Stephenie Meyer - Breaking Dawn

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

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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

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.

bella

CONTENTS

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

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?

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.