暮色-第24部分

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and　terrible　qualities　of　both。　—　Rev。　Montague　Summers　



If　there　is　in　this　world　a　wellattested　account；　it　is　that　of　the　
vampires。　Nothing　is　lacking：　official　reports；　affidavits　of　wellknown　
people；　of　surgeons；　of　priests；　of　magistrates；　the　judicial　proof　is　
most　plete。　And　with　all　that；　who　is　there　who　believes　in　vampires？　
—　Rousseau　



The　rest　of　the　site　was　an　alphabetized　listing　of　all　the　different　
myths　of　vampires　held　throughout　the　world。　The　first　I　clicked　on；　the　
Danag；　was　a　Filipino　vampire　supposedly　responsible　for　planting　taro　on　
the　islands　long　ago。　The　myth　continued　that　the　Danag　worked　with　
humans　for　many　years；　but　the　partnership　ended　one　day　when　a　woman　cut　
her　finger　and　a　Danag　sucked　her　wound；　enjoying　the　taste　so　much　that　
it　drained　her　body　pletely　of　blood。　

I　read　carefully　through　the　descriptions；　looking　for　anything　that　
sounded　familiar；　let　alone　plausible。　It　seemed　that　most　vampire　myths　
centered　around　beautiful　women　as　demons　and　children　as　victims；　they　
also　seemed　like　constructs　created　to　explain　away　the　high　mortality　
rates　for　young　children；　and　to　give　men　an　excuse　for　infidelity。　Many　
of　the　stories　involved　bodiless　spirits　and　warnings　against　improper　
burials。　There　wasn't　much　that　sounded　like　the　movies　I'd　seen；　and　
only　a　very　few；　like　the　Hebrew　Estrie　and　the　Polish　Upier；　who　were　
even　preoccupied　with　drinking　blood。　

Only　three　entries　really　caught　my　attention：　the　Romanian　Varacolaci；　a　
powerful　undead　being　who　could　appear　as　a　beautiful；　paleskinned　
human；　the　Slovak　Nelapsi；　a　creature　so　strong　and　fast　it　could　
massacre　an　entire　village　in　the　single　hour　after　midnight；　and　one　
other；　the　Stregoni　benefici。　

About　this　last　there　was　only　one　brief　sentence。　

Stregoni　benefici：　An　Italian　vampire；　said　to　be　on　the　side　of　
goodness；　and　a　mortal　enemy　of　all　evil　vampires。　

It　was　a　relief；　that　one　small　entry；　the　one　myth　among　hundreds　that　
claimed　the　existence　of　good　vampires。　

Overall；　though；　there　was　little　that　coincided　with　Jacob's　stories　or　
my　own　observations。　I'd　made　a　little　catalogue　in　my　mind　as　I'd　read　
and　carefully　pared　it　with　each　myth。　Speed；　strength；　beauty；　pale　
skin；　eyes　that　shift　color；　and　then　Jacob's　criteria：　blood　drinkers；　
enemies　of　the　werewolf；　coldskinned；　and　immortal。　There　were　very　few　
myths　that　matched　even　one　factor。　

And　then　another　problem；　one　that　I'd　remembered　from　the　small　number　
of　scary　movies　that　I'd　seen　and　was　backed　up　by　today's　reading　—　
vampires　couldn't　e　out　in　the　daytime；　the　sun　would　burn　them　to　a　
cinder。　They　slept　in　coffins　all　day　and　came　out　only　at　night。　

Aggravated；　I　snapped　off　the　puter's　main　power　switch；　not　waiting　
to　shut　things　down　properly。　Through　my　irritation；　I　felt　overwhelming　
embarrassment。　It　was　all　so　stupid。　I　was　sitting　in　my　room；　
researching　vampires。　What　was　wrong　with　me？　I　decided　that　most　of　the　
blame　belonged　on　the　doorstep　of　the　town　of　Forks　—　and　the　entire　
sodden　Olympic　Peninsula；　for　that　matter。　

I　had　to　get　out　of　the　house；　but　there　was　nowhere　I　wanted　to　go　that　
didn't　involve　a　threeday　drive。　I　pulled　on　my　boots　anyway；　unclear　
where　I　was　headed；　and　went　downstairs。　I　shrugged　into　my　raincoat　
without　checking　the　weather　and　stomped　out　the　door。　

It　was　overcast；　but　not　raining　yet。　I　ignored　my　truck　and　started　east　
on　foot；　angling　across　Charlie's　yard　toward　the　everencroaching　
forest。　It　didn't　take　long　till　I　was　deep　enough　for　the　house　and　the　
road　to　be　invisible；　for　the　only　sound　to　be　the　squish　of　the　damp　
earth　under　my　feet　and　the　sudden　cries　of　the　jays。　

