The drive back from La Push felt longer than it should have. Maybe it was the weight of Billy's unspoken questions, or the way the boundary between the reservation and Forks seemed to pulse against my consciousness as we crossed it. Charlie dozed in the passenger seat, leaving me alone with my thoughts and that persistent pull drawing me back toward town.
Jake's enthusiasm about cars had been a welcome distraction, but it couldn't completely mask the undercurrent of... something that ran through the entire visit. The way Billy watched me, the subtle shift in the air itself - even my enhanced senses had felt different there, like they were responding to different rules entirely.
As we passed the town limits, that familiar sweet-metallic scent hit me again, so sudden and strong that my hands tightened on the steering wheel. My body knew what it meant before my mind could process it:
Edythe was back.
The scent grew stronger as we approached the center of town, and with it came that peculiar heightening of my senses that I'd started to associate with her presence. The afternoon light seemed sharper, colors more vivid. Even the constant patter of rain against the Prelude's roof took on a musical quality that hadn't been there before.
Charlie stirred beside me, probably roused by the slight change in the car's speed. I hadn't realized I'd slowed down, unconsciously searching for the source of that scent.
"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep.
"Yeah," I managed, forcing myself to focus on driving. "Just tired."
But I wasn't tired. I was more awake than I'd been in days, every nerve ending singing with awareness. She was close - not just in town, but somewhere nearby. The pull was almost physical now, like an invisible cord drawing me forward.
After dropping Charlie off at the house, I waited only long enough for him to settle into his favorite chair, already reaching for the TV remote.
"I'm heading out for a bit," I called to him.
"Everything alright?" he asked, glancing up.
"Yeah, just need to check something in town. Won't be long."
But I wasn't going to town - at least not in the direction Charlie probably assumed. That sweet-metallic scent pulled me forward as I got back behind the wheel, drawing me toward the outskirts where forest met pavement. The Prelude's engine hummed as I followed that invisible thread, my enhanced senses tracking the trail like a compass finding true north.
The scent led me toward the old hiking trails, growing stronger until it practically sang in the air. I parked where the pavement ended, the black paint of my car melting into the gathering shadows of late afternoon. The rain had settled into a fine mist, but I barely noticed it as I stepped into the tree line, following that invisible thread that seemed to connect me to her.
The path wound deeper into the forest, each step bringing that pull, that connection, into sharper focus. My senses picked up everything - the soft whisper of rain on leaves, the distant call of birds, the subtle shift in the air that told me I wasn't alone.
Then I saw her, standing in a small clearing ahead. Even through the mist, her presence seemed to draw all the light to her, her bronze hair catching what little sunshine filtered through the canopy. She stood perfectly still, that impossible stillness I remembered, but her eyes tracked my approach with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"Why are you here?" she asked, her golden eyes studying me with that same frustrated curiosity from before.
"I was just exploring," I said carefully, though the words felt hollow against the truth of that mysterious pull that had led me here. Something about her presence made lying feel... wrong, even as instinct warned me to keep my guards up.
Her perfect features shifted into an expression I couldn't quite read. Her gaze lingered on me, and I could see her fighting some internal battle - the way she held herself so rigidly still, her careful, measured breathing.
The wind shifted, carrying my scent toward her, and she took an immediate step back, her eyes darkening to a deeper amber. That sweet-metallic scent still hung in the air between us, making my head swim. In the isolation of the clearing, the pull between us surged to an almost tangible intensity, an undeniable force that seemed to reshape the very space between us. Every instinct that should have been screaming danger was instead drawing me toward her, even as she fought to maintain her distance.
For a moment, her careful mask slipped, revealing something hungry and ancient beneath. But instead of fear, I felt that inexplicable pull grow stronger. Her hands clenched at her sides, knuckles somehow becoming even paler as she struggled to maintain control.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, but her voice lacked conviction, as if she was trying to convince herself more than me.
"Neither should you," I countered, holding my ground despite the obvious tension radiating from her. "Yet here we both are."
A ghost of a smile touched her lips, though it didn't reach her eyes. "You're either very brave or very foolish."
"Maybe both," I admitted, watching as she shifted her weight slightly - an unusually human gesture for her. "But you don't seem to be the most dangerous thing in these woods."
Her expression sharpened at that, something dark and knowing flickering behind those golden eyes. "What makes you so sure about that?"
I hesitated, the memory of those blood-red eyes from my first night flashing through my mind. "Let's just say Forks seems to have its share of secrets."
"And you?" she asked, her musical voice carrying an edge now. "What secrets do you have, Raphael Egret?"
The way she said my name sent an inexplicable shiver down my spine. The pull between us seemed to pulse stronger, like a living thing with its own heartbeat. That sweet-metallic scent filled the air between us, making it hard to focus on anything else.
"We all have secrets," I managed, noting how her golden eyes narrowed in that particular way I was beginning to recognize - frustration at something about me she couldn't seem to grasp. "Some more dangerous than others."
A humorless smile touched her lips. "Dangerous," she repeated, testing the word. "You keep using that word, but you don't seem afraid. Why is that?"
