He looked down, pausing for so long that I wondered if he hadn't heard my question. Finally, he asked
me, "Bella, if I told you that I couldn't fix these bikes, what would you say?"
I didn't answer right away, either, and he glanced up to check my expression.
"I would say… that's too bad, but I'll bet we could figure out something else to do. If we got really
desperate, we could even do homework."
Jacob smiled, and his shoulders relaxed. He sat down next to the bike and picked up a wrench. "So you
think you'll still come over when I'm done, then?"
"Is that what you meant?" I shook my head. "I guess I am taking advantage of your very underpriced
mechanical skills. But as long as you let me come over, I'll be here."
"Hoping to see Quil again?" he teased.
"You caught me."
He chuckled. "You really like spending time with me?" he asked, marveling.
"Very, very much. And I'll prove it. I have to work tomorrow, but Wednesday we'll do something
nonmechanical."
"Like what?"
"I have no idea. We can go to my place so you won't be tempted to be obsessive. You could bring your
schoolwork—you have to be getting behind, because I know I am."
"Homework might be a good idea." He made a face, and I wondered how much he was leaving undone
to be with me.
"Yes," I agreed. "We'll have to start being responsible occasionally, or Billy and Charlie aren't going to be
so easygoing about this." I made a gesture indicating the two of us as a single entity. He liked that—he
beamed.
"Homework once a week?" he proposed.
"Maybe we'd better go with twice," I suggested, thinking of the pile I'd just been assigned today.
He sighed a heavy sigh. Then he reached over his toolbox to a paper grocery sack. He pulled out two
cans of soda, cracking one open and handing it to me. He opened the second, and held it up
ceremoniously.
"Here's to responsibility," he toasted. "Twice a week."
"And recklessness every day in between," I emphasized.
He grinned and touched his can to mine.
I got home later than I'd planned and found Charlie had ordered a pizza rather than wait for me. He
wouldn't let me apologize.
"I don't mind," he assured me. "You deserve a break from all the cooking, anyway."
I knew he was just relieved that I was still acting like a normal person, and he was not about to rock the
boat.
I checked my e-mail before I started on my homework, and there was a long one from Renee. She
gushed over every detail I'd provided her with, so I sent back another exhaustive description of my day.
Everything but the motorcycles. Even happy-go-lucky Renee was likely to be alarmed by that.
School Tuesday had its ups and downs. Angela and Mike seemed ready to welcome me back with open
arms—to kindly overlook my few months of aberrant behavior. Jess was more resistant. I wondered if
she needed a formal written apology for the Port Angeles incident.
Mike was animated and chatty at work. It was like he'd stored up the semester's worth of talk, and it
was all spilling out now. I found that I was able to smile and laugh with him, though it wasn't as effortless
as it was with Jacob. It seemed harmless enough, until quitting time.
Mike put the closed sign in the window while I folded my vest and shoved it under the counter.
"This was fun tonight," Mike said happily.
"Yeah," I agreed, though I'd much rather have spent the afternoon in the garage.
"It's too bad that you had to leave the movie early last week."
I was a little confused by his train of thought. I shrugged. "I'm just a wimp, I guess."
"What I mean is, you should go to a better movie, something you'd enjoy," he explained.
"Oh," I muttered, still confused.
"Like maybe this Friday. With me. We could go see something that isn't scary at all."
I bit my lip.
I didn't want to screw things up with Mike, not when he was one of the only people ready to forgive me
for being crazy. But this, again, felt far too familiar. Like the last year had never happened. I wished I had
Jess as an excuse this time.
"Like a date?" I asked. Honesty was probably the best policy at this point. Get it over with.
He processed the tone of my voice "If you want. But it doesn't have to be like that."
"I don't date," I said slowly, realizing how true that was. That whole world seemed impossibly distant.
"Just as friends?" he suggested. His clear blue eyes were not as eager now. I hoped he really meant that
we could be friends anyway.
"That would be fun. But I actually have plans already this Friday, so maybe next week?"
"What are you doing?" he asked, less casually than I think he wanted to sound.
"Homework. I have a… study session planned with a friend."
"Oh. Okay. Maybe next week."
He walked me to my car, less exuberant than before. It reminded me so clearly of my first months in
Forks. I'd come full circle, and now everything felt like an echo—an empty echo, devoid of the interest it
used to have.
