"Nice to meet you, Max. Now, why don't you tell me what you do for the usual?"
His grin became a frown. "Well, J's usual clients don't look a thing like you. Your kind doesn't bother
with the downtown office. You just go straight up to his fancy office in the skyscraper."
I repeated the other address I had, making the list of numbers a question.
"Yeah, that's the place," he said, suspicious again. "How come you didn't go there?"
"This was the address I was given—by a very dependable source."
"If you were up to any good, you wouldn't be here."
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I pursed my lips. I'd never been much good at bluffing, but Alice hadn't left me a lot of alternatives.
"Maybe I'm not up to any good."
Max's face turned apologetic. "Look, lady—"
"Bella."
"Right. Bella. See, I need this job. J pays me pretty good to mostly just hang out here all day. I want to
help you, I do, but—and of course Tm speaking hypothetically, right? Or off the record, or whatever
works for you—but if I pass somebody through that could get him in trouble, I'm out of work. Do you
see my problem?"
I thought for a minute, chewing on my lip. "You've never seen anyone like me here before? Well, sort of
like me.
My sister is a lot shorter than me, and she has dark spiky black hair."
"J knows your sister?"
"I think so."
Max pondered this fora moment.I smiled at him, and his breathing stuttered."Tell you what I'll do.HI
give Ja call and describe you to him. Let him make the decision."
What did J. Jenks know? Would my description mean something to him? That was a troubling thought.
"My last name is Cullen," I told Max, wondering if that was too much information. I was starting to get
irritated with Alice. Did I really have to be quite this blind? She could have given me one or two more
words…
"Cullen, got it."
I watched as he dialed, easily picking out the number. Well, I could call J. Jenks myself if this didn't
work.
"HeyJ, it's Max. I know I'm never supposed tocall you at this number except in an emergency___"
Is there an emergency?1 heard faintly from the other end.
"Well, notexactly. It's this girl who wants to see you___"
/ fail to see the emergency in that Why didn't you follow normal procedure?
"I didn't follow normal procedure 'cause she don't look like any kind of normal—"
Is she a badge?!
"No—"
You can't be sure about that. Does she look like one ofKubarev's— ?
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"No—let me talk, okay? She says you know her sister or something."
Not likely. What does she look like?
"She looks like . . ." His eyes ran from my face to my shoes appreciatively. "Well, she looks like a
freaking supermodel, that's what she looks like." I smiled and he winked at me, then went on. "Rocking
body, pale as a sheet, dark brown hair almost to her waist, needs a good night's sleep—any of this
soundingfamiliar?"
No, it doesn't I'm not happy that you let your weakness for pretty women interrupt —
"Yeah,so I'ma sucker for the pretty ones, what's wrong with that? I'm sorry I bothered you, man. Just
forget it."
"Name," I whispered.
"Oh right. Wait," Max said. "She says her name is Bella Cullen. That help?"
There was a beat of dead silence, and then the voice on the other end was abruptly screaming, using a
lot of words you didn't often hear outside of truck stops. Max's whole expression changed; all the joking
vanished and his lips went pale.
"Because you didn't ask!" Max yelled back, panicked.
There was another pause while J collected himself.
Beautiful and pale?J asked, a tiny bit calmer.
"I said that, didn't I?"
Beautiful and pale? What did this man know about vampires? Was he one of us himself? I wasn't
prepared for
that kind of confrontation. I gritted my teeth. What had Alice gotten me into?
Max waited for a minute through another volley of shouted insults and instructions and then glanced at
me with eyes that were almost frightened. "But you only meet downtown clients on Thursdays—okay,
okay! On it.'7He slid his phone shut.
"He wants to see me?" I asked brightly.
Max glowered. "You could have told me you were a priority client;7
"I didn't know I was."
"I thought you might be a cop," he admitted. "I mean, you don't look like a cop. But you act kind of
weird, beautiful."
I shrugged.
"Drug cartel?" he guessed.
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"Who, me?" I asked.
"Yeah. Or your boyfriend or whatever."
"Nope, sorry. I'm not really a fan of drugs, and neither is my husband. Just say no and all that."
