Breaking Dawn Read online

  Breaking Dawn

  Stephenie Meyer

  * * *

  Copyright 2008 by Stephenie Meyer

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Little, Brown and Company

  Hachette Book Group USA

  237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017

  Visit our Web site at www.lb-teens.com

  First eBook Edition: August 2008

  Little, Brown and Company is a division of Hachette Book Group USA, Inc.

  The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group USA, Inc.

  Epigraph for Book Three from Empire by Orson Scott Card. A Tor Book. Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC. Copyright 2006 by Orson Scott Card. Reprinted with permission of the author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN: 978-0-316-03283-4

  Contents

  BOOK ONE: BELLA

  Preface

  1. Engaged

  2. Long Night

  3. Big Day

  4. Gesture

  5. Isle Esme

  6. Distractions

  7. Unexpected

  BOOK TWO: JACOB

  Preface

  8. Waiting For The Damn Fight To Start Already

  9. Sure As Hell Didnt See That One Coming

  10. Why Didnt I Just Walk Away? Oh Right, Because Im An Idiot.

  11. The Two Things At The Very Top Of My Things-I-Never-Want-To-Do List

  12. Some People Just Dont Grasp The Concept Of Unwelcome

  13. Good Thing Ive Got A Strong Stomach

  14. You Know Things Are Bad When You Feel Guilty For Being Rude To Vampires

  15. Tick Tock Tick Tock Tick Tock

  16. Too-Much-Information Alert

  17. What Do I Look Like? The Wizard Of Oz? You Need A Brain? You Need A Heart? Go Ahead. Take Mine. Take Everything I Have.

  18. There Are No Words For This.

  BOOK THREE: BELLA

  Preface

  19. Burning

  20. New

  21. First Hunt

  22. Promised

  23. Memories

  24. Surprise

  25. Favor

  26. Shiny

  27. Travel Plans

  28. The Future

  29. Defection

  30. Irresistible

  31. Talented

  32. Company

  33. Forgery

  34. Declared

  35. Deadline

  36. Bloodlust

  37. Contrivances

  38. Power

  39. The Happily Ever After

  Vampire Index

  Acknowledgments

  This book is dedicated to my ninja/agent, Jodi Reamer.

  Thank you for keeping me off the ledge.

  And thanks also to my favorite band,

  the very aptly named Muse,

  for providing a sagas worth of inspiration.

  BOOK ONE

  bella

  CONTENTS

  PREFACE

  1. ENGAGED

  2. LONG NIGHT

  3. BIG DAY

  4. GESTURE

  5. ISLE ESME

  6. DISTRACTION

  7. UNEXPECTED

  Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age

  The child is grown, and puts away childish things.

  Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.

  Edna St. Vincent Millay

  PREFACE

  Id had more than my fair share of near-death experiences; it wasnt something you ever really got used to.

  It seemed oddly inevitable, though, facing death again. Like I really was marked for disaster. Id escaped time and time again, but it kept coming back for me.

  Still, this time was so different from the others.

  You could run from someone you feared, you could try to fight someone you hated. All my reactions were geared toward those kinds of killersthe monsters, the enemies.

  When you loved the one who was killing you, it left you no options. How could you run, how could you fight, when doing so would hurt that beloved one? If your life was all you had to give your beloved, how could you not give it?

  If it was someone you truly loved?

  1. ENGAGED

  No one is staring at you, I promised myself. No one is staring at you. No one is staring at you.

  But, because I couldnt lie convincingly even to myself, I had to check.

  As I sat waiting for one of the three traffic lights in town to turn green, I peeked to the rightin her minivan, Mrs. Weber had turned her whole torso in my direction. Her eyes bored into mine, and I flinched back, wondering why she didnt drop her gaze or look ashamed. It was still considered rude to stare at people, wasnt it? Didnt that apply to me anymore?

  Then I remembered that these windows were so darkly tinted that she probably had no idea if it was even me in here, let alone that Id caught her looking. I tried to take some comfort in the fact that she wasnt really staring at me, just the car.

  My car. Sigh.

  I glanced to the left and groaned. Two pedestrians were frozen on the sidewalk, missing their chance to cross as they stared. Behind them, Mr. Marshall was gawking through the plate-glass window of his little souvenir shop. At least he didnt have his nose pressed up against the glass. Yet.

  The light turned green and, in my hurry to escape, I stomped on the gas pedal without thinkingthe normal way I would have punched it to get my ancient Chevy truck moving.

  Engine snarling like a hunting panther, the car jolted forward so fast that my body slammed into the black leather seat and my stomach flattened against my spine.