The next night, Charlie didn't seem the smallest bit surprised to find Jacob and me sprawled across the
living room floor with our books scattered around us, so I guessed that he and Billy were talking behind
our backs.
"Hey, kids," he said, his eyes straying to the kitchen. The smell of the lasagna I'd spent the afternoon
making—while Jacob watched and occasionally sampled—wafted down the hall; I was being good,
trying to atone for all the pizza.
Jacob stayed for dinner, and took a plate home for Billy. He grudgingly added another year to my
negotiable age for being a good cook.
Friday was the garage, and Saturday, after my shift at Newton's, was homework again. Charlie felt
secure enough in my sanity to spend the day fishing with Harry. When he got back, we were all
done—feeling very sensible and mature about it, too—and watching Monster Garage on the Discovery
Channel.
"I probably ought to go." Jacob sighed. "It's later than I thought."
"Okay, fine," I grumbled. "I'll take you home."
He laughed at my unwilling expression—it seemed to please him.
"Tomorrow, back to work," I said as soon as we were safe in the truck. "What time do you want me to
come up?"
There was an unexplained excitement in his answering smile. "I'll call you first, okay?"
"Sure." I frowned to myself, wondering what was up. His smile widened.
I cleaned the house the next morning—waiting for Jacob to call and trying to shake off the Litest
nightmare. The scenery had changed. Last night I'd wandered in a wide sea of ferns interspersed with
huge hemlock trees. There was nothing else there, and I was lost, wandering aimless and alone, searching
for nothing. I wanted to kick myself for the stupid field trip last week. I shoved the dream out of my
conscious mind, hoping it would stay locked up somewhere and not escape again.
Charlie was outside washing the cruiser, so when the phone rang, I dropped the toilet brush and ran
downstairs to answer it.
"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.
"Bella," Jacob said, a strange, formal tone to his voice.
"Hey, Jake."
"I believe that… we have a date" he said, his tone thick with implications.
It took me a second before I got it. "They're done? I can't believe it!" What perfect timing. I needed
something to distract me from nightmares and nothingness.
"Yeah, they run and everything."
"Jacob, you are absolutely, without a doubt, the most talented and wonderful person I know. You get ten
years for this one."
"Cool! I'm middle-aged now."
I laughed. "I'm on my way up!"
I threw the cleaning supplies under the bathroom counter and grabbed my jacket.
"Headed to see Jake," Charlie said when I ran past him. It wasn't really a question.
"Yep," I replied as I jumped in my truck.
"I'll be at the station later," Charlie called after me.
"Okay," I yelled back, turning the key.
Charlie said something else, but I couldn't hear him clearly over the roar of the engine. It sounded sort of
like, "Where's the fire?"
I parked my truck off to the side of the Blacks' house, close to the trees, to make it easier for us to sneak
the bikes out. When I got out, a splash of color caught my eye—two shiny motorcycles, one red, one
black, were hidden under a spruce, invisible from the house. Jacob was prepared.
There was a piece of blue ribbon tied in a small bow around each of the handlebars. I was laughing at
that when Jacob ran out of the house.
"Ready?" he asked in a low voice, his eyes sparkling.
I glanced over his shoulder, and there was no sign of Billy.
"Yeah," I said, but I didn't feel quite as excited as before; I was trying to imagine myself actually on the
motorcycle.
Jacob loaded the bikes into the bed of the truck with ease, laying them carefully on their sides so they
didn't show.
"Let's go," he said, his voice higher than usual with excitement. "I know the perfect spot—no one will
catch us there."
We drove south out of town. The dirt road wove in and out of the forest—sometimes there was nothing
but trees, and then there would suddenly be a breathtaking glimpse of the Pacific Ocean, reaching to the
horizon, dark gray under the clouds. We were above the shore, on top of the cliffs that bordered the
beach here and the view seemed to stretch on forever.
I was driving slowly, so that I could safely stare out across the ocean now and then, as the road wound
closer to the sea cliffs. Jacob was talking about finishing the bikes, but his descriptions were getting
technical, so I wasn't paying close attention.
That was when I noticed four figures standing on a rocky ledge, much too close to the precipice. I
couldn't tell from the distance how old they were, but I assumed they were men. Despite the chill in the
air today, they seemed to be wearing only shorts.
