Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

just because it takes time doesn’t mean it’s not happening

Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.

Taylor gasped and woke up. The plane flying from New Orleans to Port Angeles was beginning its descent. She sighed, and her gag reflex immediately kicked in — her seatmate had eaten onion rings before the flight, which, obviously — a disgusting idea. She also saw him devouring a cheeseburger. That did not help the case. 

She took a few breaths, finished the water in her creaky plastic cup, and folded up her tray table. Their flight had already been delayed due to weather, but finally, the Airbus 310 hit the wet ground of Port Angeles, bounced, touched down again, and began to brake. Taylor joined in the applause half-heartedly and stared out the window, half-blocked by her neighbor’s stomach. She raised the seat back.

Outside, it was drizzling, as always in Port Angeles.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our plane has landed in Port Angeles, Washington. The temperature outside is fourteen degrees Celsius.” Taylor turned off the flight attendant’s voice and rubbed her nose bridge. Why the fuck were they using Celsius? 

Around her, people impatient to get off were standing up, and Taylor slowly followed instinct — reaching for her backpack and coiling up her headphones. She took a breath. Then jumped a bit in her seat and rolled her stiff shoulders. She quickly said her goodbyes to the sticky neighbour and shuddered and the thought of ever travelling with him again. 

Most of her boxes had already arrived in Forks, already carried into her room — Uncle Charlie had sent her photos every time something was delivered. Funny, considering she only had three boxes, two bags, and one suitcase she decided to bring herself.

It had taken CPS a while to locate Uncle Charlie after the accident.

A nurse at the hospital had told her in confidence that when Charlie learned what had happened, he’d flown to New Orleans and caused such a scandal that at least three staff members were fired for unprofessional conduct. They said he tore into them and reminded everyone why they made him a sheriff. There were fines, too. It took him a full two weeks to find and bring Taylor home. All that time, she’d been unconscious, hooked to IVs and machines, not knowing she would wake up an orphan. No one knew if she would wake up at all. She did. And regretted it every single day. 

The Port Angeles airport was small and gray — hardly fitting for the crowd of tourists jammed inside. Taylor grabbed her suitcase and headed toward the exit where she and Charlie had agreed to meet. He was already waiting.Still the same stocky man, with the mustache her mother always giggled about, proudly wearing his sheriff’s uniform. After his appointment, Mom had hung his picture on the wall and told every guest that it was her brother. She was so goddamn proud of him.

Taylor, teary-eyed, threw her arms around him.

“Hey, kid,” Charlie said awkwardly. “How was your flight?”

“My seatmate ate a cheeseburger before takeoff,” she said quietly. “And onions. It was not fun.”

Charlie gave a strained chuckle, placed his hands on her shoulders, and pushed her back a little.

“Let me look at you, kid,” he murmured. “Taylor, God, Taylor…” Charlie shook his head and, in a surprisingly gentle gesture, pulled her close again. “We’re no New Orleans, but I’ll make this place home for you, you hear? We’ll get through it. We’ll make it.”

Taylor sniffled, unexpectedly touched. Uncle Charlie had always been her favorite (and only) uncle — almost like a father — but he had never been this openly emotional. Grief changes people. Losing his little sister had changed him. It hit him harder than he let Taylor see during their calls.

“We’ll make it,” she echoed nasally. Charlie stepped back and rubbed his face.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Bella decided your arrival deserves a celebration. She’s been cooking all day.”

Taylor smiled weakly.

“How’s she doing?”

“Between us,” Charlie sighed, “I think she’s only happy you’re coming because you’ll distract attention from her and her new boyfriend.”

Taylor frowned, then her expression softened.

“Right, she’s been here a while now,” she said.

“If it helps, they started dating a month after she moved here.”

“It’s not Jake, is it?” Taylor gasped. “Tell me it’s not Jake. He’s two years younger than her!”

“Not Jake,” he assured her. “Edward Cullen. One of the new doctor’s kids in town. Well, not so new anymore — this is their third year.”

“Someone moved to Forks voluntarily? No offense,” she added quickly, but Charlie just chuckled.

“He and his wife have five kids. Two daughters, three sons.”

“His wife’s a freaking hero.”

“Language. They’re all adopted,” Charlie went on. “Dr. Cullen’s young, but he’s got the means to do good — and he does. I admire him, really. Not everyone could live like that.”

Taylor nodded.

“Okay, so… your man-crush sounds great, “Charlie spluttered, “but… dating after just a month?” she said doubtfully. “How did you not go crazy?”

“Oh, I do go crazy,” Charlie shrugged. “But forbidding it would only make things worse. Not long ago, they fought… she ran away from home and…” He rubbed his nose bridge. “It was a long six months. I’m… I’m glad you’re here. Even if… like this.”

Charlie waved for her to buckle up, and Taylor settled into the seat of the police cruiser. The leather smelled pleasantly of forest and aftershave. Taylor flicked her wrist, and the crooked side mirror adjusted slightly, giving Charlie a better view. He raised his brows in surprise.

“I thought you decided not to use magic anymore,” he said carefully.

“Magic has its own opinion on that,” Taylor sighed, leaning back. “The less I use it, the more often it just… bursts out.”

Charlie hummed in understanding.

On the drive from Seattle to Forks, Charlie managed to tell her all the latest news about everyone Taylor hadn’t seen in months. She and her mother had always tried to visit for the holidays, though it didn’t always work out. Sometimes they’d even convinced Charlie to come down to New Orleans. Bella got a boyfriend. Rachel and Rebecca Black were both off to their respective colleges. Sam and Leah broke up, he is with her cousin now (scandalous).

Forests flashed by, rain-slicked cars, and stands selling vegetables she always passed without a glance. That was one thing New Orleans never had — Forks’ damp greenery and heavy mist. Her mother had always been rooted in New Orleans — born there, raised there, in tune with the city’s rhythm — but Taylor had always felt drawn to Forks. As if something here called to her, urging her to stay a little longer.

It was easier to blame higher powers. It’s always comforting to have someone or something to hold responsible for the dark streaks in your life. Her mother had chosen to save others at the cost of her own life — she saved them, and died herself. There was no point blaming fate for the choice she made. It was easy to understand. Hard to accept. 
Forks looked deserted. They passed almost no other cars, and the school was quiet. Workday, Taylor thought. Perfect time to arrive. Speaking of which—

“Shit! You’re the sheriff, Charlie! I could’ve gotten here on my own!” Taylor blurted.

“Relax,” Charlie waved her off. “I’d be a lousy uncle if I didn’t meet you. And Bella… well, I was worried she’d run off to Cullen again. She spends almost all her time with him. Your arrival at least pulled her away for a bit.”

Taylor swallowed. She hadn’t seen Bella in about eight years. They both visited Forks back then when Renée still let her visit her father. Surely her cousin had changed since then — maybe her looks, maybe her personality. Maybe she was a cheerleader now? Taylor sighed.

“You’ll get along,” Charlie promised.

“Of course,” Taylor snorted. “’Cause this family’s so famous for their warmth and love of newcomers.” Charlie laughed and ruffled her blond hair. 

Somehow, Charlie’s house seemed smaller than Taylor remembered. Six months ago, she’d been thrilled imagining the staircase to the second floor, the small bedrooms under the roof, and that narrow window facing the woods.

There wasn’t much space. Charlie slept upstairs with Bella — their rooms side by side, sharing a bathroom. But since Taylor’s arrival, they’d changed things around. She still felt awkward about it, but Charlie insisted he’d long planned to turn his office into a bedroom anyway. And it made things less uncomfortable between him and Bella — she was a girl, after all, and he was a grown man who had no idea what a curling iron was or why anyone needed three bottles of shampoo and conditioner when one “3-in-1” did the job.

Bella was waiting on the porch. 

She looked completely different after all this time, yet somehow exactly the same. Her hair was longer, thicker, falling in dark waves; but she still fidgeted, nervously wringing her hands, though her soft pink lips curved into a small, pleased smile. To Taylor’s surprise, she waved brightly.

“How was your flight?” Bella asked a little shyly.

“My seatmate had onions and cheeseburgers and refused gum three times,” Taylor snorted dryly. “How’s your summer going, now that you’re still the new meat in town?”

“Feels like I’m a main circus freak,” Bella joked weakly. “Need help?”

“I’ve got it,” Charlie said. Taylor grabbed her backpack.

“Lunch’s ready,” Bella fussed. “Come on, you must be starving. Airplane food’s awful.”

“We had that really weird tuna sandwiches,” Taylor agreed.

