Woman's Best Friend
Everyone deserves love. No matter their flaws, no matter their problems or their crimes. Love is what lets us call ourselves human. Even if we aren't.
Spoilers: New Moon. Major OC. Jacob-focused.
3. Chapter Two
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Sam Uley scoured First Beach well into the afternoon.
He couldn’t find anything of any consequence. Even with his hyperactive sense of smell, all he could detect were scents that were supposed to be there. The smell of his brothers, of Jacob, of the salt and the sea. Nothing jumped out at him; everything was perfectly normal. No matter how many times he trotted up and down the length of the white sand crescent, nothing ever changed.
Sam contemplated calling upon some of the other werewolves to help him, but quickly abandoned that idea. They were too rowdy to be of much help to the melancholic Jacob, and involving more people wouldn’t help the situation any. Besides, if Sam couldn’t smell anything, why would any of them?
Then an idea hit him, as he sat on the rocks overlooking the ocean. If all that lingered were ordinary scents, why not follow something that was supposed to be there? That was expected? What if it was a person that had somehow effected Jacob—not a vampire, but a human being? That would explain the lack of danger, in any case.
With that new plan in mind, Sam leapt back up and began to sort through the plethora of odors that permeated First Beach. Finally he found the strongest one; it was from the night before. He began to follow that one away from First Beach and back to the highway.
Lyn had always had an excellent sense of direction—she had to, moving around as much as she did. So she was easily able to find Forks High School from her new home, and vice versa when the time came.
The forest was a confusing place, but her "sixth sense"—the same sense that awarded her her intuition, and her supernatural "feelings"—led her well, and by following what she thought she slowly learned the exact route home.
Home. Not exactly an apt name for her most current living quarters, but better than most any other interpretation. The house was buried in the woods, dark, even less bright under the cloudless sky for its black exterior and the large trees that surrounded and shadowed it. The shutters were old, creaking ominously in the light wind, the windows tinted and lacking even in reflections of the nonexistent light. Lyn rolled her eyes as she parked her car near the front porch. It was so cliche, and it was all she could do to not make fun of it. Her "family" didn’t like it when she did that.
As soon as she had stepped out of her Chevy, boots squishing in the swamp-like front lawn, the front door banged open and out flowed Farrah, her supposed "aunt".
Farrah was one of the most beautiful people Lyn had ever met, of course, and also one of the least pleasant. She didn’t win the prize for being the most unpleasant, because she didn’t want Lyn dead, and she didn’t want to be the one to kill and/or eat Lyn herself, but that didn’t change the fact that Lyn didn’t like her in the slightest. The feeling was mutual, or, rather, mutually non-mutual, for it was more of a lack of feeling between them.
The vampiress flowed to the bottom step of the front porch, still standing beneath the overhang where she couldn’t get wet or muddy. She moved with grace, but there was a stiffness to that grace, a coldness and a harshness that sent shivers up Lyn’s spine. Her eyes were burgundy, a beautiful color, menacing under the circumstances. Her skin was white, even paler than that of some vampires, and she was tall, too, making her perfection even more astounding. She wore a long, gothic black dress, as always, that almost hurt to look at in comparison with her white skin and red eyes and went flawlessly with her long, straight, pitch-black hair.
Lyn knew that she wasn’t going to be scolded for being late, or early, though she was neither. "What is it?" she asked, keeping all emotion, especially insolence, out of her tone—something it took her years to practice and perfect so that it now comes naturally, without thinking, under any circumstance.
"You were at First Beach yesterday," Farrah snipped coldly. Her voice was tinged in a thick French accent, making her come off as even stuffier and more snobbishly proper than she would be otherwise. "Damian smelled the salt in your room when you left this morning. Explain yourself."
Lyn sighed at the order, but didn’t protest. "It’s no big deal. I was just—"
"I’ll be the one to judge what is and what isn’t ‘a big deal’," Farrah cut her off. "Now tell me the truth or you’ll be thrown out for the night."
The threat wasn’t nearly as horrendous now that she had her own car, but Lyn remembered all too well what a vampire could do to her beloved Chevy, so she didn’t argue. "I wanted to visit the ocean," she answered simply.
Farrah growled, knowing a half-truth when she saw one. "I don’t consider partial truths to be any more acceptable than lies, and you know it. Tell me why you wanted to go there, and what you did." The unspoken undercurrent was clear: And who you saw.
Lyn ground her teeth and took in a deep breath. She paused just long enough for the front door to bang open yet again.