As I watched, the tallest person stepped closer to the brink. I slowed automatically, my foot hesitating
over the brake pedal.
And then he threw himself off the edge.
"No!" I shouted, stomping down on the brake.
"What's wrong?" Jacob shouted back, alarmed.
"That guy—he just jumped off the cliff! Why didn't they stop him? We've got to call an ambulance!" I
threw open my door and started to get out, which made no sense at all. The fastest way to a phone was
to drive back to Billy's. But I couldn't believe what I'd just seen. Maybe, subconsciously, I hoped I
would see something different without the glass of the windshield in the way.
Jacob laughed, and I spun to stare at him wildly. How could he be so calloused, so cold-blooded?
"They're just cliff diving, Bella. Recreation. La Push doesn't have a mall, you know." He was teasing, but
there was a strange note of irritation in his voice.
"Cliff diving?" I repeated, dazed. I stared in disbelief as a second figure stepped to the edge, paused, and
then very gracefully leaped into space. He fell for what seemed like an eternity to me, finally cutting
smoothly into the dark gray waves below.
"Wow. It's so high." I slid back into my seat, still staring wide-eyed at the two remaining divers. "It must
be a hundred feet."
"Well, yeah, most of us jump from lower down, that rock that juts out from the cliff about halfway." He
pointed out his window. The place he indicated did seem much more reasonable. "Those guys are insane.
Probably showing off how tough they are. I mean, really, it's freezing today. That water can't feel good."
He made a disgruntled face, as if the stunt personally offended him. It surprised me a little. I would have
thought Jacob was nearly impossible to upset.
"You jump off the cliff?" I hadn't missed the "us."
"Sure, sure." He shrugged and grinned. "It's fun. A little scary, kind of a rush."
I looked back at the cliffs, where the third figure was pacing the edge. I'd never witnessed anything so
reckless in all my life. My eyes widened, and I smiled. "Jake, you have to take me cliff diving."
He frowned back at me, his face disapproving. "Bella, you just wanted to call an ambulance for Sam," he
reminded me. I was surprised that he could tell who it was from this distance.
"I want to try," I insisted, start ing to get out of the car again.
Jacob grabbed my wrist. "Not today, all right? Can we at least wait for a warmer day?"
"Okay, fine," I agreed. With the door open, the glacial breeze was raising goose bumps on my arm. "But
I want to go soon."
"Soon." He rolled his eyes. "Sometimes you're a little strange, Bella. Do you know that?"
I sighed. "Yes."
"And we're not jumping off the top."
I watched, fascinated, as the third boy made a running start and flung himself farther into the empty air
than the other two. He twisted and cartwheeled through space as he fell, like he was skydiving. He
looked absolutely free—unthinking and utterly irresponsible.
"Fine," I agreed. "Not the first time, anyway."
Now Jacob sighed.
"Are we going to try out the bikes or not?" he demanded.
"Okay, okay," I said, tearing my eyes away from the last person waiting on the cliff. I put my seat belt
back on and closed the door. The engine was still running, roaring as it idled. We started down the road
again.
"So who were those guys—the crazy ones?" I wondered.
He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "The La Push gang."
"You have a gang?" I asked. I realized that I sounded impressed.
He laughed once at my reaction. "Not like that. I swear, they're like hall monitors gone bad. They don't
start fights, they keep the peace." He snorted. "There was this guy from up somewhere by the Makah
rez, big guy too, scary-looking. Well, word got around that he was selling meth to kids, and Sam Uley
and his disciples ran him off our land. They're all about our land, and tribe pride… it's getting
ridiculous. The worst part is that the council takes them seriously. Embry said that the council actually
meets with Sam." He shook his head, face full of resentment. "Embry also heard from Leah Clearwater
that they call themselves 'protectors' or something like that."
Jacob's hands were clenched into fists, as if he'd like to hit something. I'd never seen this side of him.
I was surprised to hear Sam Uley's name. I didn't want it to bring back the images from my nightmare, so
I made a quick observation to distract myself. "You don't like them very much."
"Does it show?" he asked sarcastically.
"Well… It doesn't sound like they're doing anything bad." I tried to soothe him, to make him cheerful
again. "Just sort of annoyingly goody-two-shoes for a gang."