  Arg! I gasped as I fumbled for the brake. Keeping my head, I merely tapped the pedal. The car lurched to an absolute standstill anyway.

  I couldnt bear to look around at the reaction. If there had been any doubt as to who was driving this car before, it was gone now. With the toe of my shoe, I gently nudged the gas pedal down one half millimeter, and the car shot forward again.

  I managed to reach my goal, the gas station. If I hadnt been running on vapors, I wouldnt have come into town at all. I was going without a lot of things these days, like Pop-Tarts and shoelaces, to avoid spending time in public.

  Moving as if I were in a race, I got the hatch open, the cap off, the card scanned, and the nozzle in the tank within seconds. Of course, there was nothing I could do to make the numbers on the gauge pick up the pace. They ticked by sluggishly, almost as if they were doing it just to annoy me.

  It wasnt bright outa typical drizzly day in Forks, Washingtonbut I still felt like a spotlight was trained on me, drawing attention to the delicate ring on my left hand. At times like this, sensing the eyes on my back, it felt as if the ring were pulsing like a neon sign: Look at me, look at me.

  It was stupid to be so self-conscious, and I knew that. Besides my dad and mom, did it really matter what people were saying about my engagement? About my new car? About my mysterious acceptance into an Ivy League college? About the shiny black credit card that felt red-hot in my back pocket right now?

  Yeah, who cares what they think, I muttered under my breath.

  Um, miss? a mans voice called.

  I turned, and then wished I hadnt.

  Two men stood beside a fancy SUV with brand-new kayaks tied to the top. Neither of them was looking at me; they both were staring at the car.

  Personally, I didnt get it. But then, I was
just proud I could distinguish between the symbols for Toyota, Ford, and Chevy. This car was glossy black, sleek, and pretty, but it was still just a car to me.

  Im sorry to bother you, but could you tell me what kind of car youre driving? the tall one asked.

  Um, a Mercedes, right?

  Yes, the man said politely while his shorter friend rolled his eyes at my answer. I know. But I was wondering, is that are you driving a Mercedes Guardian? The man said the name with reverence. I had a feeling this guy would get along well with Edward Cullen, my my fianc (there really was no getting around that truth with the wedding just days away). They arent supposed to be available in Europe yet, the man went on, let alone here.

  While his eyes traced the contours of my carit didnt look much different from any other Mercedes sedan to me, but what did I know?I briefly contemplated my issues with words like fianc, wedding, husband, etc.

  I just couldnt put it together in my head.

  On the one hand, I had been raised to cringe at the very thought of poofy white dresses and bouquets. But more than that, I just couldnt reconcile a staid, respectable, dull concept like husband with my concept of Edward. It was like casting an archangel as an accountant; I couldnt visualize him in any commonplace role.

  Like always, as soon as I started thinking about Edward I was caught up in a dizzy spin of fantasies. The stranger had to clear his throat to get my attention; he was still waiting for an answer about the cars make and model.

  I dont know, I told him honestly.

  Do you mind if I take a picture with it?

  It took me a second to process that. Really? You want to take a picture with the car?

  Surenobody is going to believe me if I dont get proof.

  Um. Okay. Fine.

  I swiftly put away the nozzle and crept into the front seat to hide while the enthusiast dug a huge professional-looking camera out of his backpack. He and his friend took turns posing by the hood, and then they went to take pictures at the back end.

  I miss my truck, I whimpered to myself.

  Very, very convenienttoo convenientthat my truck would wheeze its last wheeze just weeks after Edward and I had agreed to our lopsided compromise, one detail of which was that he be allowed to replace my truck when it passed on. Edward swore it was only to be expected; my truck had lived a long, full life and then expired of natural causes. According to him. And, of course, I had no way to verify his story or to try to raise my truck from the dead on my own. My favorite mechanic

  I stopped that thought cold, refusing to let it come to a conclusion. Instead, I listened to the mens voices outside, muted by the car walls.

  . . . went at it with a flamethrower in the online video. Didnt even pucker the paint.

  Of course not. You could roll a tank over this baby. Not much of a market for one over here. Designed for Middle East diplomats, arms dealers, and drug lords mostly.

  Think shes something? the short one asked in a softer voice. I ducked my head, cheeks flaming.

  Huh, the tall one said. Maybe. Cant imagine what youd need missile-proof glass and four thousand pounds of body armor for around here. Must be headed somewhere more hazardous.

  Body armor. Four thousand pounds of body armor. And missile-proof glass? Nice. What had happened to good old-fashioned bulletproof?

  Well, at least this made some senseif you had a twisted sense of humor.