She stepped inside and looked around. The first floor hadn’t changed much — someone had neatly laid warm blankets over the couch and chairs, and one had been moved closer to the window to clear space near the sofa. Probably Charlie’s doing for Billy Black’s visits.

Bella stumbled slightly and caught the doorframe.

“At least something stayed the same,” Taylor chuckled.

“I won’t be around long,” Bella said quietly. “Edward and his family invited me to a barbecue.”

“By the way, who’s Edward?” Taylor asked, sitting down at the table. “You never mentioned him in your letters.”

“My boyfriend,” Bella blushed.

“Yeah, I got that, Bells.”

“Edward Cullen, he’s… in my biology class.”

“I’m sure dissecting frogs is super romantic, but that’s not exactly a detail, Isabella,” Taylor glanced at her sideways. Bella blushed even more.

“We just… we kept running into each other,” Bella groaned, covering her face. “It’s like fate. And then he… helped me, almost saved my life. We have so much in common!”

“Like what?”

“Classics, and… he’s incredibly smart! And romantic… I’ve never felt anything like this.”

Taylor narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“And how did his family take this… fast romance?”

“Well,” Bella sighed, “not everyone was happy about it. His sister Rosalie, she… oh, she still hates me. But the rest are amazing, really kind. They have a beautiful house and—”

“You actually talk to them?”

“Stop interrogating me,” Bella snapped, and Taylor raised her hands.

“Sorry,” she said slowly, forcing a smile. “It’s just… you never mentioned him before, and now you’re so…”

“So what?”

“In love,” Taylor said quickly. “I’m just curious — I’m happy for you!”

Bella sighed and nodded. Then she checked the time.

“I’ve got to go,” she said. “Edward’s waiting for me.”

And right on cue, a car horn sounded outside. Taylor and Charlie exchanged looks. Then both nodded silently, and Bella waved goodbye before disappearing through the door.

“Charlie, what the absolute fuck was that?” Taylor burst out.

“I know.”

“She’s brainwashed!”

“I know how she sounds, Tay.”

“Charlie!”

“I can’t do anything about them!” Charlie suddenly shouted. “Nothing, Tay!”

She shook her head.

“We’ll figure something out,” Taylor muttered.

The forest behind the Swan house was unlike anything else Taylor had seen in Forks. Charlie’s ancestors had once been loggers, and from their property a narrow trail led into the woods — safe enough for wandering. Taylor used it on her third day in Forks.

Bella really was wrapped up in Edward, whom Taylor still hadn’t met. Every time she asked for an introduction, Bella refused and ran off to his family’s place. In a way, Taylor couldn’t wait to see this elusive Edward once school started, but she also had absolutely no desire to meet him. He really sounded like a dick.

Her July — and August — were filled with the forest, Charlie, and June Goldberg, who spent summers with her grandmother next door. June kept laughing at Taylor’s grumbling about her cousin’s boyfriend. At one point, Taylor had to physically cover her own mouth to stop herself from saying ’Edward’ — it felt like his very name had some strange power over their family, as if the air itself had to be filled with thoughts of him.

After a couple of weeks of that madness, Taylor banned herself from mentioning the boy at all. His influence over Bella was strong enough already. Taylor even carved a few protective runes around their house to keep out anyone with ill intent.

Then, for good measure, she buried dried celandine around the property line. They didn’t need any uninvited guests.

By late August, Forks’ weather had changed. The days grew sunnier, and one of those bright days brought a knock at the Swans’ front door.

Taylor, being closest, opened it cautiously — then threw it wide.

“Jacob!” she exclaimed. Jacob’s eyes went wide, and he pointed at her.

“Taylor!”

“Jacob!”

“Taylor!”

A few seconds of shouting later, they were hugging like they hadn’t seen each other in years. They didn’t. And she missed him a lot.

“Bella never said you were here!” he said, sounding almost hurt.

“Charlie should have. I…” Taylor stopped smiling. “I moved here, Jake.”

His expression turned serious too.

“I heard about Melissa,” he said quietly. “I’m so, so sorry. She was an amazing person. We all miss her.” Taylor pressed her lips together and cleared her throat.

“Thanks.” They stepped inside. “So, what brings you here?”

“Came to drag Bella outside,” he chuckled. “Haven’t seen her in a while. Where is she?”

“With Edward again,” Taylor scoffed. “I barely see her anymore. She leaves in the morning and comes back at night.”

“I see.” Jacob’s face soured.

“While you’re here—”

“I’ve got to run,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Just wanted to ask what her plans were. Emby and I were gonna work in the garage.”

Taylor pursed her lips and nodded.

“You‘re going to the end-of-summer bonfire?” Jacob asked.

“If I’m invited,” she smiled coyly.

“Of course you are, Tay” he snorted.

Jacob — smiling, long-haired, and hopelessly in love with Bella — looked at her with puppy eyes, and Taylor smiled back.

“Then I’ll come.”

“Great!”

He was about to leave when Taylor called after him.

“You said ‘Embry and I,’” she repeated, and Jacob’s face froze. “Where’s Jared?”

“He’s got a new crowd,” Jacob muttered. “They’re all hanging out with Sam Uley now.”

“Sam? He’s…” Taylor tried to remember who that was. “A few years older than you guys, right?”

“Dragged Jared into his gang or whatever the fuck they do,” Jacob said, his fists tightening until his knuckles turned white. “They jump off cliffs, get tattoos.”

“How many of them?” Taylor winced.

“Used to be just Sam and Paul. Now Jared too. It’s only a matter of time before someone else joins.”

“Who is Paul?”

“You wouldn’t remember him,” Jacob nodded. “When you visited, he was always running around the woods with girls or throwing parties. Paul Lahote.”

“Don’t remember him,” Taylor admitted. “But I’ll keep that in mind. Be careful, Jake. Please.”

He nodded, and they said goodbye.

A gang? In La Push? The Elders would have knocked some sense into them if anything like that was actually happening.

Taylor watched Jacob leave. She’d seen him back in July, just after she arrived — from her window. She hadn’t been able to get out of bed then, but she saw him anyway. Jacob had grown at least a few inches. His anger showed more clearly now. He was… different, but not there yet.

Quileute shapeshifters, Taylor realized at last. She shook her head. Just what they needed. Poor Jake — he had no idea what was coming.

Then she caught her breath and stared at Uncle Charlie. He nodded gravely.

The only reason the wolf gene would start awakening again in La Push was if their tribe needed protection — the same as in ancient times.

Vampires.

Fucking vampires.

Chapter Text

How stupid of me… to forget how far I’d come just because I still have a long way to go…

Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.

Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.

Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.

Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.

Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.

Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.

Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.

Taylor sighed and opened her eyes.

The room was dark. She never drew the curtains because she was like a chihuahua — if the light went out, that meant it was time to sleep. But now, in utter blackness, not even the moon lit anything. There were always clouds in Forks, hiding this town from the world.

The clock on the dark-wood nightstand read five a.m. Mocking digits blinked a muted green and hinted that she wouldn’t sleep any longer.

Taylor moaned quietly so as not to wake Bella; her cousin had incredibly keen hearing, something Taylor had never noticed before. She didn’t want to get into another argument with her — Taylor had somehow managed to rile her in a way she hadn’t seen in a long time.

A couple of days earlier, Bella had come home angrier than usual and accused Taylor of sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. Taylor hadn’t been sticking her nose into anything (this time) and hadn’t been doing anything questionable either, so it made sense to ask what the problem was. Bella had only managed to squeeze out:

“Edward doesn’t come to see me at home anymore!” she hissed, low so Charlie wouldn’t hear.

“I don’t mind!” Taylor said, puzzled. “If he wants to come over, you don’t even have to ask me. I’ll just… hang out in my room, Bella…” she sighed, “this is your house. I—I don’t want you to feel awkward or uncomfortable with your own boyfriend here!”

Bella groaned.

“I don’t want to discuss this anymore!”

Taylor didn’t understand at first, but she was secretly glad. If Edward couldn’t get into the house, he must have had bad intentions.

She sighed and turned onto her side. Sleeping a few more hours was unlikely. She didn’t want to go to the shower, even though the sheets under her were damp with sweat. She threw off the blanket, washed her face quietly in the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and sighed again like an old woman who didn’t know what to do with herself.

The forest, Taylor thought.

In the woods she could at least calm down.

Sweatpants, a tank top, a sweater, a jacket, boots. Taylor left a note for Charlie on the kitchen table so he’d know his niece hadn’t disappeared, and headed for the woods.

Inside — silence. Complete. Taylor had never had so little noise in her head. There was always something — either thoughts, or a shopping list, or pieces of memories of the crash that kept coming back in torn fragments. 

Taylor felt like she would never really know what had happened on that road.

