Twilight: Petrichor

Three days. Three days of nothing but rain and that nagging sensation that something was missing. The sweet-metallic scent that had seemed to define that morning encounter had vanished completely, leaving an emptiness I hadn't expected to feel. Not that I was counting the hours or anything.

I'd fallen into a routine - morning runs along different routes, though I wouldn't admit why, spending afternoons exploring the town, and trying to understand whatever was happening to my senses. Everything still felt sharper, more intense, but without that scent - without her presence - it all seemed somehow muted.

Edythe Cullen's absence hadn't gone unnoticed. I'd overheard enough whispered conversations at the diner to piece together that she'd suddenly left town, something about visiting relatives in Alaska. Her siblings were still around - I'd glimpsed them from a distance, their otherworldly grace marking them as different even from afar. But she remained conspicuously absent.

Mrs. Newton, ever the fountain of local knowledge, had mentioned it while I was picking up some supplies. "Haven't seen the Cullen girl around lately," she'd said, reorganizing hiking boots with unnecessary attention. "The others are still at school, but she's been absent these few days."

I was in Charlie's kitchen, nursing my third cup of actually decent coffee I'd bought my second day here, when my phone buzzed. Bella's name lit up the screen.

"Hey stranger," her voice came through, familiar yet somehow distant. "Just checking you haven't drowned in all that rain yet."

I smiled despite myself. "Still keeping my head above water. Barely. How's Phoenix?"

"Hot. Dry. Normal." She paused, and I could hear her shuffling something in the background. "Mom's going crazy with the packing. I think she's more stressed about this than I am."

"When do you get in?" I asked, though I knew the answer. The date was burned into my memory since Charlie first mentioned it.

"Three more days. Charlie's picking me up from the airport." Another pause. "It's weird, you know? Actually moving to Forks."

I glanced out the window, watching raindrops trace patterns on the glass. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

The conversation drifted into comfortable silence. Bella and I had always been like that - able to just exist in each other's quiet moments. Maybe it came from all those summers spent together as kids, reading books side by side while the rain drummed against Charlie's roof.

"Hey," she said suddenly, "you okay? You sound... different."

I considered telling her about Edythe, about that strange morning encounter that had shifted something fundamental in my world. But how could I explain it when I barely understood it myself?

"Just adjusting," I said instead. "Forks is... not quite what I remembered."

"Good different or bad different?"

The question hung in the air as I caught a flicker of movement in the treeline - too quick to track, gone before I could focus on it. That familiar tingle at the base of my skull returned, but different now. Almost like recognition.

"I'll let you know when I figure it out."

After hanging up with Bella, I found myself drawn to the window again. The forest seemed to pulse with hidden life, secrets whispering through the branches. My enhanced senses picked up everything - the soft patter of rain, distant bird calls, the rustle of leaves in the wind. But not that sweet-metallic scent. Not her.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of restlessness. I tried reading, working on my car, anything to keep my mind occupied. But my thoughts kept drifting back to that morning encounter, to golden eyes and impossible stillness. To questions I couldn't answer.

Night fell early, as it always did in Forks. I stood in my room, watching the forest fade into darkness. The security sensors remained quiet, their soft green lights blinking steadily in the growing gloom. Everything was normal, safe, secure.

So why couldn't I shake this feeling of anticipation?

A soft knock at my door broke through my thoughts. Charlie stood there, still in his uniform, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Got registration papers for school," he said, holding out a manila envelope. "You start Monday. Same day as Bella."

I took the envelope, feeling its weight in my hands. Such a normal thing - school registration. As if anything about this situation was normal.

"Thanks," I said, setting it on my desk. "I'll look through it later."

Charlie lingered in the doorway, shifting his weight slightly. "You know, if something's bothering you..." He trailed off, clearly unsure how to proceed.

"I'm fine," I assured him, perhaps too quickly. "Just getting used to the place."

He nodded, accepting the deflection. "Well, I'm heading down to La Push tomorrow to see Billy Black. Thought you might want to come along, see Jacob. You two used to play together during those summer visits, remember?"

La Push. The reservation. Something stirred in my memory - old stories, whispered warnings. But before I could grab hold of the thought, it slipped away.

"Yeah, maybe," I said noncommittally.

After Charlie left, I caught my reflection in the window - black hair that had started showing strange white streaks since I'd arrived in Forks, a change I couldn't explain. My dark eyes stared back at me, and for a moment I thought I saw something there - a subtle gleam in the darkness, though it was probably just my imagination. I could just make out the edge of the ragged scar peeking above my collar, a reminder of teeth and torn flesh that had set me on this path. I stood there, studying these small changes in myself as the evening deepened around me.

