THE ROADS WERE SLICK AND DARK, a perfect backdrop for Bella's newfound fearlessness behind the wheel. Her reflexes were razor-sharp, and she navigated the treacherous terrain with ease. The only challenge was keeping our speed in check, lest we draw unwanted attention to ourselves. We were on a mission, after all, and we couldn't afford any distractions. We needed to solve the mystery at hand so we could get back to the business of learning. Learning to protect some, learning to kill others.

Bella had been honing her skills under the tutelage of Kate and Zafrina, and her progress was nothing short of remarkable. Kate had stepped back, content to let Zafrina take the reins, and Bella had risen to the challenge with aplomb.

As we made our way through the city, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. I found myself visiting Evelyn's grave more often than usual, even though I was no longer human. I had managed to find the perfect gift for Ayla's Christmas present, but my mind was preoccupied with the looming threat that was only two weeks away.

Seattle was a familiar place, but not a pleasant one. The Cullens' cars stood out like sore thumbs on the dilapidated streets, surrounded by crumbling buildings and faded paint. The area was a mishmash of old houses converted into apartments, with a few businesses scattered here and there. A dingy bar with blacked-out windows, a psychic's supply store with neon hands and tarot cards flickering in the darkness, a tattoo parlour, and a daycare with a broken window held together by duct tape. It was a far cry from the pristine world we were used to, but we had a job to do, and we were determined to see it through.

The rain poured down in sheets, drenching the few people who dared to brave the weather. Two figures shuffled through the downpour in opposite directions, their heads bowed against the deluge. A lone figure sat on the shallow porch of a boarded-up cut-rate law office, reading a wet newspaper and whistling a tune that was much too cheerful for the dismal setting. The sound echoed through the empty street, a stark contrast to the dreary atmosphere. The dilapidated building had no numbers, but the tattoo parlour beside it was just two numbers off, a beacon of colour in the grey surroundings.

Bella pulled up to the curb, her car idling for a moment as we surveyed the scene. We needed to get into that dump, but the whistler on the porch made me nervous. He could be a witness, and we didn't need any more attention. Bella could park on the next street over and come through the back, but there might be more people to avoid on that side.

"Hey, ladies," the whistler called out to us.

Bella rolled down the passenger window, pretending not to hear him. The man laid his paper aside, revealing his clothes that were surprisingly well-dressed under his ragged duster. His dark red shirt looked like silk, and his crinkly black hair was wild and tangled. His dark skin was smooth and perfect, a contradiction to his unkempt appearance. His white, straight teeth gleamed in the rain.

"Maybe you shouldn't park that car there, lady," he warned. "It might not be here when you get back."

"Thanks for the heads up," Bella replied.

She turned off the engine, and we stepped out of the car. Perhaps the whistling man could give us the answers we needed faster than breaking in. Bella opened the big grey umbrella, shielding us from the rain. The man squinted through the downpour at our faces, then his eyes widened. He swallowed, and I could hear his heart racing as we approached.

"We're looking for someone," Bella began.

"I'm someone," he replied with a smile. "What can I do for you, beautiful?"

"You're J. Jenks?" I asked.

"Oh," he said, and his expression changed from anticipation to understanding. He got to his feet and examined us with narrowed eyes. "Why're you two ladies looking for J?"

"That's our business. Are you J?" Bella asked.

"No."

We all faced each other for a long moment while his sharp eyes ran up and down. His gaze finally made it to her face. "You don't look like the usual customer."

"I'm probably not the usual," she admitted. "But I do need to see him as soon as possible."

"I'm not sure what to do," he admitted.

"Why don't you tell us your name?" I asked him.

He grinned. "Max."

"Well, Max, why don't you tell me what you do for the usual?"

His grin became a frown. "Well, J's usual clients don't look a thing like you. Your kind doesn't bother with the downtown office. You just go straight up to his fancy office in the skyscraper."

Bella repeated the other address, making the list of numbers a question.

"Yeah, that's the place," he said, suspicious again. "How come you didn't go there?"