She hadn’t been allowed to see the camera footage, and then, overhearing Charlie, she learned that the cameras had conveniently turned off exactly at the moment of the accident. Taylor vaguely remembered the impact, the screech, the fire, her mother falling beside her, another family she’d hurried to help. She remembered a hand reaching out to her, but the details of what exactly had happened on that road… well, there was nothing.

One of the nurses confessed that her mother shouldn’t have received the injuries she did. For a while they even suspected Taylor had been driving, but her injuries didn’t match the scene either, and soon the police adopted the theory that Melissa decided to help everyone around her — except herself.

What exactly had happened to her last living parent?

A whine.

Taylor jerked her head up and stared into the still-dark woods ahead. The hell was that?

A whine. Another one. A howl. A whine. A howl. A whine.

She hadn’t imagined it. She took her phone out of her pocket, turned on the flashlight, and moved forward along the trail toward the whining. Reaching a small fork that led into a denser part of the preserve, Taylor opened her mouth and dropped her phone to the ground. It went dark.

On the grass, under an enormous, thick tree, lay a wolf the size of Bella’s pickup if not bigger. Its dark-silver fur shimmered in the weak beam of her fallen flashlight, and it whimpered, licking a paw stained with blood and still stuck in a trap.

Taylor measured the distance, picked up the flashlight, and coughed softly. The wolf immediately lifted its head toward her. It sniffed, then bared its teeth. God, Taylor had never seen anything like it, but the wolf was… simply magnificent, even lying there and whining in pain.

“Hi,” she whispered weakly. Then she nodded at its paw. “I can help.”

The wolf growled defensively. The fur along its neck bristled, and it snarled, snapping its jaws.

“There should be instructions,” Taylor said quietly. “Traps always have instructions. I can open it. It’ll hurt, but—then you won’t be… here anymore.”

The wolf seemed to consider this. Then it cautiously nodded and closed its mouth.

“Quileute,” Taylor murmured. “I should’ve guessed such a huge wolf couldn’t be… ordinary.” He barked something again, but she ignored it. “I thought there were no traps here. This is a preserve.”

The animal nudged the trap with his nose, as if inviting her to look. The metal was old, caked with dirt and rust, and there was a label on the side. The trap had been made and cast almost a hundred years ago.

“And you managed to get caught on it,” Taylor snorted. She lifted her head and swallowed, only then noticing how close she was to the creature.

His dark eyes were fixed on the ground, on the injured paw, just inches from her face. Taylor swallowed again. The wolf raised his muzzle, and when their eyes met something clicked inside her. She quietly gasped; the wolf swallowed painfully. Then his muzzle twisted again and he whimpered.

“Right,” Taylor muttered. “Trap. Okay.” She aimed the flashlight at the mechanism and began clearing the dirt around its base. With difficulty, she found the instructions.

The wolf whimpered.

“Fuck,” she cursed. Most of the instructions hadn’t survived a century in the ground; the letters were washed away, the label partly gone, and the only thing still visible was a big warning — do not put your hands in the trap - so helpful. “Okay, wait a second, I have an idea.”

She crouched and examined the trap from the other side, and… bingo! A brand and model.

Mobile internet, still considered a luxury somewhere, was used actively in New Orleans. Her phone was connected to it; staying in touch with her mother had been necessary in case of unexpected exorcisms or neighborhood ghosts, so she’d kept it. Mom had paid for the account until she turned twenty-one, depositing a large sum after a rich client asked for her help so they wouldn’t have to worry about it.

The instructions for opening this trap were easy to find. The procedure, however, was not so simple. Taylor sighed and set the phone down. She pulled her hair into a bun so they wouldn’t get in the way and rolled up her sleeves. Then she stopped.

“You’re not going to try to eat me when I open it, are you?” she asked cautiously. “I mean… I know you’re… well, you’re human when you’re not a wolf? But I don’t really understand what goes on in a Quileute’s head during the phase,” she babbled, and the creature’s eyes widened with every word. “I’m a witch,” Taylor assured him, then mentally smacked herself; admitting it and revealing herself was very stupid, though necessary. “I mean, I won’t betray you. Not that I know who you are under that fur. But… I won’t tell. Really.”

He squinted at her suspiciously, but something in his eyes — something about this wolf — told Taylor he wouldn’t pounce. Maybe that odd feeling in her chest? That click she’d felt when their eyes met.

“I… suppose I—” Taylor waved her hand, “I’ll tell you later. Ready?”

The wolf nodded. His jaws clenched.

Valve. Plate under the paw. Open the trap.

Valve. Plate under the paw. Open the trap.

Valve. Plate under the paw. Open the trap.

Taylor repeated it aloud a few times, then set to work.

The valve turned with difficulty and screeched, her hands smeared with rust and dried blood, but she continued. The hardest part was getting under the wolf’s injured paw and pressing the plate until it clicked. It whimpered; one of its claws grazed her hand — the creature probably didn’t feel it much. Then Taylor grabbed the clamps and, rising onto her knees, pushed them down and apart with all her strength (which wasn’t much). Slowly, with a grinding sound, they opened, and the wolf, whining desperately, pulled his paw free. His claws scraped Taylor’s arm again, but she didn’t notice. She staggered back and fell hard on her butt. The trap snapped shut once more.

Shit. That was so close. 

For a few moments they both breathed heavily; the wolf licked its paw. Taylor hissed.

“Ouch,” she said, throwing her head up. 

On her hand was a short scratch from pressing the plate; on her forearm were three thin lines from his claws when the trap was open.

The animal whimpered again, staring at her scratches. He took a few steps back, seemingly frightened by his own actions, and kept staring at the wounds as if unable to look away.

“It’s fine, they’re tiny, and…they don’t hurt that much,” Taylor waved it off. “They’ll heal, like yours will,” she promised, then sighed. “I… I really won’t tell anyone I saw you,” the wolf continued to stare at her hand.

She swallowed and tried to cover her arm with the sleeve of her jacket. Taylor felt her skin slowly, with a faint hissing, knit itself back together; the blood congealed and tightened, forming a scab. She shrugged, and the wolf whimpered again, then suddenly growled.

He rose to all four feet, and Taylor opened her mouth. Fuck, he was huge. Literally enormous. Taller than her when she stood at full height, but now, with Taylor sitting on the ground, her nose was level with his—shoulders? Paws? She didn’t know wolf anatomy that well.

The animal pressed his muzzle close to her and nudged her shoulder with a wet nose. Taylor, barely breathing, cautiously raised her hand and placed it between the Quileute’s ears.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered. The wolf whined softly, pressing his nose into her hand, but Taylor shook her head and stroked him along the muzzle. “I’ll be okay. You need to go.”

The wolf tilted his head and pointed to the ground. Taylor frowned. He pointed to the ground again and nudged her shoulder with his muzzle. Again. And again. One more time.

“Are you asking if I’ll still be here?” Taylor asked carefully. The wolf nodded. “I will. We’ll see each other again. It’s time for you to go.”

He pressed his muzzle to her shoulder one last time and, straightening up, limped toward La Push. Taylor guessed that, by the time he reached the settlement, his paw would be healed. It was good to be a Quileute; bandages and wraps awaited her though.

She sighed and headed home. The first day of school promised to be fabulous.

Forks High School looked exactly as Taylor remembered it from driving by — gray and wet. The walls seemed to have leaked long ago, but no one had bothered to repaint them. The parking lot — wet and dull, with a handful of mismatched cars around which students lingered despite the drizzle and chill. She rubbed the hand where the recent scratches hid under her jacket sleeve and got out of the car.

Nobody paid much attention to Bella and her truck anymore, but the presence of someone new definitely stirred them up.

Another new girl?

That’s the sheriff’s niece — don’t you remember her?!

Taylor had heard it all that summer when she occasionally joined Bella and Charlie at the diner. Though usually she sat with Charlie more. Bella often forgot the time or canceled, preferring to spend time with Edward. 

His family, by the way, was already there, and it was how Taylor first saw the vampire clan.

Equally beautiful, icy statues, they waited near the far end of the parking lot by the spruces. A tall, blonde model and a dark-haired tough guy talked without much interest, while the pixie-like girl and the blond vampire glanced her way occasionally. Edward, the last of the group, didn’t even look at the newcomer; his piercing golden eyes devoured Bella.

Taylor grimaced. Bella got out of the truck and stopped beside her.

“Can you find the administration office yourself?” she asked. Taylor stared at her cousin in surprise — she’d promised to help and now couldn’t take her eyes off Edward. Just to try — Taylor said cautiously,

“I was hoping you’d help. I think I’ll get lost.”