Max cussed under his breath. "Married. Can't catch a break."
I smiled.
"Mafia?"
"Nope."
"Diamondsmuggling?"
"Please! Is that the kind of people you usually deal with, Max? Maybe you need a new job."
I had to admit, I was enjoying myself a little. I hadn't interacted with humans much besides Charlie and
Sue. It was entertaining to watch him flounder. I was also pleased at how easy it was not to kill him.
"You've got to be involved in something big. And bad," he mused.
"It's not really like that."
"That's what they all say. But who else needs papers? Or can afford to pay J's prices for them, I should
say. None of my business, anyway," he said, and then muttered the word married again.
He gave me an entirely new address with basic directions, and then watched me drive away with
suspicious, regretful eyes.
At this point, I was ready for almost anything—some kind of James Bond villain's high-tech lair seemed
appropriate. So I thought Max must have given me the wrong address as a test. Or maybe the lair was
subterranean, underneath this very commonplace strip mall nestled up against a wooded hill in a nice
family neighborhood.
I pulled into an open spot and looked up at a tastefully subtle sign that read JASON SCOTT,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
The office inside was beige with celery green accents, inoffensive and unremarkable. There was no scent
of vampire here, and that helped me relax. Nothing but unfamiliar human. A fish tank was set into the
wall, and a blandly
pretty blond receptionist sat behind the desk.
"Hello," she greeted me. "How can I help you?"
"I'm here to see Mr. Scott."
"Do you have an appointment?"
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"Not exactly."
She smirked a little. "It could be a while, then. Why don't you have a seat while I—"
April!a man's demanding voice squawked from the phone on her desk. I'm expecting a Ms. Cullen
shortly.
I smiled and pointed to myself.
Send her in immediately. Do you understand? I don't care what it's interrupting.
I could hear something else in his voice besides impatience. Stress. Nerves.
"She's just arrived," April said as soon as she could speak.
What? Send her in! What are you waiting for?
"Right away, Mr. Scott!" She got to her feet, fluttering her hands as she led the way down a short
hallway, offering me coffee or tea or anything else I might have wanted.
"Here you are," she said as she ushered me through the door into a power office, complete with heavy
wooden desk and vanity wall.
"Close the door behind you," a raspy tenor voice ordered.
I examined the man behind the desk while April made a hasty retreat. He was short and balding,
probably around fifty-five, with a paunch. He wore a red silk tie with a blue-and-white-striped shirt, and
his navy blazer hung over the back of his chair. He was also trembling, blanched to a sickly paste color,
with sweat beading on his forehead; I imagined an ulcer churning away under the spare tire.
J recovered himself and rose unsteadily from his chair. He reached his hand across the desk.
"Ms. Cullen. What an absolute delight."
I crossed to him and shook his hand quickly once. He cringed slightly at my cold skin but did not seem
particularly surprised by it.
"Mr. Jenks. Or do you prefer Scott?"
He winced again. "Whatever you wish, of course."
"How about you call me Bella, and HI call you J?"
"Like old friends," he agreed, mopping a silk handkerchief across his forehead. He gestured for me to
have a seat and took his own. "I must ask, am I finally meeting Mr. Jasper's lovely wife?"
I weighed that for a second. So this man knew Jasper, not Alice. Knew him, and seemed afraid of him,
too. "His sister-in-law, actually."
He pursed his lips, as if he were grasping for meanings just as desperately as I was.
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"I trust Mr. Jasper is in good health?" he asked carefully.
"I'm sure he is in excellent health. He's on an extended vacation at the moment."
This seemed to clear up some of J's confusion. He nodded to himself and templed his fingers. "Just so.
You should have come to the main office. My assistants there would have put you straight through to me
—no need to go through less hospitable channels."
I just nodded. I wasn't sure why Alice had given me the ghetto address.
"Ah, well, you're here now. What can I do for you?"
Tapers," I said, trying to make my voice sound like I knew what I was talking about.
"Certainly," J agreed at once. "Are we talking birth certificates, death certificates, drivers' licenses,
passports, social security cards… ?"
I took a deep breath and smiled. I owed Max big time.