In the growing darkness, my enhanced senses picked up every detail beyond the glass - each raindrop, every subtle movement of branches in the wind. But it wasn't the darkness that kept drawing my attention. It was this strange emptiness I couldn't explain, like missing something I'd never really had in the first place. My thoughts drifted back to Edythe Cullen and that sweet-metallic scent that seemed to define her, wondering where she'd gone, what had made her leave so suddenly.

The rain continued its steady rhythm against the glass, and I settled in for another sleepless night.

...

The next morning started with a brooding sky, dark clouds threatening yet another downpour typical of Forks. The black finish of my Prelude gleamed under the gloomy light as Charlie and I made our way to La Push. I'd insisted on driving - some habits die hard, and letting someone else behind the wheel of my car wasn't one I was ready to break. Charlie didn't seem to mind, settling into the passenger seat with the easy comfort of someone used to being driven around.

The pop-up headlights cut through the morning mist as we wound our way along the coastal road. The forest pressed close on either side, darker and denser than the woods around Charlie's house. My enhanced senses picked up subtle differences in the air - salt from the distant ocean, the sharper scent of pine, and something else. Something older.

"Billy's been asking about you," Charlie said, breaking the comfortable silence. "Says he remembers when you and Jake would tear around his yard, pretending to be mechanics."

The memory surfaced hazily - summer afternoons spent with a gangly kid who talked too fast about engines and had motor oil permanently stained under his fingernails. "Jake still into cars?"

Charlie chuckled. "More than ever. He's got some project he's been working on in his garage. Probably talk your ear off about it."

As we crossed onto reservation land, that strange sensation at the base of my skull returned - different from what I'd felt around Edythe, but no less intense. Like crossing an invisible boundary, stepping into somewhere... else.

The coastal road curved sharply, revealing glimpses of steel-gray ocean between the trees. My hands flexed unconsciously on the steering wheel as that peculiar sensation grew stronger. Every turn, every stretch of asphalt felt familiar yet somehow foreign, like a photograph that's been subtly altered.

"Road's changed since you were last here," Charlie commented, misreading my tension. "They repaved it last spring after the storms."

"Yeah, figured as much," I said. "It has been seven years since I've been here."

I nodded, though that wasn't what had caught my attention. The air itself felt different here - heavier, charged with something I couldn't name. The enhanced senses that had been overwhelming me since arriving in Forks seemed to shift, adjusting to this new territory. Less acute in some ways, but more... aware.

A flash of movement in the treeline caught my eye - something large, maybe a deer - but when I glanced that direction, there was nothing but shadows between the pines. Still, that prickle at the base of my skull intensified, like being watched.

"Take the next left," Charlie directed, though I remembered the way. The narrow road that led to the Black residence hadn't changed much - still unpaved, still lined with those trees that seemed to lean inward, creating a natural tunnel of branches overhead.

The clouds pressed lower, making the morning feel more like twilight. In the distance, smoke rose from chimneys, and the first houses of the reservation began to appear through the trees.

We passed the first few houses of the reservation - weathered buildings that had seen decades of coastal storms. Some I vaugly recognized, others were new, but all shared that same feeling of permanence, of belonging to the land in a way the newer developments in Forks never quite managed.

The Blacks' house came into view, and I eased the Prelude to a stop in the gravel driveway. The small red house looked exactly as I remembered it, down to the wooden ramp that replaced the front steps. Before I could cut the engine, the front door opened, and Billy Black wheeled himself onto the porch.

The years hadn't changed him much - same weathered face, same long black hair now streaked with gray, same penetrating gaze. But something in the way he looked at me felt different. Assessing. Like he was seeing something new in a familiar face.

Behind him, another figure appeared in the doorway, and for a moment I didn't recognize Jake. The gangly kid from my memories had grown taller, though still lean, his black hair falling past his shoulders just like his father's. He wore a grease-stained t-shirt despite the cold morning air, and his face split into a wide, familiar grin when he saw us.

I killed the engine, the pop-up headlights lowering with a mechanical whir that seemed too loud in the quiet morning. Charlie was already out of the car, making his way to greet Billy with the ease of decades of friendship.

"Look what the tide dragged in," Billy called out, his deep voice carrying across the yard. His eyes never left me as I stepped out of the car, and that strange sensation intensified - like static electricity raising the hair on my arms.

"Hey Billy," I managed, trying to match his casual tone. "Long time."

"Man, is that really your Prelude?" Jake bounded down the porch steps, his attention completely caught by the car. "You actually restored it? That's sick!" He circled the black Honda with appreciation, examining the pristine paint job and custom wheels. "Original paint code too - that's Nighthawk Black Pearl, right? And you kept the pop-ups!" His eyes lit up with genuine enthusiasm. "Engine's stock?"

I couldn't help but grin, his enthusiasm breaking through the strange tension in the air. "Mostly. Did some work on the engine, but tried to keep it period-correct while adding some speed. Maybe we can take a look under the hood after catching up properly."

