This time the bat somehow made it around in time to smash into the invisible ball. The crack of impact was shattering, thunderous; it echoed off the mountains - I immediately understood the necessity of the thunderstorm.
The ball shot like a meteor above the field, flying deep into the surrounding forest.
"Home run," I murmured.
"Wait," Esme cautioned, listening intently, one hand raised. Emmett was a blur around the bases, Carlisle shadowing him. I realized Edward was missing.
"Out!" Esme cried in a clear voice. I stared in disbelief as Edward sprang from the fringe of the trees, ball in his upraised hand, his wide grin visible even to me.
"Emmett hits the hardest," Esme explained, "but Edward runs the fastest."
The inning continued before my incredulous eyes. It was impossible to keep up with the speed at which the ball flew, the rate at which their bodies raced around the field.
I learned the other reason they waited for a thunderstorm to play when Jasper, trying to avoid Edward's infallible fielding, hit a ground ball toward Carlisle. Carlisle ran into the ball, and then raced Jasper to first base. When they collided, the sound was like the crash of two massive falling boulders. I jumped up in concern, but they were somehow unscathed.
"Safe," Esme called in a calm voice.
Emmett's team was up by one - Rosalie managed to flit around the bases after tagging up on one of Emmett's long flies - when Edward caught the third out. He sprinted to my side, sparkling with excitement.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"One thing's for sure, I'll never be able to sit through dull old Major
League Baseball again."
"And it sounds like you did so much of that before," he laughed.
"I am a little disappointed," I teased.
"Why?" he asked, puzzled.
"Well, it would be nice if I could find just one thing you didn't do better than everyone else on the planet."
He flashed his special crooked smile, leaving me breathless.
"I'm up," he said, heading for the plate.
He played intelligently, keeping the ball low, out of the reach of Rosalie's always-ready hand in the outfield, gaining two bases like lightning before Emmett could get the ball back in play. Carlisle knocked one so far out of the field - with a boom that hurt my ears - that he and Edward both made it in. Alice slapped them dainty high fives.
The score constantly changed as the game continued, and they razzed each other like any street ballplayers as they took turns with the lead. Occasionally Esme would call them to order. The thunder rumbled on, but we stayed dry, as Alice had predicted.
Carlisle was up to bat, Edward catching, when Alice suddenly gasped. My eyes were on Edward, as usual, and I saw his head snap up to look at her. Their eyes met and something flowed between them in an instant. He was at my side before the others could ask Alice what was wrong.
"Alice?" Esme's voice was tense.
"I didn't see - I couldn't tell," she whispered.
All the others were gathered by this time.
"What is it, Alice?" Carlisle asked with the calm voice of authority.
"They were traveling much quicker than I thought. I can see I had the perspective wrong before," she murmured.
Jasper leaned over her, his posture protective. "What changed?" he asked.
"They heard us playing, and it changed their path," she said, contrite, as if she felt responsible for whatever had frightened her.
Seven pairs of quick eyes flashed to my face and away.
"How soon?" Carlisle said, turning toward Edward.
A look of intense concentration crossed his face.
"Less than five minutes. They're running - they want to play." He scowled.
"Can you make it?" Carlisle asked him, his eyes flicking toward me again.
"No, not carrying -" He cut short. "Besides, the last thing we need is for them to catch the scent and start hunting."
"How many?" Emmett asked Alice.
"Three," she answered tersely.
"Three!" he scoffed. "Let them come." The steel bands of muscle flexed along his massive arms.
For a split second that seemed much longer than it really was, Carlisle deliberated. Only Emmett seemed unperturbed; the rest stared at Carlisle's face with anxious eyes.
"Let's just continue the game," Carlisle finally decided. His voice was
cool and level. "Alice said they were simply curious."
All this was said in a flurry of words that lasted only a few seconds. I had listened carefully and caught most of it, though I couldn't hear what Esme now asked Edward with a silent vibration of her lips. I only saw the slight shake of his head and the look of relief on her face.
"You catch, Esme," he said. "I'll call it now." And he planted himself in front of me.
The others returned to the field, warily sweeping the dark forest with their sharp eyes. Alice and Esme seemed to orient themselves around where I stood.
"Take your hair down," Edward said in a low, even voice.
I obediently slid the rubber band out of my hair and shook it out around me.
I stated the obvious. "The others are coming now."
"Yes, stay very still, keep quiet, and don't move from my side, please." He hid the stress in his voice well, but I could hear it. He pulled my long hair forward, around my face.
"That won't help," Alice said softly. "I could smell her across the field."
"I know." A hint of frustration colored his tone.
Carlisle stood at the plate, and the others joined the game halfheartedly.
"What did Esme ask you?" I whispered.
He hesitated for a second before he answered. "Whether they were thirsty," he muttered unwillingly.
The seconds ticked by; the game progressed with apathy now. No one dared to hit harder than a bunt, and Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper hovered in the infield. Now and again, despite the fear that numbed my brain, I was aware of Rosalie's eyes on me. They were expressionless, but something about the way she held her mouth made me think she was angry.
Edward paid no attention to the game at all, eyes and mind ranging the forest.
"I'm sorry, Bella," he muttered fiercely. "It was stupid, irresponsible, to expose you like this. I'm so sorry."
I heard his breath stop, and his eyes zeroed in on right field. He took a half step, angling himself between me and what was coming.
Carlisle, Emmett, and the others turned in the same direction, hearing sounds of passage much too faint for my ears.
18. THE HUNT
18. THE HUNT
They emerged one by one from the forest edge, ranging a dozen meters apart. The first male into the clearing fell back immediately, allowing the other male to take the front, orienting himself around the tall, dark-haired man in a manner that clearly displayed who led the pack. The third was a woman; from this distance, all I could see of her was that her hair was a startling shade of red.
They closed ranks before they continued cautiously toward Edward's
family, exhibiting the natural respect of a troop of predators as it encounters a larger, unfamiliar group of its own kind.
As they approached, I could see how different they were from the Cullens. Their walk was catlike, a gait that seemed constantly on the edge of shifting into a crouch. They dressed in the ordinary gear of backpackers: jeans and casual button-down shirts in heavy, weatherproof fabrics. The clothes were frayed, though, with wear, and they were barefoot. Both men had cropped hair, but the woman's brilliant orange hair was filled with leaves and debris from the woods.
Their sharp eyes carefully took in the more polished, urbane stance of Carlisle, who, flanked by Emmett and Jasper, stepped guardedly forward to meet them. Without any seeming communication between them, they each straightened into a more casual, erect bearing.
The man in front was easily the most beautiful, his skin olive-toned beneath the typical pallor, his hair a glossy black. He was of a medium build, hard-muscled, of course, but nothing next to Emmett's brawn. He smiled an easy smile, exposing a flash of gleaming white teeth.
The woman was wilder, her eyes shifting restlessly between the men facing her, and the loose grouping around me, her chaotic hair quivering in the slight breeze. Her posture was distinctly feline. The second male hovered unobtrusively behind them, slighter than the leader, his light brown hair and regular features both nondescript. His eyes, though completely still, somehow seemed the most vigilant.