And then my smile faded. Alice had sent me here for a reason, and I was sure it was to protect
Renesmee. Her last gift to me. The one thing she would know I needed.
The only reason Renesmee would need a forger was if she was running. And the only reason Renesmee
would be running was if we had lost.
If Edward and I were running with her, she wouldn't need these documents right away. I was sure IDs
were something Edward knew how to get his hands on or make himself, and I was sure he knew ways to
escape without them. We could run with her for thousands of miles. We could swim with her across an
ocean.
If we were around to save her.
And all the secrecy to keep this out of Edward's head. Because there was a good chance that everything
he knew, Aro would know. If we lost, Aro would certainly get the information he craved before he
destroyed Edward.
It was as I had suspected. We couldn't win. But we must have a good shot at killing Demetri before we
lost, giving Renesmee the chance to run.
My still heart felt like a boulder in my chest—a crushing weight. All my hope faded like fog in the
sunshine. My eyes pricked.
Who would I put this on? Charlie? But he was so defenselessly human. And how would I get Renesmee
to him? He was not going to be anywhere close to that fight. So that left one person. There really had
never been anyone else.
I'd thought this through so quickly that J didn't notice my pause.
"Two birth certificates, two passports, one driver's license," I said in a low, strained tone.
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If he noticed the change in my expression, he pretended otherwise.
"The names?"
"Jacob… Wolfe. And… Vanessa Wolfe." Nessie seemed like an okay nickname for Vanessa. Jacob
would get a kick out of the Wolfe thing.
His pen scratched swiftly across a legal pad. "Middle names?"
"Just put something generic in."
"If you prefer. Ages?"
"Twenty-seven for the man, five for the girl." Jacob could pull it off. He was a beast. And at the rate
Renesmee was growing, I'd better estimate high. He could be her stepfather…
"I'll need pictures if you prefer finished documents," J said, interrupting my thoughts. "Mr. Jasper usually
liked to finish them himself."
Well, that explained why J didn't know what Alice looked like.
"Hold on," I said.
This was luck. I had several family pictures shoved in my wallet, and the perfect one—Jacob holding
Renesmee on the front porch steps—was only a month old. Alice had given it to me just a few days
before… Oh. Maybe there wasn't that much luck involved after all. Alice knew I had this picture. Maybe
she'd even had some dim flash that I would need it before she gave it to me.
"Here you go."
J examined the picture for a moment. "Your daughter is very like you."
I tensed. "She's more like her father."
"Who is not this man." He touched Jacob's face.
My eyes narrowed, and new sweat beads popped out on J's shiny head.
"No. That is a very close friend of the family."
"Forgive me," he mumbled, and the pen began scratching again. "How soon will you need the
documents?"
"Can I get them in a week?"
"That's a rush order. It will cost twice as—but forgive me. I forgot with whom I was speaking."
Clearly, he knew Jasper.
"Just give me a number."
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He seemed hesitant to say it aloud, though I was sure, having dealt with Jasper, he must have known that
price wasn't really an object. Not even taking into consideration the bloated accounts that existed all over
the world with the Cullens' various names on them, there was enough cash stashed all over the house to
keep a small country afloat for a decade; it reminded me of the way there were always a hundred
fishhooks in the back of any drawer at Charlie's house. I doubted anyone would even notice the small
stack I'd removed in preparation for today.
J wrote the price down on the bottom of the legal pad.
I nodded calmly. I had more than that with me. I unclasped my bag again and counted out the right
amount—I had it all paper-clipped into five-thousand-dollar increments, so it took no time at all.
"There."
"Ah, Bella, you don't really have to give me the entire sum now. It's customary for you to save half to
ensure delivery."
I smiled wanly at the nervous man. "But I trust you, J. Besides, I'll give you a bonus—the same again
when I get the documents."
"That's not necessary, I assure you."
"Don't worry about it." It wasn't like I could take it with me. "So HI meet you here next week at the
same time?"
He gave me a pained look. "Actually, I prefer to make such transactions in places unrelated to my
various businesses."
"Of course. I'm sure I'm not doing this the way you expect."