“Great!” Bella said, and went straight to Edward. The fuck?!

Taylor stared at her back in disbelief for a long moment. Bella rarely walked fast, but now, seeing Edward, she didn’t even watch her feet as she rushed to him. His brothers and sisters waited for Bella, and only the tall blond girl rolled her eyes in irritation. Taylor blinked. Well, that explained a lot.

She shifted her gaze to the school. Jesus, did they have to stare so much?

Taylor shook her head, adjusted her bag more comfortably, and headed for the main building. She’d manage.

At least that’s what she thought until she realized that, in spite of its size, Forks High felt like a fucking labyrinth. She couldn’t figure out the room numbers because after 101 came 108, lockers blocked the halls, and after every staircase you had to go up yet another flight.

“Need some help?” a voice asked, and Taylor turned. The girl next to her had big round glasses like Harry Potter had and a thick red braid she’d somehow managed to plait. Her round face flushed when she caught Taylor’s gaze.

“Yes, I… I need the administration. Can you show me?”

“It’s right around the corner — come on,” the girl waved. “Olivia. Olivia Baker,” she introduced herself. “You must be Taylor? The sheriff’s niece?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re already eighteen—,” Olivia added.

“Will be in three months,” Taylor nodded, pressing her hand to wolfs scratches. Their presence on her skin soothed her oddly.

“We probably have the same schedule. I’ll wait for you — there’s the door,” and she pointed to a room behind glass doors.

“You don’t have to wait,” Taylor assured her. “I’ll make it.”

“It’s fine,” Olivia promised. “Besides, my friends will kill me if I leave you to Jessica Stanley’s clutches.”

“That does not sound great.”

Olivia laughed and shook her head.

She actually waited for Taylor, which was nice considering how Bella had ditched her that morning. Olivia turned out to be in five of Taylor’s eight classes; she was also the student who organized the theater at the high school, which made Taylor lower the volume on her friendliness. Taylor had met theater kids in New Orleans before. It never ended well. They were either batshit crazy or loved to micromanage everything and everyone.

When Olivia learned Taylor wasn’t into theatre, she simply helped her find the right classrooms and fluttered off to her friends, leaving Taylor to fend for herself. Great.

Taylor spent the first classes in shock at how many people wanted to know more about Bella Swan and her relationships. Like, what? Taylor saw that girl obsessing over Edward’s presence and hair, it was not impressive at all.

They approached Taylor during breaks, sat near her in class, and asked questions as if she were a damn Wikipedia about Isabella Swan — and she had no idea what the hell was going on with her.

At lunch Taylor didn’t go to the cafeteria. She grabbed the sandwich she’d made at home and flopped onto the floor near the photography classroom with a groan. She intended to join the club anyway, might as well get acquainted with this place.

Looking back, Taylor could’ve predicted how things would unfold. Besides, she looked obviously pathetic. Her blond hair had puffed out in Forks’ constant dampness, and the sandwich looked—frankly—a little dead, since she and Charlie had made it together.

Right then two figures hovered over her. The first was a girl in her economics class, redbraided and freckled. The second was a tall curly-haired guy who constantly adjusted glasses too large for his narrow face — they sat together in biology.

“Emma,” the redhead introduced herself.

“Taylor,” she swallowed.

“This is Luis,” the curly-haired guy nodded. “You’re new, right?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you sitting here?” Emma continued.

“I have lunch?” Taylor asked, puzzled.

“But you’re not in the cafeteria,” Emma noted.

“I like it here better; it’s quiet.”

Luis mumbled something under his breath, then glanced at her, pushing up his glasses.

“Planning to join the photo club?” he asked. Taylor frowned. “I saw your form when we sat in biology. We’re in the club. Actually, we’re… almost the whole club.”

“He’s lying,” Emma nudged him. “There are a bunch of other people.”

“Yes, who uses the darkroom for completely different things. Like sex,” he said haughtily. “Or to get high.”

“Don’t listen to him.”

“Listen to me.”

Taylor couldn’t help it — she laughed and choked on her sandwich.

“Well, look at that,” Luis said, “she can smile.”

Emma sat down next to her and pulled out an apple.

“Jessica Stanley’s already telling everyone that you were sent to Forks from some elite school,” Emma said. “And that the Cullens paid you to keep an eye on Bella.”

“WHAT?” Taylor choked. “Bella’s my cousin!”

“We know,” Luis put in. “You used to come here in the summer with your mom. I remember her. How is she?”

“Um—”

She’s gone. She’s dead. I miss her.

“So the Cullens didn’t pay you?” Emma interrupted her sweating about answering an awkward question.

“I don’t even know them,” Taylor said. “And I don’t want to, to be honest.”

“Hmm,” Luis adjusted his glasses again. “Photo club meets Mondays and Thursdays at four,” he stood, then tugged Emma up with him. “You don’t have to bring your own camera; we supply them.”

“And that’s it? You came just for that?” the blond scoffed.

“No,” Emma relented. “But we have to run, and we’ll discuss the rest on Thursday. You’ll come?”

“Yes,” Taylor squinted at them suspiciously. Emma and Luis didn’t feel friendly, but they didn’t smell of malice either. “I’ll be there.”

“See you then,” the redhead waved and they left.

Taylor glared at the last piece of sandwich and cursed.

What the fuck was that?

“…and then they just left!” Taylor cried into the phone. Julian laughed hoarsely on the other end, and the sound of him tossing and turning on his bed rustled through the line.

“You need friends, remember?” he said softly like she was some recluse who lived in a forest and talked to fucking bunnies.

“I don’t need friends,” Taylor hissed.

“When you have no one to talk to, you turn into a squirrel on crack cocaine trip. It’s insane. And you can’t be a hermit — it draws attention to you,” he reminded her.

Taylor moaned.

In New Orleans she’d left more than her mother’s grave and the old wrecked Fiat still sitting in a junkyard waiting for its fate, stained with their blood and pain.

She’d also left the coven, led by Julian, who was now sacrificing sleep to listen to her complaints about the new school — about the stupid cafeteria and the staring people, about Bella handing over the truck keys and saying Edward would bring her home, about teachers who apparently had never been taught how to be teachers.

Julian had taken the mantle of coven leader after his father’s death five years ago, when they were all still teenagers — the only warlock group without an adult at the head. If New Orleans was up in arms, Julian had probably cooked up something. Taylor knew that Libby, his girlfriend, was probably sprawled on the soft sheets with him. Libby could sleep through an earthquake — and she once had.

“I just want to go home,” she whispered. 

Julian, from the sounds, had gotten off the bed and walked away. There was the hum of traffic in the handset.

“Do you hear it?” he asked.

“Jules—”

“Do you hear it?” the coven leader asked again, more insistent.

Taylor closed her eyes.

Beneath the hum of traffic she heard voices — sellers and carnival barkers in the streets, passersbys and tourists. She heard the rustle of flowers on the balcony of Julian and Libby’s apartment. She heard an organ in the nearby church, a few saxophones from a bar across the street. She heard the creak of staircases and the breath of the city. The noise she missed so much, the one she had come to live with over the years.

“New Orleans is here,” Julian said softly. “It will always be here and it won’t go anywhere. We’re here,” Taylor sobbed. “If you need us, I’ll raise every one of them and make them get on a plane to Washington. I’ll bring them, just say a word.”

She nodded to herself, and Julian’s voice continued whispering the stories of what she had missed — how much she’d missed.

When her tears ran out, he sighed.

“By the way,” the mage said. “How are your new friends?”

“They’re not my friends,” Taylor replied. “Bella hangs out with them.”

“Yes, but?”

“I don’t know, Jules. I don’t talk to them. Edward… is a complete creep. I don’t know about the others yet.”

“And your new grey friend?” There was a smile in his voice. “He certainly knows more than Bella’s future in-laws.”

Taylor shook her head, then remembered Julian couldn’t see her. She hesitated.

The wolf, however friendly, was a Quileute who was definitely not on her side. He was unlikely to be an alpha — she would have felt that power — and there couldn’t be too many Quileuts now. Jacob had mentioned only a couple of people running around with Sam (who was supposedly the alpha), so Taylor didn’t know exactly whom she’d helped in the woods.

“How much can I trust him?” she asked quietly.

“As much as your gut tells you,” Julian answered helpfully. Then he sighed as if speaking to an incompetent child. “You did the right thing by not hiding from him — you know the laws.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” the blond snapped.

According to the laws of the High Coven, witches were obliged to identify themselves to all nature beings as possible allies or advisors, especially when on their territory. Taylor shook her head and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“I just—” she bit her lip. “What if they won’t talk to me at all?”