"This was the address I was given—by a very dependable source."

"And why is she here?" Max questioned my presence.

"A friend requested her to be here," Bella replied.

"If you were up to any good, you wouldn't be here."

She pursed my lips and I gritted my teeth.

"Maybe I'm not up to any good," she spoke.

Max's face turned apologetic. "Look, lady—"

"Bella."

"Right. Bella. See, I need this job. J pays me pretty well to mostly just hang out here all day. I want to help you, I do, but—and of course, I'm speaking hypothetically, right? Or off the record, or whatever works for you—but if I pass somebody through that could get him in trouble, I'm out of work. Do you see my problem?"

"You've never seen anyone like me here before? Well, sort of like me. My sister is a lot shorter than me, and she has dark spiky black hair."

"J knows your sister?"

"I think so."

Max pondered this for a moment. I smiled at him, and his breathing stuttered. "Tell you what I'll do. I'll give J a call and describe you to him. Let him make the decision."

What did J. Jenks know? Would my description mean something to him? That was a troubling thought.

"My last name is Cullen," she told Max, wondering if that was too much information, and looked at me. "And her's Khotler."

What was Alice doing?

"Cullen and Khotler."

Max dialled, easily picking out the number. "Hey J, it's Max. I know I'm never supposed to call you at this number except in an emergency. . . ."

There was a brief pause from him.

"Well, not exactly. It's those girls who want to see you. . . ."

Another silence.

"I didn't follow normal procedure 'cause she doesn't look like any kind of normal— No— You can't be sure about that. Does she look like one of Kubarev's—? No—let me talk, okay? She says you know her sister or something."

Then, Max turned his gaze on us.

"They look like . . ." His eyes ran from my face to my shoes appreciatively. "Well, they look like freaking supermodels, that's what she looks like." Bella smiled and he winked at us; I gave him a cringed look and then went on. "Rocking body, pale as a sheet, one has dark brown hair almost to her waist and the other has black hair. Both need a good night's sleep—any of this sounding familiar?"

Supermodels? He's joking, right?

"Yeah, so I'm a sucker for the pretty ones, what's wrong with that? I'm sorry I bothered you, man. Just forget it."

"Name," I whispered.

"Oh right. Wait," Max said. "They said Bella Cullen and Violet Khotler. That help?"

There was a beat of dead silence, and then the voice on the other end was abruptly screaming, using a lot of words you didn't often hear outside of truck stops. Max's whole expression changed; all the joking vanished and his lips went pale.

"Because you didn't ask!" Max yelled back, panicked. "I said that, didn't I?"

Beautiful and pale? Did this man know about vampires? Was he one of us? What had Alice gotten us into?

Max waited for a minute through another volley of shouted insults and instructions and then glanced at us with almost frightened eyes. "But you only meet downtown clients on Thursdays—okay, okay! On it." He slid his phone shut.

"He wants to see us?" Bella asked brightly.

Max glowered. "You could have told me you were a priority client."

"We didn't know we were," I said.

"I thought you both might be cops," he admitted. "I mean, you don't look like a cop. But you act kind of weird, beautiful."

Bella shrugged and I smiled.

"Drug cartel?" he guessed.

"Who, us?" Bella asked.

"Yeah. Or your boyfriends or whatever."

"Nope, sorry. I'm not a fan of drugs, and neither is my husband. Just say no and all that."

Max cursed under his breath. "Married. Can't catch a break."

I smiled.

"Mafia?"

"Nope."

"Diamond smuggling?"

"Please! Is that the kind of people you usually deal with, Max?" I inquired. "Maybe you need a new job."

"You've got to be involved in something big. And bad," he mused.

"It's not really like that," Bella assured him.

"That's what they all say. But who else needs papers? Or can afford to pay J's prices for them, I should say. None of my business, anyway," he said and then muttered the word married again.

"You know, I'm single," I said to him, his eyes glimmered with hope, and a smile grew on his face. "I'll keep you in mind."

He gave us an entirely new address with basic directions and then watched us drive away with suspicious, regretful and hopeful eyes.