We're going to take care of this.
It wasn't over. "Laurent is dead," I gasped, and my entire body went ice cold. "Bella?" Jacob asked anxiously, touching my ashen cheek. "If Laurent died… a week ago… then someone else is killing people now."
Jacob nodded; his teeth clenched together, and he spoke through them. "There were two of them. We thought his mate would want to fight us–in our stories, they usually get pretty pissed off if you kill their mate–but she just keeps running away, and then coming back again. If we could figure out what she was after, it would be easier to take her down. But she makes no sense. She keeps dancing around the edges, like she's testing our defenses, looking for a way in–but in where? Where does she want to go? Sam thinks she's trying to separate us, so she'll have a better chance…"
His voice faded until it sounded like it was coming through a long tunnel; I couldn't make out the individual words anymore. My forehead dewed with sweat and my stomach rolled like I had the stomach flu again. Exactly like I had the flu.
I turned away from him quickly, and leaned over the tree trunk. My body convulsed with useless heaves, my empty stomach contracting with horrified nausea, though there was nothing in it to expel.
Victoria was here. Looking for me. Killing strangers in the woods. The woods where Charlie was searching…
My head spun sickeningly.
Jacob's hands caught my shoulders–kept me from sliding forward onto the rocks. I could feel his hot breath on my cheek. "Bella! What's wrong?"
"Victoria," I gasped as soon as I could catch my breath around the nauseous spasms. In my head, Edward snarled in fury at the name.
I felt Jacob pull me up from my slump. He draped me awkwardly across his lap, laying my limp head against his shoulder. He struggled to balance me, to keep me from sagging over, one way or the other He brushed the sweaty hair back from my face.
"Who?" Jacob asked. "Can you hear me, Bella? Bella?"
"She wasn't Laurent's mate," I moaned into his shoulder. "They were just old friends…" "Do you need some water? A doctor? Tell me what to do," he demanded, frantic. "I'm not sick–I'm scared," I explained in a whisper. The word scared didn't really seem to cover it.
Jacob patted my back. "Scaled of this Victoria?" I nodded, shuddering. "Victoria is the red-haired female?" I trembled again, and whimpered, "Yes."
"How do you know she wasn't his mate?" "Laurent told me James was her mate," I explained, automatically flexing the hand with the scar.
He pulled my face around, holding it steady in his big hand. He stared intently into my eyes. "Did he tell you anything else, Bella? This is important. Do you know what she wants?" "Of course," I whispered. "She wants me." His eyes flipped wide, then narrowed into slits. "Why?" he demanded.
"Edward killed James," I whispered. Jacob held me so tightly that there was no need for me to clutch at the hole–he kept me in one piece. "She did get… pissed off. But Laurent said she thought it was fairer to kill me than Edward. Mate for mate. She didn't know–still doesn't know, I guess–that… that…" I swallowed hard. "That things aren't like that with us anymore. Not for Edward, anyway."
Jacob was distracted by that, his face torn between several different expressions. "Is that what happened? Why the Cullens left?"
"I'm nothing but a human, after all. Nothing special," I explained, shrugging weakly. Something like a growl–not a real growl, just a human approximation–rumbled in Jacob's chest under my ear. "If that idiot bloodsucker is honestly stupid enough–"
"Please," I moaned. "Please. Don't."
Jacob hesitated, then nodded once.
"This is important," he said again, his face all business now. "This is exactly what we needed to know. We've got to tell the others right away."
He stood, pulling me to my feet. He kept two hands on my waist until he was sure I wasn't going to fall.
"I'm okay," I lied.
He traded his hold on my waist for one of my hands. "Let's go."
He pulled me back toward the truck.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"I'm not sure yet," he admitted. "I'll call a meeting. Hey, wait here for just a minute, okay?" He leaned me against the side of the truck and released my hand.
"Where are you going?" "I'll be right back," he promised. Then he turned and sprinted through the parking lot, across the road, and into the bordering forest. He flitted into the trees, swift and sleek as a deer. "Jacob!" I yelled after him hoarsely, but he was already gone.