This time a male emerged. He was broad-shouldered, muscled and cruel-looking. His hair was short and red in color, to match his scarlet eyes and golden skin. He sneered when he spotted Lyn. "She’s back already?" he snorted, not bothering to hide his distaste. He was even closer to holding the first place award for "Who hates Lyn the most in the whole wide world?" and the fact that even he wasn’t at the top of the list was something to worry about.
Farrah laughed charmingly and kissed the newcomer on the cheek, her affection plain. "Dearest Damian," she breathed happily. Then she turned her chin up to Lyn. "Go inside and make yourself useful." The conversation was over.
Lyn didn’t hesitate. She bowed her head and rushed inside, careful to not get at all close to the male vampire. Inside was dark, which annoyed her, but she couldn’t do anything about it. The house was void of light, not because the electricity wasn’t being paid for, but because the vampires had removed all the downstairs lightbulbs just to mess with her, and so she almost broke her head several times as she stumbled to the stairs and then up them.
Once on the second floor she turned on the dim light of the hallway and found her way to her room easily enough. Once inside she closed the door, more for herself than for protection against vampires.
She hadn’t brought her bookbag up to her room—there was no need to—and so she threw herself down onto her bed without another thought and buried her face into her pillow.
Farrah and Damian’s surprise had not been misplaced; it was very unusual of her to return as such an early hour of her own free will. Today, however, she feared that if she didn’t exile herself until it was time to occupy her attention with Bella Swan then she would go looking for the werewolf, Jacob Black, and that could only end badly.
Would it be such a bad thing, to allow him into your life? Afterall, if you got to know him, not only would you actually have a friend, but you would have protection. Hell—he could probably even dispatch your captors.
The thought was tempting, and Lyn had trouble beating it down with cold, hard logic; fantasy oftentimes ran away with your senses, no matter how supernatural your life is: Protection against what? I have never been physically harmed in my life. If I was, I’d be dead. And what if he’s the only one? It’s more likely that he’d be killed, as opposed to the possibility of him saving me, and I wouldn’t be able to live with that.
She rolled over with a sigh and stared up at the ceiling above. It was going to be a long three hours.
After Bella had done her homework, cleaned the house, and put the lasagna in the oven to bake, she curled up in Edward’s lap and they just laid there, on her bed, together, for a long and blissful moment. Bella’s breathing had evened considerably and she was moving so softly, her body so relaxed, that Edward wasn’t entirely sure if she was still awake.
"Bella?" he asked gently, the word a velvet caress.
As if she could resist that voice, or stay asleep as he spoke her name. She would rise from the dead for that melodious sound, she was sure. "Yes, Edward?" she responded. Regardless, she sounded out of it, as if she was suppressing a yawn.
He smiled warmly and rocked her gently, enclosed in the iron cage of his arms. "Did anything about Lyn strike you as...odd?"
Bella opened her eyes all the way then to look up at her boyfriend. His eyes were distant, peculiar, and she frowned, trying to decipher his mood. "Um...no, not really. Well, maybe a little, I guess, since she didn’t want me to pick her up; but beyond that..."
Edward nodded, his smile small and distracted. "Well I did."
Bella chuckled and rolled her eyes up at her personal Greek god. "Well of course you did. You are the mind-reader, afterall." She laughed again.
Edward couldn’t help but smile. "Yes, I am. But for how odd she was—and how little I learned from her thoughts—it wouldn’t have surprised me to find out that I couldn’t read her mind, either."
Bella’s merriment turned to a light frown and she sat up some in Edward’s lap. "What do you mean?"
Edward sighed and quickly thought of the best way to explain. "Her mind was full of...foreshadowing. And careful avoidance. What she thought wasn’t normal, exactly, rather normal enough. I could pass these words off as nothing, but when strung together it is obvious that she is not all that she seems. It was as if she didn’t think the obvious directly, like she knew I was there, or was afraid of some sort of impossible intrusion."
Bella frowned, not sure if Edward was making any sense. "Um...okay..." She trailed off.
Edward sighed, capturing her hands gently in his; they were so much smaller and warmer in comparison.
"Can you do me a favor?" he asked softly after a pregnant pause.
Bella frowned; his tone worried her, but not as much as the open-ended question warned her. Still, no matter how many times she has been taught not to agree to Edward’s requests unconditionally, she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out, "Of course." She grimaced at her own words.
Edward chuckled. "Tonight, when you go with Lyn to the movies, would you find out about her home-life and family?"
Bella breathed a sigh of relief even as her brow furrowed. "Sure. Why?"
Edward ignored her question. "Could you also figure out if she’s made any other new friends since she moved here? And other details about her time so far in Forks?"
