"Werewolf," I gasped.
Yes, that was the word that I was choking on. The whole world lurched, tilting the wrong way on its axis. What kind of a place was this? Could a world really exist where ancient legends went wandering around the borders of tiny, insignificant towns, facing down mythical monsters? Did this mean every impossible fairy tale was grounded somewhere in absolute truth? Was there anything sane or normal at all, or was everything just magic and ghost stories? A small, dry voice in the back of my mind asked me what the big deal was. Hadn’t I already accepted the existence of vampires long ago—and without all the hysterics that time? Exactly, I wanted to scream back at the voice. Wasn’t one myth enough for anyone, enough for a lifetime? Besides, there’d never been one moment that I wasn’t completely aware that Edward Cullen was above and beyond the ordinary. It wasn’t such a surprise to find out what he was—because he so obviously was something. But Jacob? Jacob, who was just Jacob, and nothing more than that? Jacob, my friend? Jacob, the only human I’d ever been able to relate to… And he wasn’t even human.