"Yeah. Annoying is a good word. They're always showing off—like the cliff thing. They act like… like, I
don't know. Like tough guys. I was hanging out at the store with Embry and Quil once, last semester, and
Sam came by with his followers, Jared and Paul. Quil said something, you know how he's got a big
mouth, and it pissed Paul off. His eyes got all dark, and he sort of smiled—no, he showed his teeth but
he didn't smile—and it was like he was so mad he was shaking or something. But Sam put his hand
against Paul's chest and shook his head. Paul looked at him for a minute and calmed down. Honestly, it
was like Sam was holding him back—like Paul was going to tear us up if Sam didn't stop him." He
groaned. "Like a bad western. You know, Sam's a pretty big guy, he's twenty. But Paul's just sixteen,
too, shorter than me and not as beefy as Quil. I think any one of us could take him."
"Tough guys," I agreed. I could see it in my head as he described it, and it reminded me of something… a
trio of tall, dark men standing very still and close together in my father's living room. The picture was
sideways, because my head was lying against the couch while Dr. Gerandy and Charlie leaned over
me… Had that been Sam's gang?
I spoke quickly again to divert myself from the bleak memories. "Isn't Sam a little too old for this kind of
thing?"
"Yeah. He was supposed to go to college, but he stayed. And no one gave him any crap about it, either.
The whole council pitched a fit when my sister turned down a partial scholarship and got married. But, oh
no, Sam Uley can do no wrong."
His face was set in unfamiliar lines of outrage—outrage and something else I didn't recognize at first.
"It all sounds really annoying and… strange. But I don't get why you're taking it so personally." I peeked
over at his face, hoping I hadn't offended him. He was suddenly calm, staring out the side window.
"You just missed the turn," he said in an even voice.
I executed a very wide U-turn, nearly hitting a tree as my circle ran the truck halfway off the road.
"Thanks for the heads-up," I muttered as I started up the side road.
"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."
It was quiet for a brief minute.
"You can stop anywhere along here," he said softly.
I pulled over and cut the engine. My ears rang in the silence that followed. We both got out, and Jacob
headed around to the back to get the bikes. I tried to read his expression. Something more was bothering
him. I'd hit a nerve.
He smiled halfheartedly as he pushed the red bike to my side. "Happy late birthday. Are you ready for
this?"
"I think so." The bike suddenly looked intimidating, frightening, as I realized I would soon be astride it.
"We'll take it slow," he promised. I gingerly leaned the motorcycle against the truck's fender while he
went to get his.
"Jake…"I hesitated as he came back around the truck.
"Yeah?"
"What's really bothering you? About the Sam thing, I mean? Is there something else?" I watched his face.
He grimaced, but he didn't seem angry. He looked at the dirt and kicked his shoe against the front tire of
his bike again and again, like he was keeping time.
He sighed. "It's just… the way they treat me. It creeps me out." The words started to rush out now. "You
know, the council is supposed to be made up of equals, but if there was a leader, it would be my dad.
I've never been able to figure out why people treat him the way they do. Why his opinion counts the
most. It's got something to do with his father and his father's father. My great-grandpa, Ephraim Black,
was sort of the last chief we had, and they still listen to Billy, maybe because of that.
"But I'm just like everyone else. Nobody treats me special… until now."
That caught me off guard. "Sam treats you special?"
"Yeah," he agreed, looking up at me with troubled eyes. "He looks at me like he's waiting for
something… like I'm going to join his stupid gang someday. He pays more attention to me than any of the
other guys. I hate it."
"You don't have to join anything." My voice was angry. This was really upsetting Jacob, and that
infuriated me. Who did these "protectors" think they were?
"Yeah." His foot kept up its rhythm against the tire.
"What?" I could tell there was more.
He frowned, his eyebrows pulling up in a way that looked sad and worried rather than angry. "It's
Embry. He's been avoiding me lately."
The thoughts didn't seem connected, but I wondered if I was to blame for the problems with his friend.
"You've been hanging out with me a lot," I reminded him, feeling selfish. I'd been monopolizing him.
"No, that's not it. It's not just me—it's Quil, too, and everyone. Embry missed a week of school, but he
was never home when we tried to see him. And when he came back, he looked… he looked freaked
out. Terrified. Quil and I both tried to get him to tell us what was wrong, but he wouldn't talk to either
one of us."