Bella took longer to respond to him this time, her frown deepening in her confusion. "Okay...why?" she agreed and inquired, again.
Edward ignored her for a moment, until he felt that she wasn’t going to stop staring at him, waiting patiently for once rather than getting angry immediately. He sighed. "Isn’t it enough that I’m curious about her?"
Bella adamantly shook her head. "No. I want to know why you are so interested in this other girl."
Edward made a face, but it didn’t look like she was jealous, only painfully curious. He sighed. "I don’t understand what’s happening here any more than you do, Bella, but I have a feeling...please, if something comes of this I’ll tell you, alright?"
Reluctantly Bella gave into that. Her intuition was flaring up too, although not that strongly—she just knew that there was something special about Lyn. "Alright," she agreed, snuggling up to Edward with a sigh.
After a few moments Edward drawled out, amused, "Is something burning?"
Bella gasped, leapt up, and nearly tripped down the stairs and broke her leg in her haste to reach the kitchen. "The lasagna!"
Lyn didn’t know when she had fallen asleep, and she couldn’t tell what time it was by the amount of life coming in through her windows since there was never any light coming in. The sky wasn’t pitch-black yet, which she took as a good sign—she wasn’t too late yet. Her watch told her that she would only be a few minutes late if she left for Bella’s house immediately, which was fine with her. She was never one for being on time much, anyways.
She stood up somewhat shakily, stretching and yawning, swaying as she got to her feet and tried to reorient herself. Only as she was starting to step forward and grab her keys did she realize that something was wrong. Too late, she tried to move back to her bed; already she was falling forward, arms flailing in a futile attempt to save herself.
Lyn hit the floor with a dull thump. She gasped, the wind knocked out of her, and groaned, knowing that she had bruised a few ribs and would be sore for a week. Deep, impish laughter rose up from behind her, and she tried to spin around and look menacing, but only succeeded in amusing her tormentor further.
"That was hilarious!" Gregory roared, beside himself on Lyn’s bed.
She flipped herself over, still sneering, and untied the knot that connected her boots together, the source of her newfounded clumsiness. "Dammit, you!" she hissed, re-lacing her shoes, still glaring up at the third vampire of her household.
In many ways Gregory was the kindest and most human of the bunch. That, in and of itself, was an unsettling thought. He was the prankster, almost lighthearted, but still far from pleasant, as was evident in his scarlet-colored eyes. He didn’t hate Lyn—in fact, he found her amusing—but if she was to die he would feel nothing beyond regret for the loss of a plaything and the same fear and displeasure they would all feel, for the repercussions that would affect them all, the only reason that Lyn was still alive.
Gregory—real name: Gregoire—wasn’t overly tall, nor was he at all short. He was of a more average build, but with the same hardness about him that all vampires possess. Moderately young in body, he hadn’t lost a lot of the playful buoyancy of humanity. His hair was brown and untidy, his clothes baggy and torn. His specialty came in illusions, which helped with his tricking of others, though it was not by any means a strong or impressive talent; mostly he was just annoying with it.
"Were you referring to me?" he inquired innocently, laying back on Lyn’s bed and watching her, eyes still alight and cruelly amused. He would have been a decent guy—if he saw her as something more than a cow—a food source, not an equal. "You know Sister doesn’t like it when you address us so...insolently," he singsonged.
Lyn ground her teeth together, fiddling with her boots longer than necessary, trying to calm herself down. Slowly she stood up and carefully retrieved her keys. "She cares less about how I speak to you than any of the others," she snapped.
Gregory laughed loudly at that, infinitely amused. "She always was the frigid bitch of the family," he agreed, nonchalant and unaffected.
Farrah was the oldest daughter of Henri Dupont and his wife, Henrietta Malancroix. Gregoire and his twin Remy had been the oldest sons. Both families "died out" in a horrible massacre circa 1486. In truth, these three had survived, their parents and younger siblings, along with the rest of the family, murdered and drunk from by a band of secretive vampires—which had been led by Damian himself. He kept Farrah for his own, and her oldest brothers had been the last ones left. None of the vampires were hungry by that point, so two of the girls—Zoey and Svetlana—had changed them for the fun of it. None of the bodies were ever found, and it was the greatest mystery present in 15th century France.
Lyn shook her head, heading for the door. Gregory intercepted her in a flash, making it impossible for her to then move forward.
She sighed and growled. "Let me pass," she hissed.
Gregory silently refused by not budging. "Where are you going?"
"None of your damn business!" she snapped, trying to duck under his arm.