"I'm used to having no expectations when it comes to the Cullen family." He grimaced and then quickly
composed his face again. "Shall we meet at eight o'clock a week from tonight at The Pacifico? It's on
Union Lake, and the food is exquisite."
"Perfect." Not that I would be joining him for dinner. He actually wouldn't like it much if I did.
I rose and shook his hand again. This time he didn't flinch. But he did seem to have some new worry on
his mind. His mouth was pinched up, his back tense.
"Will you have trouble with that deadline?" I asked.
"What?" He looked up, taken off guard by my question. "The deadline? Oh, no. No worries at all. I will
certainly have your documents done on time."
It would have been nice to have Edward here, so that I would know what J's real worries were. I
sighed. Keeping secrets from Edward was bad enough; having to be away from him was almost too
much.
"Then HI see you in one week."
34. DECLARED
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I heard the music before I was out of the car. Edward hadn't touched his piano since the night Alice left.
Now, as I shut the car door, I heard the song morph through a bridge and change into my lullaby.
Edward was welcoming me home.
I moved slowly as I pulled Renesmee—fast asleep; we'd been gone all day—from the car. We'd left
Jacob at Charlie's—he'd said he was going to catch a ride home with Sue. I wondered if he was trying to
fill his head with enough trivia to crowd out the image of the way my face had looked when I'd walked
through Charlie's door.
As I walked slowly to the Cullen house now, I recognized that the hope and uplift that seemed almost a
visible aura around the big white house had been mine this morning, too. It felt alien to me now.
I wanted to cry again, hearing Edward play for me. But I pulled it together. I didn't want him to be
suspicious. I would leave no clues in his mind for Aro if I could help it.
Edward turned his head and smiled when I came in the door, but kept playing.
"Welcome home," he said, as if this was just any normal day. As if there weren't twelve other vampires
in the room involved in various pursuits, and a dozen more scattered around somewhere. "Did you have a
good time with Charlie today?"
"Yes. Sorry I was gone so long. I stepped out to do a little Christmas shopping for Renesmee. I know it
won't be much of an event, but…" I shrugged.
Edward's lips turned down. He quit playing and spun around on the bench so that his whole body was
facing me. He put one hand on my waist and pulled me closer. "I hadn't thought much about it. If you
want to make an event of it—"
"No," I interrupted him. I flinched internally at the idea of trying to fake more enthusiasm than the bare
minimum. "I just didn't want to let it pass without giving her something."
"Do I get to see?"
"If you want. It's only a little thing."
Renesmee was completely unconscious, snoring delicately against my neck. I envied her. It would have
been nice to escape reality, even for just a few hours.
Carefully, I fished the little velvet jewelry bag from my clutch without opening the purse enough for
Edward to see the cash I was still carrying.
"It caught my eye from the window of an antique store while I was driving by."
I shook the little golden locket into his palm. It was round with a slender vine border carved around the
outside edge of the circle. Edward popped the tiny catch and looked inside. There was space for a small
picture and, on the opposite side, an inscription in French.
"Do you know what this says?" he asked in a different tone, more subdued than before.
"The shopkeeper told me it said something along the lines of 'more than my own life.' Is that right?"
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"Yes, he had it right."
He looked up at me, his topaz eyes probing. I met his gaze for a moment, then pretended to be
distracted by the television.
"I hope she likes it," I muttered.
"Of course she will," he said lightly, casually, and I was sure in that second that he knew I was keeping
something from him. I was also sure that he had no idea of the specifics.
"Let's take her home," he suggested, standing and putting his arm around my shoulders.
I hesitated.
"What?" he demanded.
"I wanted to practice with Emmett a little___" I'd lost the whole day to my vital errand; it made me feel
behind.
Emmett—on the sofa with Rose and holding the remote, of course—looked up and grinned in
anticipation. "Excellent. The forest needs thinning."
Edward frowned at Emmett and then at me.
"There's plenty of time for that tomorrow," he said.
"Don't be ridiculous," I complained. "There's no such thing as plenty of time anymore. That concept
does not exist. I have a lot to learn and—"
He cut me off. "Tomorrow."