The question hung in the air between us, charged with unspoken meaning. She was right - I should have been afraid. Everything about her screamed predator to my senses. Yet instead of triggering my flight or fight response, her presence drew me in like an opposing magnetic force. Every step she took backward seemed to pull me forward, as if we were caught in each other's gravitational field.
"Maybe I'm dangerous too," I said quietly, though the words felt hollow against the truth I couldn't understand. My experience, my instincts - they felt superficial compared to whatever she was, and to whatever was happening to me.
"No, maybe more abnormal than anything." I corrected with a low chuckle.
Her eyes darkened further, amber deepening to something closer to obsidian. "You have no idea," she whispered, more to herself than to me. The wind shifted again, carrying my scent, and I watched her entire body go rigid. That careful mask slipped, revealing what I was starting to recognize beneath her perfect facade - a primal, ravenous being that should have terrified me but instead felt almost familiar. Then. as if searching for a distraction from whatever was overwhelming her, her gaze drifted lower, settling on my neck.
"Those scars," she said suddenly, her voice tight with an unidentifiable emotion. "They're not from ordinary accidents, are they?"
The question caught me off guard. Most people either didn't notice the scars or were too polite to mention them. But she saw them with an accuracy that was almost uncomfortable, as if she could read the stories written in each mark.
"Maybe," I said carefully, nonchalantly, watching her reaction. "What makes you think they're not?"
The wind shifted again, stronger this time, and her reaction was immediate. She took several quick steps backward, moving too fast, too fluid for human limitations. As the space between us widened, that sweet-metallic scent dimmed just enough for my thoughts to become marginally clearer - though that inexplicable pull remained, like trying to hold two powerful magnets apart.
Her eyes flickered back to my neck, focusing on the edge of the ragged scar peeking above my collar - just a hint of the brutal damage hidden beneath the fabric. "It's like..." She paused, her voice strained as if the words were difficult to form. "Like something tried to..." She trailed off, seemingly catching herself before saying too much.
I found myself unconsciously touching the edge of the scar at my neck, watching as her eyes tracked the movement. The memory of teeth and tearing flesh flickered at the edges of my consciousness. "You seem to notice a lot of things most people miss."
"Most people," she repeated softly, almost mockingly. "You keep comparing me to 'most people.' Why?"
The question felt like a trap, but that pull between us made me want to answer honestly, even as every instinct screamed at me to deflect. I hesitated, searching for the right words, but before I could respond, her demeanor shifted abruptly.
"You need to leave," she said suddenly, her musical voice strained. But her body betrayed her words - even as she took another step back, her movements seemed to fight against themselves, as if she were being pulled in two directions at once.
"You first," I said softly, noting how her eyes had darkened further, nearly black now. "You're the one fighting so hard to stay away, yet you've appeared twice now without running."
A sound escaped her - something between a sigh and a quiet growl, though she tried to mask it. That sound should have warned me away, should have triggered some instinct of self-preservation. Instead, it sent a shiver of recognition through me, awakening something that felt both foreign and familiar.
"You don't understand," she said, her voice gentle despite the obvious strain. "Every second you stay here..." She broke off, running a hand through her bronze hair in an unusually human gesture of agitation. Her next words came out as barely more than a whisper: "Your... it's making it impossible to think clearly."
That caught my attention. "My what...?"
Her expression shifted, realizing she'd revealed too much. The careful mask slipped back into place, but not before I caught a glimpse of something almost vulnerable beneath her controlled facade.
The air between us crackled with tension, unspoken words and unanswered questions hanging heavy in the space that separated us. I held my ground, refusing to be the first to look away, even as her darkened eyes seemed to pierce right through me.
"What are you hiding?" I asked, my voice steady despite the unease that coiled in my gut.
Her lips curved into a smirk, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "What makes you think I'm hiding anything?"
"Call it a hunch," I said dryly. "Or maybe it's the fact that you keep showing up wherever I am, only to run away like I'm the one who's dangerous."
She let out a short, humorless laugh, but there was an edge of weariness to it. "Trust me, Raphael. You have no idea what dangerous really is."
The way she said my name sent a shiver down my spine, but I refused to let it show. "Then enlighten me."
For a moment, she seemed to consider it. Her gaze drifted back to the scar at my neck, and I could have sworn I saw a flicker of something like concern in her eyes, mingled with a flash of indignation that she quickly tried to hide. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that careful mask of indifference.
"Some things are better left in the dark," she said finally, her voice low and warning, but with an undercurrent of something that sounded almost like protectiveness.
I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could get a word out, she was gone. One moment she was there, the next she had vanished into the trees, moving too fast for my eyes to track.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the spot where she had been, my mind reeling with questions that had no answers. Whatever secrets Edythe was keeping, whatever had brought her into my life, whatever pull I felt, I knew one thing for certain: I would find out one way or another.
With a final glance at the silent forest around me, I turned and headed back the way I had come, the memory of her scent, that unexplained pull, and the feel of her gaze lingering long after she had disappeared from view.