“Are you afraid of making friends or what? You need human contact, otherwise your only acquaintance will be an animal. Or worse. A tree.”

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong?”

“You’re right.”

“Listen,” Julian’s voice turned serious, almost businesslike, the way he talked to everyone outside their coven, “you’re on foreign territory and you saved one of them. I know… really, Tay, I know it’s hard. But you have to get used to being in Forks.”

“Is that your way of saying I annoy you?”

“It’s my way of saying I love you, and that we’re all here to support you, whatever you decide. But you’re a witch on someone else’s turf. If you want your life to be peaceful, you need to make contact. And also,” he lowered his voice, “you’re worried about Bella. They can help with that.”

“I don’t want to use other people.”

“Can’t you hear me?” Julian snapped a bit then took a calming breath. “I’m not asking you to use them. I’m asking you not to be a hermit. If your gut tells you wolves can be trusted, trust them. Don’t scare them away. Share with with. They’re spirit warriors; someone will know something.”

“Okay,” Taylor sighed. “Okay. Fine. Fuck you.”

Julian snorted.

“You’re a stubborn sociophobe, did you know that?”

“I love you too,” Taylor rolled her eyes.

“I have to go,” Julian said. “But Tay… I sent the books you asked for. What you said about Bella… I don’t like the sound of it. And if you need a contact in Volterra—”

“I’ll call you,” she promised. “But first I want to understand what’s really going on here.”

“All right. Be careful.”

“Always am.”

“Liar,” he said fondly.

It poured on the La Push reservation, as usual, but Taylor didn’t care much about their weather. She got out of Bella’s truck she borrowed and walked to the familiar two-story house with the dark roof. She knocked.

Harry Clearwater opened the door, his round, weathered face breaking into an awfully pleased smile.

“Taylor Hudson!” he exclaimed, then his face dropped. She braced herself and tensed. “I heard about Melissa… I’m very sorry, my condolences. She was a wonderful person.”

She gave a stiff nod. The words were always the same.

She was a wonderful person. We are so sorry.

She was a wonderful person. We are so sorry.

She was a wonderful person. We are so sorry.

She was a wonderful person. We are so sorry.

ME TOO! Taylor wanted to scream. I’M SORRY TOO! BUT IT WON’T BRING HER BACK, SO SHUT UP. 

SHUT THE FUCK UP.

PLEASE. ENOUGH!

“Is Leah here?” Taylor asked instead.

Harry seemed to realize she didn’t want to talk about her mother much, so he shook his head. He looked at her closely.

“She went to First Beach.”

“In the rain?” Taylor raised an eyebrow and Harry held up his hands.

“She’s having a hard time right now, and… we’re trying not to keep her locked inside. Leah’s much better when she’s out somewhere.”

Taylor pressed her lips together and pulled her hood up tighter. The drizzle was unpleasant but not deadly.

“I’ll go see her.”

“Come in for dinner,” Harry asked. “Seth and Sue will be glad to see you.”

“I’ll try,” Taylor promised.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he lowered his voice.

“I promise.”

Leah had gone very far.

The path to First Beach was usually a narrow trail, but Leah never liked to use it. She walked through the old settlement, the narrow part of the woods where quileute houses still stood, left in the thickets as some kind of national relic. It was where she first met Sam Uley. Where they fell in love. Taylor knew this, so she took the same route, just in case Leah had stayed near one of the houses.

She had.

Leah sat in an old chair covered with leaves and curled herself in a raincoat she’d brought. She stared into the distance but probably didn’t see much. Leah had cut her hair short; the once long braids were gone, replaced by a neat bob. She hugged her knees to her chest, breathing and sighing. A phone lay nearby; Taylor could see Leah had opened her chat with Sam and was reading their messages again.

“I thought a breakup haircut was a myth,” Taylor said.

Leah spun around so fast she almost fell from the chair and gasped at the sight of Taylor. She smiled a bit, happy to see her. Then Leah shook her head and settled back.

“I thought that too. Then I got it — it’s like your head gets lighter immediately. No thoughts.” Leah tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Sue must have been thrilled about your new look?” Taylor sat down and rested her temple against Leah’s knees.

“She screamed at first, then cried, then started cursing Sam,” Leah’s voice broke on his name. “I don’t think she’ll ever forgive him for my hair. Emily maybe, but not my braids.”

“Screw him,” Taylor said and closed her eyes.

Leah’s hand settled on the top of her head.

“Do you want condolences?” She asked.

“Do you?”

“No way.”

“Same here.”

They looked at each other at the same time.

“How did you find me?” Leah asked.

“Your dad said you went to First Beach.”

“And?”

“You always walk here. I figured you wouldn’t want to be on the beach right now.”

“Sam’s there,” Leah nodded. “They’re often there, him and Emily. And I’m just… not ready for that yet.” Taylor nodded understandingly.

“I often run away from home too when Bella comes back from the Cullens.”

“How is she?”

“She’s a completely different person,” Taylor sighed. “Like her brain’s been… scrambled and replaced. I haven’t seen anything like it in a long time. And she doesn’t even realize it! Every time she comes back from them she seems to wake up a little, but then… she sees him at school, and it all repeats.”

Thinking over her own words now, Taylor frowned. It sounded familiar — not just like extreme abuse from the outside, but as if she’d heard similar phrasing in one of the books about vampires.

What was it again? Julian probably would know. She filed the thought away for later. For now her focus was Leah.

“Your dad invited me to dinner,” she said.

“You’re too young to be my stepmom,” Leah giggled.

“Screw you! Tonight, are you okay with that?”

“I’d be glad to see you,” Leah rubbed her cheek. “He didn’t invite anyone else, did he?”

“If Harry accidentally invites Sam, I’ll personally take up a rifle and shoot that asshole, I promise,” Taylor nodded.

Leah, still heartbroken and betrayed by her own cousin, laughed. It was a beautiful sound.

Chapter Text

pause
unclench your jaw
soften your forehead
drop shoulders
take a deep breath

Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream.

Untouched nature.

“Take pictures of untouched nature — the way you see it — and develop them. I’ll send the best ones to the exhibition,” said Mr. Barnaby, handing the photo club their new assignment.

The first three days at school passed... mercifully, or so Taylor thought. People didn’t stare that much anymore by the second day, once they realised she, unlike Bella, had no intention of drawing anyone’s attention. Especially the Cullens. Or Jessica Stanley. Or Mike, and… seriously, what the fuck was wrong with that guy?

Emma and Luis, in a way, took her under their wing — that’s what Taylor told Charlie. On the second day, they didn’t let her sit in the hallway on the dirty floor with her pathetic sandwich, dragging her instead to the small school newspaper room, which smelled pleasantly of ink and freshly printed paper. And fish, but she could get used to it. Emma kindly explained that nobody used that room during lunch breaks, so the two of them always hung out there. Someone had piled up beanbags in the corner, and once they got comfortable, they peacefully exchanged stories and wondered aloud where Mr. Brunner, every single year in biology, somehow got hold of the same golden onion for the competition.

Last year, the onion had gone to Bella — Taylor remembered that. And she remembered well, because Bella lost it when some pickup truck almost hit her. “That was insane,” said Emma. “We all saw Cullen climb out, but nobody figured out how he got there.”

“Mass hallucination,” Luis suggested, staring at Taylor.

“Everything got mixed up in people’s heads because of the panic,” the girl agreed, but she had a feeling they were talking about entirely different things.

And now, thanks to that insane pair, Taylor was trudging through the forest, trying to get some good shots.

The woods were even wetter than last time. A nasty drizzle misted over her raincoat, her rubber boots slipped on the wet ground, and Taylor had to move slowly, as if both her legs were broken, just to avoid falling face-first into the mud. Literally.

She hobbled to the already familiar tree, next to which the old bloody trap still lay. No one had removed it — but, Taylor thought, she shouldn’t have expected anyone to bother. She shook her head and took the camera out of her bag. The school camera was carefully wrapped in a waterproof cloth. Zooming in, she took a photo of the trap. Untouched nature. A lie, of course — but something inside her screamed to capture it. To remember that damned metal snare that had brought her to her first Quileute. She missed him. 

While Bella was with Edward, Taylor shared the story with Charlie. He, grim and gloomy and tiny bit mad, wagged his finger, begging her never again to go near an animal caught in a trap. Taylor pressed her lips together, touched the faint scratches, and Charlie immediately realised his mistake.

Witches were creatures of nature — just like shapeshifters. And no matter how hard Taylor tried to stay away from magic, it always found its way into her life. It seemed impossible to live in Forks without using at least a bit of it. Beyond that — well, Taylor wasn’t exactly a terrible person. She couldn’t just pass by any suffering creature, and if she could help or protect it from human cruelty… well, she would.

