny," she said sarcastically, her voice more frightened than angry. "Charlie's a cop, remember? I was raised to abide by traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree trunk, you can probably just walk away."

  "Probably," I repeated, and than laughed without humor. Yes, we would fare quite differently in a car accident. She was right to be afraid, despite my driving abilities... "But you can't."

  With a sigh, I let the car drift to a crawl. "Happy?"

  She eyed the speedometer. "Almost."

  Was this still too fast for her? "I hate driving slow," I muttered, but let the needle slide another notch down.

  "This is slow?" she asked.

  "Enough commentary on my driving," I said impatiently. How many times had she dodged my question now? Three times? Four? Were her speculations that horrific? I had to know--immediately. "I'm still waiting for your latest theory."

  She bit her lip again, and her expression became upset, almost pained.

  I reigned in my impatience and softened my voice. I didn't want her to be distressed.

  "I won't laugh," I promised, wishing that it was only embarrassment that made her unwilling to talk.

  "I'm more afraid that you'll be angry with me," she whispered.

  I forced my voice to stay even. "Is it that bad?"

  "Pretty much, yeah."

  She looked down, refusing to meet my eyes. The seconds passed.

  "Go ahead," I encouraged.

  Her voice was small. "I don't know how to start."

  "Why don't you start at the beginning?" I remembered her words before dinner. "You said you didn't come up with this on your own."

  "No," she agreed, and then was silent again.

  I thought about things that might have inspired her. "What got you started--a book? A movie?"

  I should have looked through her collections when she was out of the house. I had no idea if Bram Stoker or Anne Rice was there in her stack of worn paperbacks...

  "No," she said again. "It was Saturday, at the beach."

  I hadn't expected that. The local gossip about us had never strayed into anything too bizarre--or too precise. Was there a new rumor I'd missed? Bella peeked up from her hands and saw the surprise on my face.

  "I ran into an old family friend--Jacob Black," she went on. "His dad and Charlie have been friends since I was a baby."

  Jacob Black--the name was not familiar, and yet it reminded me of something...some time, long ago... I stared out of the windshield, flipping through memories to find the connection.

  "His dad is one of the Quileute elders," she said.

  Jacob Black. Ephraim Black. A descendant, no doubt.

  It was as bad as it could get.

  She knew the truth.

  My mind was flying through the ramifications as the car flew around the dark curves in the road, my body rigid with anguish--motionless except for the small, automatic actions it took to steer the car.

  She knew the truth.

  But...if she'd learned the truth Saturday...then she'd known it all evening long...and yet...

  "We went for a walk," she went on. "And he was telling me about some old legends--trying to scare me, I think. He told me one..."

  She stopped short, but there was no need for her qualms now; I knew what she was going to say. The only mystery left was why she was here with me now.

  "Go on," I said.

  "About vampires," she breathed, the words less than a whisper.

  Somehow, it was even worse than knowing that she knew, hearing her speak the word aloud. I flinched at the sound of it, and then controlled myself again.

  "And you immediately thought of me?" I asked.

  "No. He...mentioned your family."

  How ironic that it would be Ephraim's own progeny that would violate the treaty he'd vowed to uphold. A grandson, or great-grandson perhaps. How many years had it been? Seventy?

  I should have realized that it was not the old men who believed in the legends that would be the danger. Of course, the younger generation--those who would have been warned, but would have thought the ancient superstitions laughable--of course that was where the danger of exposure would lie.

  I supposed this meant I was now free to slaughter the small, defenseless tribe on the coastline, were I so inclined. Ephraim and his pack of protectors were long dead...

  "He just thought it was a silly superstition," Bella said suddenly, her voice edged with a new anxiety. "He didn't expect me to think anything of it."

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her twist her hands uneasily.

  "It was my fault," she said after a brief pause, and then she hung her head as if she were ashamed. "I forced him to tell me."

  "Why?" It wasn't so hard to keep my voice level now. The worst was already done. As long as we spoke of the details of the revelation, we didn't have to move on to the consequences of it.

  "Lauren said something about you--she was trying to provoke me." She made a little face at the memory. I was slightly distracted, wondering how Bella would be provoked by someone talking about me... "And an older boy from the tribe said your family didn't come to the reservation, only it sounded like he meant something different. So I got Jacob alone and I tricked it out of him."