And his expression was such that not even Emmett argued.
i was surprised at how hard it was to go back to a routine that was, after all, brand new. But stripping
away even that little bit of hope I'd been fostering made everything seem impossible.
I tried to focus on the positives. There was a good chance that my daughter was going to survive what
was
coming, and Jacob, too. If they had a future, then that was a kind of victory, wasn't it? Our little band
must be going to hold their own if Jacob and Renesmee were going to have the opportunity to run in the
first place. Yes, Alice's strategy only made sense if we were going to put up a really good fight. So, a
kind of victory there, too, considering that the Volturi had never been seriously challenged in millennia.
It was not going to be the end of the world. Just the end of the Cullens. The end of Edward, the end of
me.
I preferred it that way—the last part anyway. I would not live without Edward again; if he was leaving
this world, then I would be right behind him.
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I wondered idly now and then if there would be anything for us on the other side. I knew Edward didn't
really believe so, but Carlisle did. I couldn't imagine it myself. On the other hand, I couldn't imagine
Edward not existing somehow, somewhere. If we could be together in any place, then that was a happy
ending.
And so the pattern of my days continued, just that much harder than before.
We went to see Charlie on Christmas Day, Edward, Renesmee, Jacob, and I. All of Jacob's pack were
there, plus Sam, Emily, and Sue. It was a big help to have them there in Charlie's little rooms, their huge,
warm bodies wedged into corners around his sparsely decorated tree—you could see exactly where he'd
gotten bored and quit—and overflowing his furniture. You could always count on werewolves to be
buzzed about a coming fight, no matter how suicidal. The electricity of their excitement provided a nice
current that disguised my utter lack of spirit. Edward was, as always, a better actor than I was.
Renesmee wore the locket I'd given her at dawn, and in her jacket pocket was the MP3 player Edward
had given her—a tiny thing that held five thousand songs, already filled with Edward's favorites. On her
wrist was an intricately braided Quileute version of a promise ring. Edward had gritted his teeth over that
one, but it didn't bother me.
Soon, so soon, I would be giving her to Jacob for safekeeping. How could I be bothered by any symbol
of the commitment I was so relying on?
Edward had saved the day by ordering a gift for Charlie, too. It had shown up yesterday—priority
overnight shipping—and Charlie spent all morning reading the thick instruction manual to his new fishing
sonar system.
From the way the werewolves ate, Sue's lunch spread must have been good. I wondered how the
gathering would have looked to an outsider. Did we play our parts well enough? Would a stranger have
thought us a happy circle of friends, enjoying the holiday with casual cheer?
I think Edward and Jacob both were as relieved as I was when it was time to go. It felt odd to spend
energy on the human fagade when there were so many more important things to be doing. I had a hard
time concentrating. At the same time, this was perhaps the last time I would see Charlie. Maybe it was a
good thing that I was too numb to really register that.
I hadn't seen my mother since the wedding, but I found I could only be glad for the gradual distancing
that had begun two years ago. She was too fragile for my world. I didn't want her to have any part of
this. Charlie was stronger.
Maybe even strong enough for a goodbye now, but I wasn't.
It was very quiet in the car; outside, the rain was just a mist, hovering on the edge between liquid and
ice. Renesmee sat on my lap, playing with her locket, opening and closing it. I watched her and imagined
the things I would say to Jacob right now if I didn't have to keep my words out of Edward's head.
If its ever safe again, take her to Charlie. Tell him the whole story someday. Tell him how much I loved
him, how I couldn't bear to leave him even when my human life was over. Tell him he was the best father.
Tell him to pass my love on to Renee, all my hopes that she will be happy and well…
I would have to give Jacob the documents before it was too late. I would give him a note for Charlie,
too. And a letter for Renesmee. Something for her to read when I couldn't tell her I loved her anymore.
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There was nothing unusual about the outside of the Cullen house as we pulled into the meadow, but I
could hear some kind of subtle uproar inside. Many low voices murmured and growled. It sounded
intense, and it sounded like an argument. I could pick out Carlisle's voice and Amun's more often than the
others.
