"Jacob." Edward's voice was dangerously low, and had none of the polite civility that it had earlier.
"Bloodsucker," was the werewolf's only bitter reply.
"I warned you. I told you if you touched her again, I would kill you myself."
"Oh, cut the crap. Bring it on, leech."
Edward remained immobile, granite-body as still as a statue in the pale moonlight. Across from him, Jacob shivered with fury, body tensing and eager to get into a fight that was inevitable. A fight that he was praying he would win. The air was tense, fuelled by their rivalry and the though that it could end there, at that very moment, that they would finally put the last two years of struggle behind them.
Well, it would be behind one of them, anyway. This wasn't going to be like some pack scuffle. One of them wasn't going to come out of this in one piece. One of them was going to toast the flames that rose over the other's severe body by morning. Neither of them knew which one it was.
Edward knew Alice was going to be furious. She was probably on the phone with every member of his family know, informing them – alarming them – of his predicament. It didn't matter. It would be over shortly, and she had no way of knowing where he was. He supposed he should be slightly thankful for the block the werewolf provided in his sister's ability to foresee things. He didn't want any interruptions. He wanted to take care of this, once and for all, by himself.
He couldn't think of what Bella was going to say. He'd have to tell her, of course, but for the moment, he settled with the victory of defeating the disgusting dog that paced back and forth before him. His thoughts seemed to jump out of his head, throwing themselves at Edward, beating him mentally with the images Jacob knew would hurt the most: Bella's face. Edward steeled himself against it. It didn't matter now. He would deal with the consequences later. Right now he had something more important to take care of.
"What are you waiting for?" Jacob demanded, voice high-strung, almost like a whine.
"You, of course," Edward answered silkily, voice as smooth as velvet. He could wait all night for this to start. Unlike Jacob, he had spent the last century developing patience and self-restraint. Those traits would be his biggest assets now.
With a hefty snarl, Jacob dived forward, massive body shaking as he phased into a russet-coloured wolf. Edward stepped lightly to the side, spinning deftly to face the wolf as he circled, teeth snapping viciously together. Jacob couldn't hurt him while he was still human, they both knew that – so Jake had made the first move. There was no going back now.
"Impatient mongrel," Edward goaded. There was no point in being polite to a werewolf. Especially not to a werewolf that was going to be dead in the next hour. He could feel the wrath radiating from Jake's mind, the pack finally alerted to his presence. They had been searching all night. It wouldn't matter, even if they ran at their fastest, they wouldn't get here in time.
Jacob lunged again, jaws snapping together on thin air as Edward just barely jerked his hand away. He was being distracted, and Jacob knew it. It was hard enough to keep Jacob's thought from interfering, but now – in wolf form – he had the entire pack's to deal with as well. Edward's brilliantly white teeth glittered in the moonlight, his voice echoing across the rock in a vicious snarl. He couldn't think about that. He couldn't let their thoughts impede him. He was doing this, even if the pack hunted him down later. He was doing it for Bella.
Feinting left, he pounced, fist crushing into the wolf's muzzle, pushing those rock-smashing teeth out of the way as he landed on the creature's back. One savage kick easily broke Jacob's back leg, while his free hand gouged open a raw, red wound in his side. Edward's honey-coloured gaze melted, shifting between black and amber. The blood was enticing.
Not enticing enough that he'd consider eating a werewolf. With a growl, he rolled off him, teeth clicking together sharply as he felt something sharp and strong scrape along his thigh. He didn't need to glance down to know that his pants were torn. Across the ivory length of his leg there was a thin, brilliantly white gouge, almost as if someone had taken a nail and dragged it down a marble statue. Edward seethed. He wouldn't let the wolf touch him again.
Across the clearing, Jacob remained on his feet, despite his obvious injuries. His leg had fixed itself in an awkward bend, and was probably already beginning to heal incorrectly. The wound on his side had closed, though it was just as red as it had been when it was newly opened. Their was obvious pain in his eyes, but the fury of the fight clouded it from his mind.
Waves of howling burst out around Edward, and he was seized with a moment of panic. The pack couldn't be here already, they were too far off. None of them could run that fast. Jacob leapt at him, voice echoing their calls. His seemed so much more real, so concrete. Dropping to his back, Edward drove his feet upward, tossing Jacob over him like a rag doll. They weren't here. The howls were in his head. They were only trying to make him think they had arrived, that they were surrounding him. They weren't there, and they never would be.
Jacob hit the rock face with a crash that sounded like thunder, the way it echoed around the valley. In seconds they were both back on their feet, Jacob limping, but eyes fixed on Edward, waiting for a slip, for any hole in his defence. They paced, circling each other – waiting for the perfect moment. Until then, Edward's attacks had been purely defensive, catching Jacob's thrusts and throwing him back. Now his feet moved faster, turning a step ahead of Jake, using the wolf's thoughts to pinpoint his next move.
Without a sound they leapt across the clearing at each other. Jacob's paws hit Edward squarely in the chest, but there was nothing those claws could do against solid stone. Only his teeth could rend any part of that immortal flesh from his body. Impossibly fast, his jaws snapped tightly together, grating as teeth sunk into cold rock. A victorious glimmer shot through his eyes, lighting up those coal black depths. With an unnaturally guttural snarl he ripped himself away, expecting to see a maimed and defeated looking vampire glaring at him from across the clearing.
But Edward was fine. His back was straight as he watched Jacob, eyes radiating a sorrowful golden light. Jacob's chest heaved as he dragged down the lungfuls of air that had been crushed out of him when they collided. It didn't make sense. He knew he had gotten hold of something. Why was Edward still in one piece? And why did he look so miserable?