A few protective runes on the house, a couple of drops of calming potion for herself and Charlie (so he wouldn’t snap at Bella), and cleansing spells — Taylor whispered them quietly before bed every night, sending them in her cousin’s direction. She couldn’t believe Bella had fallen so deeply for someone in just a week, and then let him treat her… like that.

And the forest. The damned forest and the damned Quileute that kept pulling her deeper, as if she had nothing better to do with her life.

That was when Charlie set a rule: if Taylor went into the forest, she had to train her magic. “One day,” he’d said, “it’ll save your life, Tay.” She wasn’t sure about that, but didn’t argue. Even though magic still reminded her of her mother, breathing seemed to get easier every day. It was as if the reservation that bound Forks and La Push whispered her name, begging her to step onto its land — to stay with it.

Taylor started finding blossoms growing on the tree outside her window. “The Quileute tree nymphs sensed the witch on their land,” Charlie said pleasantly and she threw pillow at his face then. Nature had always bloomed around her mother too, though Melissa herself preferred the chaos of New Orleans.

“Maybe,” he’d said, “you don’t need New Orleans’ chaos. Maybe what you need is Forks’ calm.”

Taylor found herself agreeing with him.

Wrinkling her nose at the trap she still despised, she looked around and moved on. Beyond the fallen trees lay a tiny clearing — about the size of her bedroom, to be honest. Quiet and surrounded by boulders, untouched by humans who avoided the tangled depths of the woods.

She set the camera on one of the tall rocks and took a shot.

Then she spread out her second raincoat — the one she’d bought for hiking — and sat down. Pushed back her hood. Breathed in.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The forest was quiet. On the edge of her consciousness, she sensed a few deer running chaotically miles away. Somewhere closer to First Beach, a lone tree nymph muttered angrily, hating the tourists. Magic was singing. Something inside her chest tightened, desperately urging her to stand, to walk right. Closer. Farther. Closer still.

Careful footsteps. Taylor’s eyes flew open. She turned.

The now-familiar dark-silver wolf stepped onto her little clearing, ignoring the rain and the mud. He tilted his head to the side, as if asking whether she’d lost her mind.

“Hey,” Taylor mumbled, then waved her hand. “I see you’ve learned to avoid traps?”

The wolf made a strange sound — something like laughter. He came closer and slowly lay down beside her, his gaze drifting to her backpack.

“I’m in the photo club now,” Taylor explained. “We got an assignment to photograph ‘untouched nature.’” The wolf grumbled something. “You do know I don’t understand you, right?”

He nodded.

“Great.”

Taylor carefully opened her raincoat and took out the camera, shielding it from the endless drizzle. The creature growled nervously.

“I’m not taking your picture,” she rolled her eyes. “Relax, I’m not that dumb.” She took a few quiet shots of the clearing from another angle. Zoomed in on some flowers.

The wolf rested his head on his paws, watching her calmly.

“How’s your paw?” Taylor asked after a moment, putting the camera away. He lifted it, showing only a thin scar that remained. Taylor touched the warm limb, leaning closer to check for lasting effects or infection. “Will it heal?” The wolf nodded. “So your regeneration isn’t that fast after all. Interesting.” Was it her imagination, or did the animal just roll his eyes? “Why are you even here?” Taylor scoffed.

The Quileute looked around, baring his teeth slightly.

“Protecting your territory?” the girl guessed. The wolf nudged her shoulder with his nose. “Me?!” He nodded, and Taylor laughed. “Why me?”

The wolf bared his teeth again.

“You’re afraid I’ll get attacked by… what do you call them? The Cold Ones?” Another nod. “I can protect myself.” The wolf snorted — apparently laughing.

Squinting at his disbelief, Taylor clenched her fist and focused on a blade of grass beside him — and set it on fire. The Quileute yelped, jumped to his feet, staring at the wet grass that wouldn't even burn when dry. Then he glanced at her.

“Witch, remember? Vampires burn easily. I can take care of myself.”

He lifted his previously injured paw in her direction.

“You don’t owe me anything,” she correctly interpreted his gesture. The wolf growled at her. “I’m serious — you can go. You don’t need to babysit me. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”

Staring at her as if she were the idiot here, the huge Quileute plopped back onto the ground and watched as she just sat there on her raincoat, letting her hair get soaked.

Idiot.

“Do you take constructive criticism?” Alice Cullen asked, sitting next to her in the library.

Honestly, Taylor wasn’t entirely sure how she ended up in this situation — working on a biology project with a vampire — but she sighed and tried to accept it.

“In my current state? Only while crying.”

“That’s a dumb idea.”

“You should read up on what constructive criticism actually is,” Taylor snorted, and Alice laughed melodiously.

Her short hair was slicked back today, each strand carefully in place. Taylor, thinking about her own hair, ran a hand over her head, trying to calm the messy bun at the back.

“Are you going to the fall dance?” Alice asked, switching topics so abruptly that Taylor got a whiplash.

“The dance? You mean the twenties-themed one Jessica won’t shut up about?”

“Exactly that. And Jessica’s not too bad.”

“Yeah, if you like two-faced jerks,” Taylor agreed. Alice shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You really don’t like her?”

“Between your brother and Jessica Stanley, I’m afraid high school will destroy Bella,” Taylor said with a giggle — and then froze.

“What’s your problem with Edward?” Alice frowned.

“Come on, seriously?” Taylor threw up her hands. “A week! They’ve known each other for a week, and suddenly they’re… what, soulmates? I don’t buy that crap.”

“Taylor Hudson doesn’t believe in romance?” came a voice behind her. Jasper Cullen settled at their secluded library table — his hair so perfectly maintained that Lauren practically sang serenades every time the vampire appeared nearby. Fuck, Taylor really needed some conditioner for her, it was getting ridiculous, especially if she’s seen with those goddamn vampires again. 

“I don’t believe in relationships after one week,” she snapped. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for Alice,” he said calmly, pointing toward his girlfriend. “Don’t get you knickers in a twist.”

“Dick,” Taylor snorted. 

“We really should be going,” Alice said. “Hey, are you coming to Bella’s birthday?”

“Bella’s having a party?” Taylor raised an eyebrow. “Bella hates all the fuss around her birthdays.”

“Of course! We’re having a party at our place! You have to come. Everyone’s so excited to meet you,” the blonde recalled Rosalie, whom she had seen that morning. When their eyes met, Rosalie had twisted her face like something stank under her shoe.

“Bella Swan hates everything to do with parties, and she’s definitely not going to be happy about that one,” Taylor frowned. “Besides, we celebrate with Charlie at home early in the morning. And… I don’t know any of you.”

“You do know us,” Jasper teased, raising his eyebrows. “Besides, you’re Bella’s family.”

“Surprisingly, after meeting Edward, Bella keeps forgetting that more and more each time. Did you know?” Taylor tilted her head slightly to the side. “It’s Bella’s birthday,” she said more strictly, scanning the vampires. “Edward already dictates too much in her life.”

“He’s not dictating anything!” Alice protested.

Taylor shook her head. She didn’t have an obligation to reveal herself to the vampires immediately, but since Forks was technically their coven territory, one day Taylor would have to tell the truth. And that “one day” would have to come soon.

“How sure are you about this?” she asked quietly. “How sure are you about what he says? That he’s not… using his knowledge of your family to make you hear what he wants?” Taylor pushed her lips forward, then sighed. “Alice, your brother managed to convince you that Bella would enjoy the party. He managed to convince you that Bella would enjoy shopping. He managed to convince Bella that they’re in love. That he’s mysterious and enigmatic. And the people in her life, even Jessica Stanley, are toxic creatures, poisoning her existence.”

Alice swallowed, though Taylor was certain she didn’t need to.

“Do you really know what kind of person you call your brother?” she asked quietly at the end.

She turned to Jasper, and his marble-like face remained unreadable. But Taylor saw a flicker of doubt in him. A seed she had planted, which could grow.

“I don’t want to accuse any of you,” Taylor spoke again. “But… how sure are you that what you see with your own eyes and hear from him is true?”

And then she left.

Bella didn’t take the news about the party well.

Or rather — she took it, then screamed, then almost cried, and finally decided that the most responsible person in the house was Taylor — which meant Taylor was the one she could complain to about how much she didn’t want to celebrate her birthday.

“A party?” Bella yelled that evening at home.

“That’s what Alice said,” Taylor raised her hands. “I had nothing to do with it — don’t kill me, seriously. What the hell?”

“Watch your language!” Charlie shouted from the living room.

“Sorry!”