She was nowhere near fast enough, of course; he grabbed her and held her tight, being careful not to hurt her. Lyn struggled fruitlessly. "Tell me!"
Lyn half-screamed. Suddenly Gregory’s identical twin stood before her, his eyes wide and black. She fell silent and still, body going rigid. She didn’t even have time to scream.
Suddenly two high-pitched, nerve-grating witch-cackles rose up from behind him. Zoey and Svetlana were sitting on her bed, sharing in their perfect merriment. Lyn fumed, lowering her gaze, her cheeks flushed with anger and exertion.
Zoey, the German princess of the 13th century, and Svetlana, the Russian goddess of the 1400's, watched Lyn, amused, as Remy slowly taunted her, waiting for her to lose it and scream her anger out—and perhaps even cry.
A loud, roaring growl silenced all laughter, eliciting yelps from the room’s occupants. Gregory dropped Lyn and swiftly moved away from the door, as did Remy, Zoey and Svetlana flinching away. Lyn crawled to the side just in time for the door to bang open, splintering slightly as a livid Damian walked in.
"Shut the fuck up!" he roared, pissed off.
A moment later Farrah followed him inside. "Gregoire, Remy!" she hissed. They hung their heads. "Zoey, Svetlana!" They looked away. Farrah turned to Lyn, plainly disgusted. The human avoided eye-contact. "Lyn." Her voice was cold, indifferent. Detecting the faint dismissal, Lyn scrambled to her feet and ran out of the room so fast she almost fell down the stairs, her legs too weak to function properly. She didn’t care. She got out to her car just as the screaming started, and she knew it would be best not to return to the mansion until the next day, if then.
It was a good thing she kept her valuables in her truck, as well as her favorite clothes.
She drove away to the sound of destruction, fury, and fear hungering for revenge.
Lyn arrived at Bella’s house even later than she had thought she would. On the way to the Swan residence she had to tidy herself up a bit, to look presentable and not birth any difficult suspicions. It was bad enough that she was known by the one person she shouldn’t be known by—well, one of the people, anyway—but allowing someone as knowledgeable and connected as Isabella Swan to see her so affected by a world that shouldn’t exist...Well, it just wouldn’t have been smart.
Bella was standing on her front porch, looking worried and suspicious, despite Lyn’s precautions. She winced as she parked her car; half in anticipation of movement, half at her gaze.
Bella was halfway down the driveway when Lyn stepped out of her truck. She was met with a frown. Lyn allowed herself a sheepish expression as she went to meet up with her newest Forks friend.
It was a bit of a radical change, even she had to admit. But a necessary one. One that Bella would get used to, eventually, if they stayed friends—which Lyn hoped they would, since that would mean they were compatible and that she would stay in one place for an extended period of time.
Now Lyn was wearing stretchy black yoga pants that flared out over her sleeker, squared-off boots. Her shirt had butterfly wings for sleeves, but none of the skin of her arms was bared in any case thanks to her elbow-length opera gloves. Her throat was mostly obscured by the presence of a black choker with a ruby red heart pendant surrounded by grayish-black spikes. Her hair was loose and belling out over her shoulders and framing her face well, eyes hidden behind black sunglasses. On either wrist she wore a bracelet; one was composed of black pearls, the other flat onyx. Although it wasn’t easy to tell, she also wore red lipstick, foundation, mascara, and blush.
"Hey...Lyn," Bella greeted hesitantly as they stopped half a foot from one another, right behind Charlie’s police cruiser.
Lyn’s smile was dashing. "Hey, Bella. Ready to go?"
Her attitude was so energetic, so happy, as was reflected in her eager smile, that Bella couldn’t help but smile back and feel more interested in the trip than she ever had about any other non-Edward related trip before. "Of course. I’ve been ready," she reminded Lyn.
Lyn flinched and Bella laughed. "Hey, sorry about that—"
Bella cut her off, placing a hand lightly on Lyn’s arm. Lyn flinched and grimaced, which went unnoticed—by the human, but not Edward, who was watching from his perch amongst the distant trees. "It’s no problem. We can catch an evening show. Let’s go."
Lyn climbed into the Chevy’s passenger side as the engine roared to life. Bella laughed as Lyn jumped. "This old monster is loud, but indestructible."
Lyn laughed too. "I bet! It’s made of solid iron; it’ll outlive the cockroaches."
Bella nodded in agreement. "As long as I don’t try to go over fifty."
Lyn laughed at that. "I bet the gas mileage sucks."
Bella smiled as they drove away; this girl definitely had her sense of humor.