He glanced over the sheet-covered furnishings throughout the house. It seemed as barren and lifeless as he. He’d briefly visited a few of the other Cullen properties, and a couple of his own, but he hadn’t stayed long in any of them. He’d made his way to his property in eastern Texas and checked to see if the old Chevy pickup in the precariously leaning barn would start.
Hands resting on the faded steering wheel, feeling the rhythmic vibrations of the engine, he pulled out of the barn and away.
He hadn’t known what drove him to return to the house in Forks after five years of aimless wandering, but after not feeling anything for so long, when the urge to move on again struck he had followed.
He soon found himself in Carlisle’s office and flipped through the address book lying on a corner of the desk. Finding the number of the Chief of the Quileutes written in Carlisle’s precise hand, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed.
It was only common courtesy he inform them a Cullen had returned. He didn’t want to inadvertently cause problems. Though he no longer thought of himself as connected to them, he had no intentions of undoing all the hard work put into the treaty made between the unconventional vampires and shape-shifting protectors. It had been one of the first calls Carlisle had made when they’d all moved to Forks before.
After several rings, Jasper was about to hang up when someone answered, blurting out a breathless, “Hello?”
“Hello, I’d like to speak with Chief William Black if I might?”
“This is his son Jacob. He passed away a few years ago. Who is this? Maybe I can help you.”
Jasper was uncertain of the hierarchy of the tribe, or how the leadership was passed from one generation to the next. He did know his own coven leader had spoken to Billy Black. Back then, Carlisle had thought the ability for any of their tribesmen to turn into wolves had died out, but it was the proper thing to do to call.
Did they even think their legends were anything more than fanciful myths any longer?
“My name is Jasper … Hale, and I’m calling—”
“Hale?” the rough voice interrupted. “You’re one of the Cullens that used to live here?”
“Yes. I believe it’s my responsibility to inform the Chief of the Quileutes—”
“That would be me. Meet me where Three Rivers Road comes into the one-ten.”