“Sorry, Dad!”

“Ugh,” Bella groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I told them a hundred times I didn’t want it… I really don’t like my birthday this year.”

“Why? You’re turning eighteen—”

“Don’t.”

Taylor frowned.

Yes, Bella — the shy, soft-hearted soul — had never been a fan of her birthdays. That was true. She’d almost cried when people gave her attention or brought presents, and then made her open them in front of everyone. She and her mom always mailed gifts instead and never demanded reports. Months later, one of them would gently ask about it, and Bella would calmly explain what she liked and how she used it.

But she’d never been this against it. Bella had always loved the cake, the silly songs from her parents, and even the postcards from New Orleans — the ones that never showed a cake or candles but always had ridiculous rhymes dedicated to random holidays like “National Fluffy Pillow Day.”

“What’s going on?” Taylor asked carefully.

“Edward’s seventeen,” Bella muttered.

“So?”

“I’ll be older than him!” she exclaimed.

“And you want to ruin your chance to have a proper eighteenth birthday because you’re… what, one year older than your boyfriend? Bella, he’s just a guy. It’s your birthday!”

Bella screamed — muffled by her hands.

Theoretically, Taylor could understand. If Edward had been turned at seventeen, the difference might feel weird to Bella. She’d keep aging, while he’d stay frozen in a seventeen-year-old’s body forever. But… he was at least several decades older than her, wasn’t he? So what was the problem?

“We’ll always have that difference, that’s what pisses me off!” Bella exclaimed, and tears actually filled her eyes.

A chill ran down Taylor’s spine.

There it was — the real reason. Bella was preparing to become a vampire. She was ready to choose eternal life with Edward — and he’d always look younger than her. Well, not really, they looked the same age, but he’ll always be younger. 

“Age is just a number,” Taylor said softly, trying to comfort her. She sighed and gently ruffled Bella’s hair.

But did Bella really know what it meant to be a vampire? The thirst for blood. The hunger for normalcy. The constant thirst. Taylor wasn’t a vampire, but she’d read enough of her mother’s books (and the ones Julian sent her) to understand — vampire life could hardly be called a fairy tale.

And then there was the danger that came with all things magical. Technology wouldn’t let them hide forever, but that was a problem for the future. Right now, in the present, her cousin — who hadn’t even lived much yet — was ready to throw her life away just to spend eternity with someone whose gaze made your skin crawl.

Edward, in that sense, was very different from his so-called siblings.

Sure, Emmett was intimidating because of his size. Rosalie’s face always showed complete indifference. Alice seemed a little unhinged. And Jasper looked like someone who’d been through war — always assessing the danger around him. But Edward… he looked more of a predator than all of them combined. He looked at Bella like she was a piece of meat — ready to pounce any second. Every time her cousin went off with him, Taylor worried it might be the last time she saw her.

“I just don’t want to be older than him all the time,” Bella murmured.

“It’s the natural order of things, Isabella,” Taylor said. “You can’t just… turn back time and stay seventeen forever.”

“What if I could?” Bella looked up, her voice soft and uncertain, as if she’d wanted to ask for a long time but never dared. “If you could, would you stay?”

“Stay seventeen?” Taylor thought for a moment. “Nah, not really. I can’t even drink yet — what’s the point? I’d wait till twenty-three or twenty-four. I read somewhere that’s when your brain finishes forming, and after that you just live, learn from your mistakes. You can drink, you can drive, and you don’t look like you just turned fifteen yesterday. Yeah, I’d stay twenty-three forever. But not seventeen. That’s just dumb.”

Bella sighed heavily, and Taylor frowned thoughtfully.

Her cousin had never seemed so… consumed by any relationship before. Taylor grabbed Bella’s hand and, without her noticing, traced a rune on her palm — a light, relaxing one, to calm her thoughts and ease her anxiety.

But suddenly, the rune shocked them both like a jolt of electricity.

“Damn!” Taylor yelped.

“Ow!”

They stared at each other — then burst into laughter. But no matter how much Taylor tried, she couldn’t find any real reason to smile. The rune should have worked. It had to.

Taylor stared at her palms, as if she could find the answer hidden in the lines and cracks — why her magic worked worse and worse on her cousin. Julian had better hurry with that last batch of vampire books. It was always a bad sign when a rune didn’t work on a supposedly normal human. A very bad sign.

Chapter Text

there’s never been a time when witches were cuddly and embraced by the people, me dear. we’re the frightening people who talk to spirits in the woods.

Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. Scream. Light. Hospital.
Scrape. Crash. Smoke. Fire. 

The scent of grass tickled Taylor’s nose. After school, to Charlie’s surprise, she calmly headed into the forest. She remembered the old, sprawling tree afflicted by a forest infection— the wide oak no one wanted to lose. It stood just beyond the clearing where she and the dark-silver wolf had met.

Taylor shuddered. The wolf came here more and more often, waiting for her, wanting to sit nearby while she simply breathed steadily, getting used to the surrounding nature. And, on Julian’s advice, she also tried to sense the ley lines crossing Forks. There weren’t as many as in New Orleans, but La Push and Forks were Quileute land and attracted mages and vampires who weren’t born there, so it was safe to say the earthly currents here were definitely strong.

But today Taylor had a different mission.

The old, sprawling oak was slowly bending toward the ground. On one side, its roots had burst from the loose soil and were covered in patches of brown, sickly moss that was slowly consuming it. Taylor slipped backpack off her shoulders and approached the tree.

“You poor thing,” she whispered, touching the bark.

Such a heavy miasma on a living organism was rare, but here, in the Forks forest, it seemed to have accumulated. Taylor shuddered again. The path around the tree was surrounded by boulders completely covered in green moss. It looked as though someone had ripped up the roots of the trees around and scattered them. Taylor wouldn’t have been surprised if it was the work of the supernatural creatures. She shook her head. Goddamn it, those fucking bloodsuckers. 

She dug her fingers into the soil near the roots and closed her eyes. The miasma— that magical sludge killing any life energy— was deep within the root system, slowly seeping into the earth.

Taylor focused on the thick poison and slowly, as if searching for stones in a river, reached through it, clearing it. Black, bubbling, heavy sludge spilled out of the ground, burning her hands with its heat, but the witch didn’t let go. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter until the bubbling flow ceased.

She wiped a thin layer of sweat from her forehead. The oak seemed to stand straighter now, and most of the once-visible roots slowly began to sink back underground. Taylor sighed and sat down beside the tree. She placed a hand on her chest, trying to calm her uneven heartbeat, then lay back on the ground. For someone raised around magic, she didn’t have much practice in matters like this, Taylor thought. In New Orleans the air smelled of death. And the magic was the same. But Forks felt like it had its own massive lungs that expanded and contracted with the town’s heartbeat.

Taylor lifted her palm above her, and fireflies whirled around it.

“Did they teach you that at your fancy New Orleans?”

She screamed and jerked upright, instantly igniting the ground around her. The miasma, which had finally stopped bubbling, flared up, and she scrambled back farther, coughing at the sharp smell.

Quil Ateara, once Jake’s best friend, stood behind the trees, staring at her with curiosity.

“What the hell!?” Taylor hissed at him. “Are you insane?” Quil at least had the decency to blush and lower his head. He scratched the back of it awkwardly. “Someone needs to put a bell on you.”

“I always knew something was off about you,” Quil shrugged.

He carefully approached Taylor and crouched beside the still-bubbling sludge. He picked up a dried stick and, like a twelve-year-old boy, began poking at it, snickering. Taylor rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“What are you even doing here?” she asked.

“Taking a walk.” Quil tossed the stick aside and looked at her. “Rumor has it you’re a witch. But I definitely didn’t expect… this.”

“Rumor has it,” Taylor repeated skeptically. He smirked. “Does this rumor have a name?”

“So what does a witch even do?” Quil asked.

Taylor sighed, realizing the day wouldn’t offer her anything more interesting, and flopped down beside him.

“We are beings of balance,” she said. “We watch over nature. Sometimes…” Taylor remembered Julian, “we cause little earthquakes.”

“Seriously?”

“No, I’m kidding. It only happened once.”

“Hudson!”

“Ateara!”

They laughed, and Taylor lowered her eyes to the grass.

“Tell me honestly,” she whispered. “What’s your wolf like?” Quil grinned mysteriously.

“Trying to figure out if it was me whose paw you pulled out of that trap?”

“Yes.”

“I, unfortunately, have to keep secrets. You’ll figure it out,” he said, then patted Taylor’s shoulder. “How… how’s Jake?” Quil asked after a short pause.

