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1、Twilight Book 3 Stephenie Meyer To my husband, Pancho, for your patience, love, friendship, humor, and willingness to eat out. And also to my children, Gabe, Seth, and Eli, for letting me experience the kind of love that people freely die for. Fire and Ice Some say the world will end in fire, Some s
2、ay in ice. From what Ive tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice. Robert Frost PREFACE ALL OUR ATTEMPTS AT SUBTERFUGE HAD BEEN IN VAIN. With ice in my heart, I watc
3、hed him prepare to defend me. His intense concentration betrayed no hint of doubt, though he was outnumbered. I knew that we could expect no help at this moment, his family was fighting for their lives just as surely as he was for ours. Would I ever learn the outcome of that other fight? Find out wh
4、o the winners and the losers were? Would I live long enough for that? The odds of that didnt look so great. Black eyes, wild with their fierce craving for my death, watched for the moment when my protectors attention would be diverted. The moment when I would surely die. Somewhere, far, far away in
5、the cold forest, a wolf howled. 1. ULTIMATUM Bella, I dont know why youre making Charlie carry notes to Billy like were in second grade if I wanted to talk to you I would answer the You made the choice here, okay? You cant have it both ways when What part of mortal enemies is too complicated for you
6、 to Look, I know Im being a jerk, but theres just no way around We cant be friends when youre spending all your time with a bunch of It just makes it worse when I think about you too much, so dont write anymore Yeah, I miss you, too. A lot. Doesnt change anything. Sorry. Jacob I ran my fingers acros
7、s the page, feeling the dents where he had pressed the pen to the paper so hard that it had nearly broken through. I could picture him writing this scrawling the angry letters in his rough handwriting, slashing through line after line when the words came out wrong, maybe even snapping the pen in his
8、 too-big hand; that would explain the ink splatters. I could imagine the frustration pulling his black eyebrows together and crumpling his forehead. If Id been there, I might have laughed. Dont give yourself a brain hemorrhage, Jacob, I would have told him. Just spit it out. Laughing was the last th
9、ing I felt like doing now as I reread the words Id already memorized. His answer to my pleading note passed from Charlie to Billy to him, just like second grade, as hed pointed out was no surprise. Id known the essence of what it would say before Id opened it. What was surprising was how much each c
10、rossed-out line wounded me as if the points of the letters had cutting edges. More than that, behind each angry beginning lurked a vast pool of hurt; Jacobs pain cut me deeper than my own. While I was pondering this, I caught the unmistakable scent of a smoking burner rising from the kitchen. In ano
11、ther house, the fact that someone besides myself was cooking might not be a cause for panicking. I shoved the wrinkled paper into my back pocket and ran, making it downstairs in the nick of time. The jar of spaghetti sauce Charlied stuck in the microwave was only on its first revolution when I yanke
12、d the door open and pulled it out. “What did I do wrong?” Charlie demanded. “Youre supposed to take the lid off first, Dad. Metals bad for microwaves.” I swiftly removed the lid as I spoke, poured half the sauce into a bowl, and then put the bowl inside the microwave and the jar back in the fridge;
13、I fixed the time and pressed start. Charlie watched my adjustments with pursed lips. “Did I get the noodles right?” I looked in the pan on the stove the source of the smell that had alerted me. “Stirring helps,” I said mildly. I found a spoon and tried to de-clump the mushy hunk that was scalded to
14、the bottom. Charlie sighed. “So whats all this about?” I asked him. He folded his arms across his chest and glared out the back windows into the sheeting rain. “Dont know what youre talking about,” he grumbled. I was mystified. Charlie cooking? And what was with the surly attitude? Edward wasnt here yet; usually my dad reserved this kind of behavior for my boyfriends benefit, doing his best to illustrate the theme of “unwelcome” with every word and posture. Charlies efforts were unnecessary Edward knew exa