There　was　a　thin　ribbon　of　a　trail　that　led　through　the　forest　here；　or　I　
wouldn't　risk　wandering　on　my　own　like　this。　My　sense　of　direction　was　
hopeless；　I　could　get　lost　in　much　less　helpful　surroundings。　The　trail　
wound　deeper　and　deeper　into　the　forest；　mostly　east　as　far　as　I　could　
tell。　It　snaked　around　the　Sitka　spruces　and　the　hemlocks；　the　yews　and　
the　maples。　I　only　vaguely　knew　the　names　of　the　trees　around　me；　and　all　
I　knew　was　due　to　Charlie　pointing　them　out　to　me　from　the　cruiser　window　
in　earlier　days。　There　were　many　I　didn't　know；　and　others　I　couldn't　be　
sure　about　because　they　were　so　covered　in　green　parasites。　

I　followed　the　trail　as　long　as　my　anger　at　myself　pushed　me　forward。　As　
that　started　to　ebb；　I　slowed。　A　few　drops　of　moisture　trickled　down　from　
the　canopy　above　me；　but　I　couldn't　be　certain　if　it　was　beginning　to　
rain　or　if　it　was　simply　pools　left　over　from　yesterday；　held　high　in　the　
leaves　above　me；　slowly　dripping　their　way　back　to　the　earth。　A　recently　
fallen　tree　—　I　knew　it　was　recent　because　it　wasn't　entirely　carpeted　in　
moss　—　rested　against　the　trunk　of　one　of　her　sisters；　creating　a　
sheltered　little　bench　just　a　few　safe　feet　off　the　trail。　I　stepped　over　
the　ferns　and　sat　carefully；　making　sure　my　jacket　was　between　the　damp　
seat　and　my　clothes　wherever　they　touched；　and　leaned　my　hooded　head　back　
against　the　living　tree。　

This　was　the　wrong　place　to　have　e。　I　should　have　known；　but　where　
else　was　there　to　go？　The　forest　was　deep　green　and　far　too　much　like　the　
scene　in　last　night's　dream　to　allow　for　peace　of　mind。　Now　that　there　
was　no　longer　the　sound　of　my　soggy　footsteps；　the　silence　was　piercing。　
The　birds　were　quiet；　too；　the　drops　increasing　in　frequency；　so　it　must　
be　raining　above。　The　ferns　stood　higher　than　my　head；　now　that　I　was　
seated；　and　I　knew　someone　could　walk　by　on　the　path；　three　feet　away；　
and　not　see　me。　

Here　in　the　trees　it　was　much　easier　to　believe　the　absurdities　that　
embarrassed　me　indoors。　Nothing　had　changed　in　this　forest　for　thousands　
of　years；　and　all　the　myths　and　legends　of　a　hundred　different　lands　
seemed　much　more　likely　in　this　green　haze　than　they　had　in　my　clearcut　
bedroom。　

I　forced　myself　to　focus　on　the　two　most　vital　questions　I　had　to　answer；　
but　I　did　so　unwillingly。　

First；　I　had　to　decide　if　it　was　possible　that　what　Jacob　had　said　about　
the　Cullens　could　be　true。　

Immediately　my　mind　responded　with　a　resounding　negative。　It　was　silly　
and　morbid　to　entertain　such　ridiculous　notions。　But　what；　then？　I　asked　
myself。　There　was　no　rational　explanation　for　how　I　was　alive　at　this　
moment。　I　listed　again　in　my　head　the　things　I'd　observed　myself：　the　
impossible　speed　and　strength；　the　eye　color　shifting　from　black　to　gold　

and　back　again；　the　inhuman　beauty；　the　pale；　frigid　skin。　And　more　—　
small　things　that　registered　slowly　—　how　they　never　seemed　to　eat；　the　
disturbing　grace　with　which　they　moved。　And　the　way　be　

sometimes　spoke；　with　unfamiliar　cadences　and　phrases　that　better　fit　the　
style　of　a　turnofthecentury　novel　than　that　of　a　twentyfirstcentury　
classroom。　He　had　skipped　class　the　day　we'd　done　blood　typing。　He　hadn't　
said　no　to　the　beach　trip　till　he　heard　where　we　were　going。　He　seemed　to　
know　what　everyone　around　him　was　thinking…　except　me。　He　had　told　me　he　
was　the　villain；　dangerous…　

Could　the　Cullens　be　vampires？　

Well；　they　were　something。　Something　outside　the　possibility　of　rational　
justification　was　taking　place　in　front　of　my　incredulous　eyes。　Whether　
it　be　Jacob's　cold　ones　or　my　own　superhero　theory；　Edward　Cullen　was　
not…　human。　He　was　something　more。　

So　then　—　maybe。　That　would　have　to　be　my　answer　for　now。　

And　then　the　most　important　question　of　all。　What　was　I　going　to　do　if　it　
was　true？　

If　Edward　was　a　vampire　—　I　could　hardly　make　myself　think　the　words　—　
then　what　should　I　do？　Involving　someone　else　was　definitely　out。　I　
couldn't　even　believe　myself；　anyone　I　told　would　have　me　mitted。　

Only　two　options　seemed　practical。　The　first　was　to　take　his　advice：　to　
be　smart；　to　avoid　him　as　much　as　possible。　To　cancel　our　plans；　to　go　
back　to　ignoring　him　as　far　as　I　was　able。　To　pretend　there　was　an　
imperably　thick　glass　wall　between　us　in　the　one　class　where　we　were　
forced　together。　To　tell　him　to　leave　me　al