Billy's voice carried from the porch, still holding that undertone I couldn't quite place. "Jake, let them get inside first. That car isn't going anywhere."

Charlie laughed. "Some things never change. Remember when they were kids? Jake couldn't even reach the hood latch, but he'd spend hours talking about engines."

The memory flickered briefly - summer afternoons in this driveway. I followed Charlie up the worn path to the porch, aware of Billy's eyes tracking my movements. The wheelchair-bound man's expression was thoughtful, his dark eyes studying me with an intensity that felt more curious than cautious - like he was trying to piece together a puzzle he'd seen before but with different pieces.

The house itself hadn't changed much in seven years. Same weathered red paint, same wooden wind chimes that Sarah had hung years ago, their soft melody carrying over the constant whisper of wind through pine needles. The familiarity should have been comforting, but instead, it made me more aware of how much had changed. Of how much I had changed.

"Sarah left muffins," Billy mentioned as we reached the door, his voice casual even as his observant gaze lingered. "Fresh this morning. Though knowing Jake, there might not be many left."

"Hey!" Jake protested, following behind us. "I only had two." He paused, then added with a grin, "Maybe three."

The screen door creaked open, a sound that triggered another cascade of memories - summer days running in and out, screen door slamming despite constant warnings, the smell of Sarah's baking mixing with the pine-scented breeze. Simple memories, from before I understood what really lurked in the shadows of the world.

The interior was warm and smelled of fresh baking, exactly as I remembered it. Sarah's touch was everywhere - from the carefully arranged dried flowers on the windowsill to the colorful woven blankets draped over the worn furniture. The kitchen beyond was bright with morning light filtering through gauzy curtains, highlighting a plate of muffins on the counter.

Billy wheeled himself to the table with practiced ease, positioning himself where he could watch both the door and the windows - an old habit I recognized all too well. Charlie settled into his usual chair while Jake made a beeline for the muffins, earning an amused head shake from his father.

"So," Billy began, his tone conversational but his eyes keen. "How long are you planning to stay in Forks?"

The question hung in the air, weighted with unspoken meaning. I could feel Charlie tensing slightly beside me, though he tried to hide it.

"I'd stay as long as Bella does," I replied, keeping my tone casual. "Through the end of high school at least."

Billy's gaze remained steady, observant, as if trying to read between my words. The moment stretched, filled only by the soft sound of rain starting up again outside. Something in his expression shifted - like he was weighing his next words carefully.

"Interesting timing," he said slowly. "Both you and Bella choosing to come back now."

There was something in his tone, a subtle emphasis I couldn't quite decode. Charlie shifted in his chair, that slight tension returning to his shoulders. The air felt thick with unspoken questions.

"Man, you've got to check out what I'm working on in the garage!" Jake's voice cut through the mounting tension, his enthusiasm genuine as he polished off another muffin. "Got my hands on this old Volkswagen Rabbit - it's pretty much just a shell right now, but man, the potential..."

I caught Billy's slight frown at the interruption, as if Jake had cut off something important he'd been building toward. The question about timing wasn't entirely off-base - Bella moving to Forks for a fresh start, trying to escape the weight of responsibility she'd carried in Phoenix, looking after Renée. And here I was, seeking my own kind of fresh start, though my reasons weren't something I could share over morning muffins.

Something had drawn me here beyond just seeking refuge with Charlie. Something that now had a name: Edythe Cullen. That inexplicable pull I'd felt since arriving, like gravity itself had shifted its center. The way her sweet-metallic scent seemed to wrap around me, how my senses seemed to exist solely to make me more aware of her presence. Even now, I could feel that pull, like an invisible thread connecting me to wherever she'd disappeared to after our encounter. Though I couldn't explain it, something deeper than instinct told me this connection wasn't one-sided - I'd seen it in her golden eyes, in the way she'd fought against whatever hunger my presence had stirred in her.

"The garage is way better set up now," Jake continued, either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the undercurrent of tension. "Got a proper lift installed last summer. Dad says I spend more time out there than in the house."

"Because you do," Billy added dryly, but there was fondness in his voice. His eyes hadn't left me though, still carrying that measuring look.

"Go on," Charlie encouraged, clearly relieved for the shift in conversation. "Show him what you've been working on. Just don't keep him out there all day talking about carburetors."

The air in the kitchen felt heavy with unasked questions, like the moment before a storm breaks. Billy's penetrating gaze hadn't wavered, as if he could see past the casual facade to something deeper - something I couldn't even understand myself. With each passing moment, that invisible thread pulling me back toward Forks, toward Edythe, grew tauter, making every mile between us feel like a physical weight.

But those were questions for another time. For now, I had a role to play - just another teenager visiting old friends, talking about cars and catching up on lost years. Even if everything inside me knew nothing was that simple anymore.