  Her head dropped even lower as she admitted this, and her expression looked... guilty.

  I looked away from her and laughed out loud. She felt guilty? What could she possibly have done to deserve censure of any kind?

  "Tricked him how?" I asked.

  "I tried to flirt--it worked better than I thought it would," she explained, and her voice turned incredulous at the memory of that success.

  I could just imagine--considering the attraction she seemed to have for all things male, totally unconscious on her part--how overwhelming she would be when she tried to be attractive. I was suddenly full of pity for the unsuspecting boy she'd unleashed such a potent force on.

  "I'd like to have seen that," I said, and then I laughed again with the black humor. I wished I could have heard the boy's reaction, witnessed the devastation for myself. "And you accused me of dazzling people--poor Jacob Black."

  I wasn't as angry with the source of my exposure as I would have expected to feel. He didn't know better. And how could I expect anyone to deny this girl what she wanted? No, I only felt sympathy for the damage she would have done to his peace of mind.

  I felt her blush heat the air between us. I glanced at her, and she was staring out her window. She didn't speak again.

  "What did you do then?" I prompted. Time to get back to the horror story.

  "I did some research on the internet."

  Ever practical. "And did that convince you?"

  "No," she said. "Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then--"

  She broke off again, and I heard her teeth lock together.

  "What?" I demanded. What had she found? What had made sense of the nightmare for her?

  There was a short paused, and then she whispered, "I decided it didn't matter."

  Shock froze my thoughts for a half-second, and then it all fit together. Why she'd sent her friends away tonight rather than escape with them. Why she had gotten into my car with me again instead of running, screaming for the police...

  Her reactions were always wrong--always completely wrong. She pulled danger toward herself. She invited it.

  "It didn't matter!" I said through my teeth, anger filling me. How was I supposed to protect someone so...so...so determined to be unprotected?

  "No," she said in a low voice that was inexplicably tender. "It doesn't matter to me what you are."

  She was impossible.

  "You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not human?"

  "No."

  I started to wonder if she was entirely stable.

  I supposed that I could arrange for her to receive the best
care available... Carlisle would have the connections to find her the most skilled doctors, the most talented therapists. Perhaps something could be done to fix whatever it was that was wrong with her, what ever it was that made her content to sit beside a vampire with her heart beating calmly and steadily. I would watch over the facility, naturally, and visit as often as I was allowed...

  "You're angry," she sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything."

  As if her hiding these disturbing tendencies would help either of us.

  "No. I'd rather know what you're thinking--even if what you're thinking is insane."

  "So I'm wrong again?" she asked, a bit belligerent now.

  "That's not what I was referring to!" My teeth clenched together again. '"It doesn't matter'!" I repeated in a scathing tone.

  She gasped. "I'm right?"

  "Does it matter?" I countered.

  She took a deep breath. I waited angrily for her answer.

  "Not really," she said, her voice composed again. "But I am curious."

  Not really. It didn't really matter. She didn't care. She knew I was inhuman, a monster, and this didn't really matter to her.

  Aside from my worries about her sanity, I began to feel a swelling of hope. I tried to quash it.

  "What are you curious about?" I asked her. There were no secrets left, only minor details.

  "How old are you?" she asked.

  My answer was automatic and ingrained. "Seventeen."

  "And how long have you been seventeen?"

  I tried not to smile at the patronizing tone. "A while," I admitted.

  "Okay," she said, abruptly enthusiastic. She smiled up at me. When I stared back, anxious again about her mental health, she smiled wider. I grimaced.

  "Don't laugh," she warned. "But how can you come out during the daytime?"

  I laughed despite her request. Her research had not netted her anything unusual, it seemed. "Myth," I told her.

  "Burned by the sun?"

  "Myth."

  "Sleeping in coffins?"

  "Myth."

  Sleep had not been a part of my life for so long--not until these last few nights, as I'd watched Bella dreaming...

  "I can't sleep," I murmured, answering her question more fully.

  She was silent for a moment.

  "At all?" she asked.

  "Never," I breathed.

  I stared into her eyes, wide under the thick fringe of lashes, and yearned for sleep. Not for oblivion, as I had before, not to escape boredom, but because I wanted to dream. Maybe, if I could be unconscious, if I could dream, I could live for a few hours in a world where she and I could be together. She dreamed of me. I wanted to dream of her.