I stared at Jacob, biting my lip anxiously—he was really frightened. But he didn't look at me. He watched
his own foot kicking the rubber as if it belonged to someone else. The tempo increased.
"Then this week, out of nowhere, Embry's hanging out with Sam and the rest of them. He was out on the
cliffs today." His voice was low and tense.
He finally looked at me. "Bella, they bugged him even more than they bother me. He didn't want anything
to do with them. And now Embry's following Sam around like he's joined a cult.
"And that's the way it was with Paul. Just exactly the same. He wasn't friends with Sam at all. Then he
stopped coming to school for a few weeks, and, when he came back, suddenly Sam owned him. I don't
know what it means. I can't figure it out, and I feel like I have to, because Embry's my friend and…
Sam's looking at me funny . . and…" He trailed off.
"Have you talked to Billy about this?" I asked. His horror was spreading to me. I had chills running on the
back of my neck.
Now there was anger on his face. "Yes," he snorted. "That was helpful."
"What did he say?"
Jacob's expression was sarcastic, and when he spoke, his voice mocked the deep tones of his father's
voice. "It's nothing you need to worry about now, Jacob. In a few years, if you don't… well, I'll explain
later." And then his voice was his own. "What am I supposed to get from that? Is he trying to say it's
some stupid puberty, coming-of-age thing? This is something else. Something wrong."
He was biting his lower lip and clenching his hands. He looked like he was about to cry.
I threw my arms around him instinctively, wrapping them around his waist and pressing my face against
his chest. He was so big, I felt like I was a child hugging a grown-up.
"Oh, Jake, it'll be okay!" I promised. "If it gets worse you can come live with me and Charlie. Don't be
scared, we'll think of something!"
He was frozen for a second, and then his long arms wrapped hesitantly around me. "Thanks, Bella." His
voice was huskier than usual.
We stood like that for a moment, and it didn't upset me; in fact, I felt comforted by the contact. This
didn't feel anything like the last time someone had embraced me this way. This was friendship. And Jacob
was very warm.
It was strange for me, being this close—emotionally rather than physically, though the physical was
strange for me, too—to another human being. It wasn't my usual style. I didn't normally relate to people
so easily, on such a basic level.
Not human beings.
"If this is how you're going to react, I'll freak out more often." Jacob's voice was light, normal again, and
his laughter rumbled against my ear. His fingers touched my hair, soft and tentative.
Well, it was friendship for me.
I pulled away quickly, laughing with him, but determined to put things back in perspective at once.
"It's hard to believe I'm two years older than you," I said, emphasizing the word older. "You make me
feel like a dwarf." Standing this close to him, I really had to crane my neck to see his face.
"You're forgetting I'm in my forties, of course."
"Oh, that's right."
He patted my head. "You're like a little doll," he teased. "A porcelain doll."
I rolled my eyes, taking another step away. "Let's not start with the albino cracks."
"Seriously, Bella, are you sure you're not?" He stretched his russet arm out next to mine. The difference
wasn't flattering. "I've never seen anyone paler than you… well, except for—" He broke off, and I
looked away, trying to not understand what he had been about to say.
"So are we going to ride or what?"
"Let's do it," I agreed, more enthusiastic than I would have been half a minute ago. His unfinished
sentence reminded me of why I was here.
8. ADRENALINE
"OKAY, WHERE'S YOUR CLUTCH?"
I pointed to the lever on my left handlebar. Letting go of the grip was a mistake. The heavy bike wobbled
underneath me, threatening to knock me sidewise. I grabbed the handle again, trying to hold it straight.
"Jacob, it won't stay up," I complained.
"It will when you're moving," he promised. "Now where's your brake?"
"Behind my right foot."
"Wrong."
He grabbed my right hand and curled my fingers around the lever over the throttle.
"But you said—"
"This is the brake you want. Don't use the back brake now, that's for later, when you know what you're
doing."
"That doesn't sound right," I said suspiciously. "Aren't both brakes kind of important?"
"Forget the back brake, okay? Here—" He wrapped his hand around mine and made me squeeze the
lever down. "That is how you brake. Don't forget." He squeezed my hand another time.
"Fine," I agreed.
"Throttle?"
I twisted the right grip.
"Gearshift?"
I nudged it with my left calf.
"Very good. I think you've got all the parts down. Now you just have to get itmoving."
