Edward woke to darkness. He assumed he was dead, and he didn't like the looks of the afterlife. He was cold, for one thing. He didn’t see his farm, or anything else, for that matter. There were no angels, no clouds, but also no demons. He sat up tentatively and discovered his head throbbed like no other. He couldn't seem to catch his bearings from his position, so he moved to all fours until he was positive he could straighten without keeling over.
The earth beneath his palms was damp and had an unpleasant smell. There were trees, so he could deduce that it was not his field. The moon was a full orange globe in the sky, so low and close that one could imagine touching it. He heard a sound behind him and stood fully. A rustling in the branches of a thornbush had him on alert, though there was nothing to defend himself with. A rabbit emerged, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The bird of prey that cawed sent both Edward and the hare scurrying.
With his heart settled uncomfortably in his throat, Edward began to walk. He normally had a decent sense of direction, but everything he thought he knew was skewed. Using the harvest moon as his guide, he trekked home. ‘Twas a long walk, filled with the eerie sounds of the forest at night. He knew there was more to be afraid of than bears now and his body remained tense as he awaited the attack from the vampire woman.
When at last he arrived, he gauged it had been at least an hour that had passed. The house was lit from within, smoke curling from the chimney that sat in the kitchen. Edward frowned, knowing he had not left any candles or fires lit. He went to the door and attempted to turn the knob, only to find it locked securely. He heard voices; a man’s and a woman’s. He knocked on his own door, wondering if the night could grow any stranger.
Jacob Black opened the door, a bottle of amber liquid in one hand and a woman under his opposite arm. She was not dressed appropriately, and Edward averted his gaze. “Black, what in the devil are you doing in my home?”
Jacob stared at him malevolently. “Sorry, you must be confused. This is my house.”
The woman giggled and ran her hands over Black’s chest. His shirt was partially opened and covered in stains.
Edward’s brow furrowed heavily. “You're in my house and you know it, Black. Get out.”
“Or what? I don’t know you, and I have a deed with my name on it. Don't make me shoot you and have to claim I was defending my property.”
“What is the meaning of this? Of course you know me, you’ve been trying to get my land since before Pa died! Get out!”
Edward tried to force his way past his enemy and the groping woman, but Jacob barred the way and slammed the door in his face.
Edward howled in anger and beat his fists on the door. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”
The next time the door opened a very long firearm was pointed in his face. He put his hands up without a second thought and took a step back. Gone was the female companion and any semblance of pretense from Jacob Black. “Get the fuck away from the house, Masen. You lost the fight. It’s mine. Why don't you go cry to your devil woman.”
Edward retreated several steps into the yard as the door was slammed once more. He had no house and had no idea where Isabella had gone. She would have been of great help to him just then. His throat no longer ached, and as he felt along the skin, all of the bite marks had healed. He didn't feel one hundred percent himself, mostly because he was hungry, but he no longer felt like he was on the verge of death. He supposed the amount of sleep he’d gotten had allowed his body to restore his blood to an acceptable level. It was odd, but he found he missed Isabella appearing out of nowhere and begging him to be with her.
He wandered, drifting slowly in the direction of the center of town. He didn't know where to go. He needed a roof over his head and a source of income. He would visit the mayor the minute the sun came up, but in the meantime he had to figure out where to sleep for the night, assuming he could fall back asleep. There was an inn, but he had no money on his person. There was the alley between the jail and the baker’s, where one man slept already. Sometimes the man found scraps of bread that had been thrown out before they were moldy. It was the best he could hope for currently, which he knew was a sad state of affairs. He thought of his mother and father and all the promises he’d made to them. He was failing them, but he was powerless to do anything about his failings at the moment.
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