“I don’t see him much,” Taylor sighed. “He spends more time with Bella when he comes around. But he… looks good.” Then she scratched her nose. “He doesn’t have much time left.”

“You sure?”

“He’s grown a lot,” she nodded. “And he’s way too emotional.”

“He’s fifteen,” Quil reminded her.

“So are you.”

Silent for a moment, Quil buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“I don’t even want to know what he says about me.”

“I haven’t heard anything except ‘we’re not friends anymore,’” Taylor shrugged. “He’ll find out soon enough anyway.”

“It doesn’t feel like ‘soon’ at all.”

Taylor placed her hand on his back and gave a soft smile.

“You just need time,” the witch whispered. “And a little faith that Jacob misses his best friend too.”

“Did you know you don’t have to bring your own when you come to a library?”

Taylor jumped and whirled around, staring at the vampire behind her. Jasper Cullen tilted his head to the side as if evaluating his future dinner. Strangely, Taylor had never seen him this close before. His light, slightly wavy hair framed his face, and his golden eyes— bright and feral— looked straight into her soul.

She swallowed.

Her spot was the most tucked-away corner in the town library. She hunched over the book she had brought from home, turned on a desk lamp, and spread out her notebooks. She was sure no one would even think to look for her here. He probably smelled her or something. 

“What are you doing here?” she snapped.

Jasper raised his hands as if surrendering.

“Came to return a book, if you can believe it. Then I saw a familiar head and decided to say hello. What are you reading?”

And suddenly she was wrapped in a strange sensation, like in a blanket, as though Jasper could be trusted. It clung to her like a second skin, smothering the very top of her suspicion. Her hipbone throbbed.

Runes. At fifteen her mother had taken her to a tattoo parlor in the French Quarter. They’d inked three small runes into her hipbone, which she and her mother then enchanted— against mind-reading, coercion, and any intrusive influence.

Taylor narrowed her eyes.

“Jasper,” she called.

“What?”

“Stop,” Taylor said, and his eyes widened comically. She stepped forward until they were almost touching. “Manipulate my emotions one more time, and I’ll burn you and your whole freak little family to a crisp. Got it?”

The blanket vanished.

“How did you—” Jasper pressed his lips together and put a finger to them. “Don’t tell me. Don’t tell me anything. Edward reads minds.” She smirked in response.

“I can help with that,” Taylor said, wiggling her brows. “Do you have something you always have on you?”

Even if Jasper had tried to manipulate her, Taylor Hudson was a witch— a creature of nature. And unlike with Edward, she didn’t feel the urge to crawl out of her own skin around Jasper.

Jasper frowned in confusion, then nodded and slipped off a small ring. Taylor turned it between her fingers. A horseshoe of dark silver was stamped onto it.

“Cowboy,” she muttered. “Should’ve guessed.” She tugged him by the hand, positioning him so no one passing by would see what she was doing.

She pressed the ring between her palms and closed her eyes.

Scutum praesidium, ego porto illud fortis. 

Idem dicendum de anima. 

Nolite nocere, non contritionem.

Da nobis unicuique. 

In arduis nidum ponere dicitur, que desideria terrena, 

Et exponam tibi metallum esse clypeum.

She opened her eyes. The ring had grown warm under her fingers, and Taylor held out her hand insistently, signaling for Jasper to take it. 

“What did you do? What were those words?” he asked quietly. “I know a bit of Latin, but I only caught half.”

“A protection prayer,” Taylor answered. “He won’t read your thoughts anymore.”

“Alice…Alice sees the future.”

“Then participate in her future somewhere far away from Edward,” Taylor snapped. “What did you want?”

“Would you believe me if I said I actually wanted to know what you’re reading?” Jasper asked.

Taylor shrugged, then squinted at him. Who better to ask than a vampire?

“What do you know about enthrallment?” she asked.

“Enthrall—” He choked on the word, then hissed at her after looking around. “What are you?”

“A witch,” Taylor snorted. “Calm down, I’m not going to blab about you.” Jasper rubbed his nose. “What do you know about enthrallment?” she repeated.

“It’s a crime, even among our kind,” he said, lowering himself onto the seat beside her. Taylor returned to her table.

“How does it manifest?”

“Complete dependency. Attachment. Rapidly imposed emotions.” His eyes shot up to her. “You didn’t ask me that for shits and giggles, did you?”

“Bella was never like this, you know?” Taylor murmured. “She’s wonderful. She’s… shy, and very awkward, and she’s constantly tripping over things. But she’s kind, and she loves her family, and she would never let a man dictate to her what’s true and what’s not.”

“Edward wouldn’t.”

“And how would you know?”

“I can feel that he loves her. And she loves him.” Then Jasper closed his eyes. “But enthrallment on humans can feel like love, and Edward can use mind-reading to know exactly when he needs to pretend he loves her and not her blood. Fuck.”

“Is there a way to check?” Taylor asked. “I want to be sure.”

Jasper sighed again.

“Marcus could see it,” he muttered.

“Who?”

“Marcus Volturi.”

“Who?”

Jasper lifted his head and smirked.

“Don’t tell me there’s something you don’t know.”

“If you think that just because I’m short I won’t punch you, you’re deeply mistaken, Cullen.”

“Hale.”

“What?”

“My last name. Hale.” He reached out and took her hand. “Whitlock, if you’re curious about the birth name.”

She shook his hand automatically, then realized and pulled away from the cold skin.

“Jasper Whitlock?” Taylor repeated, tasting the name on her tongue, then shook her head with a smile. “All right, then tell me— what is Marcus Volturi?”

“Not ‘what.’ ‘Who.’ Have you ever heard of our government?”

Taylor froze.

“You vampires have a government?” she hissed.

Jasper nodded and told her about Volterra— about the three kings who ruled, the laws established since antiquity, their guard, and Marcus, who could see connections between everyone around him. He saw the threads of fate.

“But we can’t just drag Edward and Bella to Volterra,” Taylor said, rubbing her temples.

“Alice has seen fragments of the future,” Jasper answered. “We all… we’ll end up there.”

“We all… even me?” He nodded. “Perfect. Just perfect. Lovely. Love that for me.”

“You know what’s interesting? Alice always saw Bella as a vampire. But not always next to Edward. She’s meant to change.” The cowboy smirked. “Should’ve guessed. If they’re not together in every vision, it’s because she’s not his true match.”

“Why are you really here, Jasper?” Taylor asked, and he froze. “I don’t believe for one second that you go to the library. And I don’t believe you just wanted to know what I’m reading. I just don’t buy it.”

Hale licked his lips and nodded.

“I have a friend. Peter. He has a gift, too. Sometimes he… gets hints from the universe— let’s call it that.”

“Hints from the universe?”

“He might walk into a store and suddenly feel like buying a pack of sausage. Three days later he meets a starving cat.”

“Hah,” Taylor said. “That would annoy me so much. I hate not knowing.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. When Peter says something, you just accept it. He only knows truths— not human choices like Alice.”

“And he said something to you about me?”

“He didn’t say much,” Jasper warned. “But he sent me a message the day before I first saw you at school.” The vampire dug through his pocket, then through his phone, and turned the screen toward Taylor.

On a white background were two black sentences:

Taylor Hudson. A true friend.

“That’s it?”

“Peter wouldn’t have sent it unless it mattered,” Jasper defended himself. “I don’t know why. But you never approached us. I had to improvise.”

Taylor nodded.

“And how did that turn out for you?”

“I definitely didn’t expect you to threaten to burn me alive,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

They were silent for a few moments before Taylor asked cautiously:

“Jasper?”

“Mhm?”

“If enthrallment is considered a crime in your world,” she said, “what’s the punishment?”

“If Edward really enthralled Bella and revealed our secret to her based on that, then the punishment is death,” he answered quietly.

“Then why did you tell me all this?”

“Because…” Jasper swallowed. “The Cullens are my family. But Edward… being near him, being his family, it’s hard, Taylor. He’s in our heads constantly, and he’s not afraid to use it against us. I’m scared of what will happen to us in a few years. Did you know Rosalie used to always make friends at schools and universities? But Edward is like poison— he destroyed that part of her life too.”

“You want to protect them.”

“My story isn’t like theirs,” Jasper nodded. “And I care about each of them. About Alice… especially about her.”

“She’s your mate?”

“She waited for me,” the vampire said with a bright smile. “She woke as a vampire and waited several decades because I was the first thing she ever saw. If I have to kill to keep her safe, I will. Even if I become a monster in her eyes.”

“You’re not a monster,” Taylor shook her head. “A monster wouldn’t care about anyone. Wouldn’t care about spilled blood or destruction.”

Jasper swallowed again and nodded carefully.

“If you say so.”