"Uh-huh," I muttered, afraid to say more. My stomach was contorting strangely and I thought my voice
might crack. I was terrified. I tried to tell myself that the fear was pointless. I'd already lived through the
worst thing possible. In comparison with that, why should anything frighten me now? I should be able to
look death in the face and laugh.
My stomach wasn't buying it.
I stared down the long stretch of dirt road, bordered by thick misty green on every side. The road was
sandy and damp. Better than mud.
"I want you to hold down the clutch," Jacob instructed.
I wrapped my fingers around the clutch.
"Now this is crucial, Bella," Jacob stressed. "Don't let go of that, okay? I want you to pretend that I've
handed you a live grenade. The pin is out and you are holding down the spoon."
I squeezed tighter.
"Good. Do you think you can kick-start it?"
"If I move my foot, I will fall over," I told him through gritted teeth, my fingers tight around my live
grenade.
"Okay, I'll do it. Don't let go of the clutch."
He took a step back, and then suddenly slammed his foot down on the pedal. There was a short ripping
noise, and the force of his thrust rocked the bike. I started to fall sideways, but Jake caught the bike
before it knocked me to the ground.
"Steady there," he encouraged. "Do you still have the clutch?"
"Yes," I gasped.
"Plant your feet—I'm going to try again." But he put his hand on the back of the seat, too, just to be safe.
It took four more kicks before the ignition caught. I could feel the bike rumbling beneath me like an angry
animal. I gripped the clutch until my fingers ached.
"Try out the throttle," he suggested. "Very lightly. And don't let go of the clutch."
Hesitantly, I twisted the right handle. Though the movement was tiny, the bike snarled beneath me. It
sounded angry and hungry now. Jacob smiled in deep satisfaction.
"Do you remember how to put it into first gear?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Well, go ahead and do it."
"Okay."
He waited for a few seconds.
"Left foot," he prompted.
"I know," I said, taking a deep breath.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jacob asked. "You look scared."
"I'm fine," I snapped. I kicked the gearshift down one notch.
"Very good," he praised me. "Now, very gently, ease up on the clutch."
He took a step away from the bike.
"You want me to let go of the grenade?" I asked in disbelief. No wonder he was moving back.
"That's how you move, Bella. Just do it little by little."
As I began to loosen my grip, I was shocked to be interrupted by a voice that did not belong to the boy
standing next to me.
"This is reckless and childish and idiotic, Bella," the velvet voice fumed.
"Oh!" I gasped, and my hand fell off the clutch.
The bike bucked under me, yanking me forward and then collapsing to the ground half on top of me. The
growling engine choked to a stop.
"Bella?" Jacob jerked the heavy bike off me with ease. "Are you hurt?"
But I wasn't listening.
"I told you so," the perfect voice murmured, crystal clear.
"Bella?" Jacob shook my shoulder.
"I'm fine," I mumbled, dazed.
More than fine. The voice in my head was back. It still rang in my ears—soft, velvety echoes.
My mind ran swiftly through the possibilities. There was no familiarity here—on a road I'd never seen,
doing something I'd never done before—no deja vu So the hallucinations must be triggered by something
else… I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins again, and I thought I had the answer. Some
combination of adrenaline and danger, or maybe just stupidity.
Jacob was pulling me to my feet.
"Did you hit your head?" he asked.
"I don't think so." I shook it back and forth, checking. "I didn't hurt the bike, did I?" This thought worried
me. I was anxious to try again, right away. Being reckless was paying off better than I'd thought. Forget
cheating. Maybe I'd found a way to generate the hallucinations—that was much more important.
"No. You just stalled the engine," Jacob said, interrupting my quick speculations. "You let go of the clutch
too fast."
I nodded. "Let's try again."
"Are you sure?" Jacob asked.
"Positive."
This time I tried to get the kick-start myself. It was complicated; I had to jump a little to slam down on
the pedal with enough force, and every time I did that, the bike tried to knock me over. Jacob's hand
hovered over the handlebars, ready to catch me if I needed him.
It took several good tries, and even more poor tries, before the engine caught and roared to life under
me. Remembering to hold on to the grenade, I revved the throttle experimentally. It snarled at the
slightest touch. My smile mirrored Jacob's now.
"Easy on the clutch," he reminded me.
"Do you want to kill yourself, then? Is that what this is about?" the other voice spoke again, his tone