  It wasnt like I hadnt expected Edward to take advantage of our deal, to weight it on his side so that he could give so much more than he would receive. Id agreed that he could replace my truck when it needed replacing, not expecting that moment to come quite so soon, of course. When Id been forced to admit that the truck had become no more than a still-life tribute to classic Chevys on my curb, I knew his idea of a replacement was probably going to embarrass me. Make me the focus of stares and whispers. Id been right about that part. But even in my darkest imaginings I had not foreseen that he would get me two cars.

  The before car and the after car, hed explained when Id flipped out.

  This was just the before car. Hed told me it was a loaner and promised that he was returning it after the wedding. It all had made absolutely no sense to me. Until now.

  Ha ha. Because I was so fragilely human, so accident-prone, so much a victim to my own dangerous bad luck, apparently I needed a tank-resistant car to keep me safe. Hilarious. I was sure he and his brothers had enjoyed the joke quite a bit behind my back.

  Or maybe, just maybe, a small voice whispered in my head, its not a joke, silly. Maybe hes really that worried about you. This wouldnt be the first time hes gone a little overboard trying to protect you.

  I sighed.

  I hadnt seen the after car yet. It was hidden under a sheet in the deepest corner of the Cullens garage. I knew most people would have peeked by now, but I really didnt want to know.

  Probably no body armor on that carbecause I wouldnt need it after the honeymoon. Virtual indestructibility was just one of the many perks I was looking forward to. The best parts about being a Cullen were not expensive cars and impressive credit cards.

  Hey, the tall man called, cupping his hands to the glass in an effort to peer in. Were done now. Thanks a lot!

  Youre welcome, I called back, and then tensed as I started the engine and eased the pedalever so gentlydown. . . .

  No matter how many times I drove down the familiar road home, I still couldnt make the rain-faded flyers fade into the background. Each one of them, stapled to telephone poles and taped to street signs, was like a fresh slap in the face. A well-deserved slap in the face. My mind was sucked back into the thought Id interrupted so immediately before. I couldnt avoid it on this road. Not with pictures of my favorite mechanic flashing past me at regular intervals.

  My best friend. My Jacob.

  The HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY? posters were not Jacobs fathers idea. It had been my father, Charlie, whod printed up the flyers and spread them all over town. And not just Forks, but Port Angeles and Sequim and Hoquiam and Aberdeen and every other town in the Olympic Peninsula. Hed made sure that all the police stations in the state of Washington had the same flyer hanging on the wall, too. His own station had a whole corkboard dedicated to finding Jacob. A corkboard that was mostly empty, much to his disappointment and frustration.

  My dad was disappointed with more than the lack of response. He was most disappointed with Billy, Jacobs fatherand Charlies closest friend.

  For Billys not being more involved with the search for his sixteen-year-old runaway. For Billys refusing to put up the flyers in La Push, the reservation on the coast that was Jacobs home. For his seeming resigned to Jacobs disappearance, as if there was nothing he could do. For his saying, Jacobs grown up now. Hell come home if he wants to.

  And he was frustrated with me, for taking Billys side.

  I wouldnt put up posters, either. Because both Billy and I knew where Jacob was, roughly speaking, and we also knew that no one had seen this boy.

  The flyers put the usual big, fat lump in my throat, the usual stinging tears in my eyes, and I was glad Edward was out hunting this Saturday. If Edward saw my reaction, it would only make him feel terrible, too.

  Of course, there were drawbacks to it being Saturday. As I turned slowly and carefully onto my street, I could see my dads police cruiser in the driveway of our home. Hed skipped fishing again today. Still sulking about the wedding.

  So I wouldnt be able to use the phone inside. But I had to call. . . .

  I parked on the curb behind the Chevy sculpture and pulled the cell phone Edward had given me for emergencies out of the glove compartment. I dialed, keeping my finger on the end button as the phone rang. Just in case.

  Hello? Seth Clearwater answered, and I sighed in relief. I was way too chicken to speak to his older sister, Leah. The phrase bite my head off was not entirely a figure of speech when it came to Leah.

  Hey, Seth, its Bella.

  Oh, hiya, Bella! How are you?

  Choked up. Desp
erate for reassurance. Fine.

  Calling for an update?

  Youre psychic.

  Not hardly. Im no Aliceyoure just predictable, he joked. Among the Quileute pack down at La Push, only Seth was comfortable even mentioning the Cullens by name, let alone joking about things like my nearly omniscient sister-in-law-to-be.

  I know I am. I hesitated for a minute. How is he?

  Seth sighed. Same as ever. He wont talk, though we know he hears us. Hes trying not to think human, you know. Just going with his instincts.

  Do you know where he is now?