Jacob's legs shook underneath him, suddenly unsure of their ability to support his massive weight. As he dropped to the ground, he noticed something in Edward's right hand. The vampire hadn't moved an inch. His gaze was still focused, but it was easy to see that his mind wasn't there. This was his chance! While Edward was distracted, he had to attack! With a high-pitched yelp, he tried to jump at him again, but never made it off the ground. This didn't make sense! What was wrong with him?
The adrenaline in his system vanished, replaced by cold fear. Why couldn't he move? And what was that smell? It was warm, salty almost, with a rusty tinge. Where was it coming from? His eyes rolled around, looking everywhere as he tipped to the side, legs collapsing beneath him. He couldn't move his head, only his eyes as they frantically searched the clearing for the answer, never thinking to search himself.
They were alone. It was only him and Edward, and Edward wasn't anywhere near him. No one was holding him down, but still – he couldn't move. His entire body felt like a stone, sprawled out across the grassy floor. What was Edward waiting for?
In his head the voices of his pack suddenly broke through his senses like a wave rushing onto the shore. Mournful howls echoed around him, choruses of his own name leapt begging through his mind. He didn't understand. In one huge voice, the pack cried out, calling for him, but the longer he listened the quieter they became. Slowly, the voices began to separate, growing dimmer with each passing second. A rushing sound filled his ears, and for a moment he though Edward had jumped again, but the vampire hadn't moved.
He had dropped the thing in his hand. It now sat in a rank heap in front of his feet. Even from a distance, Jacob could recognise it. His own scent filled his nostrils briefly, welling up inside him before dispersing. Suddenly he didn't smell anything at all. The roaring in his ears grew louder. His vision blurred as the last few minutes raced through his head.
They had collided. Jacob had his paws digging into Edward's chest, but to no avail. Only his teeth could do damage. So he sunk them into his flesh. There was no mistaking that cold, rocky taste in his mouth. But what had he gotten? As if he was watching the moment from outside of himself, he saw Edward's fingers curling around his throat, going past the fur, getting a firm grip on the tender flesh. It was his left hand that Jake had found. His jaws tightened. He had him, he knew he had him. So he had pushed away, and part of him had gone with Edward.
Like an unmoving vice, Edward's fingers had sunk deep into the wolf's fur, through the skin and into his flesh. The force of Jake kicking away from him was all he needed. He jumped away, a bleeding hunk of russet fur still in his hand. His other hand had balled into a fist, curling around Jake's jaw once he felt the sharp sting of his teeth. Metal couldn't withstand his strength, and neither could bone – not even the bones of a werewolf. Jake's jaw had snapped, completely crushed. Looking back, he knew the fight was over.
The wolf shook violently before him. His jaw hung loosely around the gaping hole in his neck and chest. That had been an accident. The force of their separation had dragged Edward's hand like a knife through Jake's body, cleaving him open. No amount of healing could fix that. Blood poured out of him as he collapsed, unable to support himself. A pool slowly formed around Jacob's head, soaking his fur, filling his nose.
That was when the voices came. It was as if Jake's adrenaline had been holding them back. Now that he was done, they poured over the flood barrier – filling the air, drowning his mind with their furious cries. Edward lost control of himself, mind subject to the invading forces all around him. His hand released its iron grip on Jacob's throat, dropping the bloody mess to the ground. He didn't move. His eyes filled with the sorrow that engulfed him, reflecting the misery of Jacob's brothers as it echoed throughout his head.
It didn't matter. It was over. Nothing could be done now.
Jacob could feel his heart pounding in his chest, forcing his blood around his system, to no avail. It just gushed out of the cavernous wound in his throat. He knew what the scent was now, even though he couldn't smell it any longer. Tangy, and sickeningly pungent – he had smelt his own blood, his life as it poured out of his veins. He couldn't hear anything either, the sounds of his brothers had faded – leaving nothing but the deafening roar of absolute silence. Even his eyes had failed him, going still in his face – staring their blank, ebony gaze.
From outside himself, he watched – focusing in on his face, walking willingly into those wide, empty eyes. They were like a tunnel, a dark, cold tunnel to no where. Everything else faded around him as he stepped into that cave, that wide, black depth.
And then there was nothing.
Edward didn't move. For what could have been a millennium, he stood there, immobile. The voices were gone now. He couldn't hear anything. He was completely alone. Without a word, he turned around and walked away, ignoring the cooling carcass behind him. There was no point in burning it. Werewolves weren't like vampires; they couldn't put themselves back together again once they'd been ripped apart. Once they were gone – they were gone forever.
Jacob Black was gone. The only serious nuisance in his unbelievably long life, and he had finally destroyed him. There had been no other way, they both knew that. It was kill or be killed, and neither of them would have stopped until the other one was gone – completely gone – eradicated from the face of the earth. He knew Jacob wouldn't have regretted destroying him the way he just had. If anything the mutt would have been ecstatic, loping back into La Push with his ivory face between his teeth. His pack would have congratulated him, exulted with him. His family would have celebrated his victory. Jacob wouldn't have seen the misery he would have caused. He would have had no regrets.
As he walked away from the carnage, Edward thought back to the back, just before Jacob had slipped away, taking the voices with him. They had joined together in one beautiful song of mourning, crying out for their lost brother. He knew he would never forget that sound, even if he lived forever. He would never forget Jacob Black.
I am that one voice in the cold wind that whispers
And if you listen you'll hear me call across the sky
As long as I still can reach out and touch you
Then I will never die.