Edward parked in front of the house rather than going around to the garage. We exchanged one wary
glance before we got out of the car.
Jacob's stance changed; his face turned serious and careful. I guessed that he was in Alpha mode now.
Obviously, something had happened, and he was going to get the information he and Sam would need.
"Alistair is gone," Edward murmured as we darted up the steps.
Inside the front room, the main confrontation was physically apparent. Lining the walls was a ring of
spectators, every vampire who had joined us, except for Alistair and the three involved in the quarrel.
Esme, Kebi, and Tia were the closest to the three vampires in the center; in the middle of the room,
Amun was hissing at Carlisle and Benjamin.
Edward's jaw tightened and he moved quickly to Esme's side, towing me by the hand. I clutched
Renesmee tightly to my chest.
"Amun, if you want to go, no one is forcing you to stay," Carlisle said calmly.
"You're stealing half my coven, Carlisle!" Amun shrieked, stabbing one finger at Benjamin. "Is that why
you called me here? To steal from me?"
Carlisle sighed, and Benjamin rolled his eyes.
"Yes, Carlisle picked a fight with the Volturi, endangered his whole family, just to lure me here to my
death," Benjamin said sarcastically. "Be reasonable, Amun. I'm committed to do the right thing here—I'm
not joining any other coven. You can do whatever you want, of course, as Carlisle has pointed out."
"This won't end well," Amun growled. "Alistair was the only sane one here. We should all be running."
"Think of who you're calling sane," Tia murmured in a quiet aside.
"We're all going to be slaughtered!"
"It's not going to come to a fight," Carlisle said in a firm voice.
"You say!"
"If it does, you can always switch sides, Amun. I'm sure the Volturi will appreciate your help."
Amun sneered at him. "Perhaps that is the answer."
Carlisle's answer was soft and sincere. "I wouldn't hold that against you, Amun. We have been friends
for a long time, but I would never ask you to die for me."
Amun's voice was more controlled, too. "But you're taking my Benjamin down with you."
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Carlisle put his hand on Amun's shoulder; Amun shook it off.
"I'll stay, Carlisle, but it might be to your detriment. I will join them if that's the road to survival. You're
all fools to think that you can defy the Volturi." He scowled, then sighed, glanced at Renesmee and me,
and added in an exasperated tone, "I will witness that the child has grown. That's nothing but the truth.
Anyone would see that."
"That's all we've ever asked."
Amun grimaced, "But not all that you are getting, it seems." He turned on Benjamin. "I gave you life.
You're wasting it."
Benjamin's face looked colder than I'd ever seen it; the expression contrasted oddly with his boyish
features. "It's a pity you couldn't replace my will with your own in the process; perhaps then you would
have been satisfied with me."
Amun's eyes narrowed. He gestured abruptly to Kebi, and they stalked past us out the front door.
"He's not leaving," Edward said quietly to me, "but he'll be keeping his distance even more from now on.
He wasn't bluffing when he spoke of joining the Volturi."
"Why did Alistair go?" I whispered.
"No one can be positive; he didn't leave a note. From his mutters, it's been clear that he thinks a fight is
inevitable. Despite his demeanor, he actually does care too much for Carlisle to stand with the Volturi. I
suppose he decided the danger was too much." Edward shrugged.
Though our conversation was clearly just between the two of us, of course everyone could hear it.
Eleazar answered Edward's comment like it had been meant for all.
"From the sound of his mumblings, it was a bit more than that. We haven't spoken much of the Volturi
agenda, but Alistair worried that no matter how decisively we can prove your innocence, the Volturi will
not listen. He thinks they will find an excuse to achieve their goals here."
The vampires glanced uneasily at one another. The idea that the Volturi would manipulate their own
sacrosanct law for gain was not a popular idea. Only the Romanians were composed, their small
half-smiles ironic. They seemed amused at how the others wanted to think well of their ancient enemies.
Many low discussions began at the same time, but it was the Romanians I listened to. Maybe because
the fair-haired Vladimir kept shooting glances in my direction.
"I do so hope Alistair was right about this," Stefan murmured to Vladimir. "No matter the outcome,
