Midnight Sun (The Twilight Saga #5) - Stephenie Meyer Page 0,220

lined up and Esme had bought her fixer-upper sight unseen. My siblings’ and my fake transcripts had been transferred to Forks High School. But the last step of preparation was the most important—while also the most atypical. Though we’d moved back to former homes in the past—after an appropriate amount of time had elapsed—we’d never had to give warning of our arrival before.

Carlisle had started with the internet. He’d found an amateur genealogist named Alma Young working out of the Makah Reservation. Pretending to be another family history enthusiast, he’d asked about any descendants of Ephraim Black who might still live in the area. Mrs. Young had been excited to give Carlisle the good news: Ephraim’s grandson and great-grandchildren all lived in La Push, just down the coast. Of course she didn’t mind giving Carlisle the phone number. She was sure Billy Black would be thrilled to hear from his very distant cousin.

I’d been in the house when Carlisle had made the next call, so of course I’d heard everything Carlisle had said. Billy was remembering his side of it now.

It had been such an ordinary day. The twins were out with friends, so it was just Billy and Jacob at home. Billy was teaching the boy how to whittle a sea lion out of madrona wood when the phone rang. He’d wheeled himself to the kitchen, leaving the child so focused on his work that he barely noticed his father leaving.

Billy had assumed it was Harry, or maybe Charlie. He’d answered with a cheerful “Hello!”

“Hello. Is this Billy Black?”

He didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the line, but there was something sharp and clear about it that put his back up for some reason.

“Yes, this is Billy. Who’s asking?”

“My name is Carlisle Cullen,” the soft yet piercing voice told Billy, and it felt like the floor was falling out from under him. For a wild second, he’d thought he was having a nightmare.

This name and this keen-edged voice were part of a legend, a horror story. Though he’d been warned and prepared, it had all been such a very long time ago. Billy had never actually believed that one day he’d have to live in the same world as that horror story.

“Does my name mean anything to you?” the voice asked, and Billy noticed how young it sounded. Not hundreds of years old, as it should.

Billy had struggled to find his own voice. “Yes,” he finally rasped.

He thought he heard a faint sigh.

“That’s good,” the monster replied. “It makes it easier for us to fulfill our duty.”

Billy’s mind went numb as he realized what the monster was saying. Duty. He was speaking of the treaty. Billy struggled to remember the secret accords he’d so carefully memorized. If the monster said he had a duty to discharge, then that could only mean one thing.

All the blood drained from Billy’s face and the walls seemed to tilt around him, though he knew he was sitting safe and stable in his wheelchair.

“You’re coming back,” he choked out.

“Yes,” the monster agreed. “I know this must be… unpleasant for you to hear. But I assure you that your tribe is in no danger, nor are any of the people in Forks. We have not changed our ways.”

Billy couldn’t think of anything to say. He’d been locked into this treaty since before his birth. He wanted to object, to threaten… but treaty or no, there was nothing he could do.

“We’ll be living outside Forks.” The monster rattled off a set of numbers, and it took Billy a moment to realize they were coordinates, lines of longitude and latitude. He scrambled for something to write with, and came up with a black Sharpie but no paper.

“Again,” he demanded hoarsely.

The numbers came more slowly this time, and Billy scrawled them down his arm.

“I’m not sure how well you know the agreement—”

“I know it,” Billy interrupted. The blood drinkers got a five-mile radius around the location of their lair that was off limits for any member of the tribe. It was a small space compared to the land that belonged to the tribe, but in this moment it seemed like much too much.

How would they convince any of the children to obey this rule? He thought of his own headstrong daughters and his happy-go-lucky son. None of them believed any of the stories. And yet if they ever made an innocent mistake… they’d be fair game.

“Of course,” the monster said politely. “We know it very