NEW STORY! YAY! Second one this week, and it's only Tuesday. Wow, I rock. And this is a pretty good length for a first chapter. Enjoy!
The trees whipped by me faster than you could imagine; every shade of green and brown was blurring around me as I ran through the woods. It was cold out, and the chilled wind burned my eyes, the cold air seeping into my bones and threatening to freeze me solid. It was in the negatives today—negative twelve, I think—and my feet were numb from the snow, raw from the ice and rocks, but I couldn't stop running.
My pursuers were faster than I was—they were closing in quick, some in the trees above me, some coming close behind. It wasn't my fault, of course; I was trying, but I couldn't help being a half-blood, could I?
My lungs were beginning to burn; unlike them, I did need to breathe and, presently, my throat was aching for water, also unlike their undeniable thirst for blood. My head pounded, and I could taste blood in the back of my throat, dampness in my nose—I supposed that the dry air had caused my nose to bleed, but I was so frozen I couldn't even consider reaching up to check, even if I wouldn't pause in my run.
I could feel them getting closer, feel my resolve fading—why, if they were going to get me eventually, did I not stop running? I guess I couldn't fathom the idea of giving up when this was surely my last chance at surviving, because I had no doubt about what they would do to me.
We'd been running for years, my family and I, from the Volturi. When my other powers manifested, on my third birthday—really, I looked twelve, but if we're being technical here, it was my third birthday—they came for me. My dad told me what they were obviously planning on doing, although he didn't let them get close enough for him to read their minds: he said that they would take me, use me, make me one of them—one of the red-eyed, one of the cloaked; that's what I called them when I was little, and it stuck. They would make me kill people, people who were like that different part of me, people like how my mom used to be, people like my grandpa. Innocents. My uncle, Jasper, made me promise I wouldn't let that happen. He trained me. How to fight with my bare hands, how to run, how to save myself.
"Ness," he would say. "You promised me, remember? You know what to do, don't you, honey?"
And I did. He never said it out loud—never, because then my father would burn him to ashes—but I knew. He wanted me to kill myself. It sounds awful—I mean, especially to anyone who isn't exactly in my situation—but it's not. Because, like he always said, if I did what he wanted me to do—what I promised him I would do—nobody would die because of me. I knew there was nothing worse than having the death of an innocent on your conscience. I knew how it hurt my grandpa, Carlisle, all of those people he killed in his newborn days, and my dad, when he went through what mom called his "rough patch."
We moved every few months. I didn't go to school—we tried, once, last year, after I stopped growing, but it was too hard for me to deal with, leaving before I even adjusted. We always ran, bought a house somewhere random, somewhere secluded, barely ever leaving the house, and then we'd run again. My aunt Alice could sometimes see them coming—she can see the future, you know—but sometimes it slips past her, when they make quick decisions. Aro—he's one of them, one of the Volturi—always has someone hunting for us. It's usually Demitri, although his powers are entirely useless due to my mother's shield, which she jokes is forever stretched into the shape of our family.
And, despite knowing for years that, eventually, this would happen, I have to admit that I am terrified. I pumped my legs harder, but my entire body was numb now, my legs continuing to run but staying at a steady pace, making me unable to go faster—but also unable to slow. I can feel my heart breaking, tiny bits and pieces falling away with the thought of my family, how they've sacrificed so much to protect me, but I've still been caught. How could you let this happen? I think. How could you? Are you stupid?
I glanced upward. There are at least four in the trees above me, easily keeping up, not tiring at all—but of course; I'm the only one who can tire. My head was pounding even harder by this point, and I couldn't concentrate enough to use my powers, to do something to try and confuse them. My eyes were getting blurry, dried from the cold, from the wind. I could feel almost feel myself breaking down, feel the layers and layers of skin on my feet being torn off.
When the one behind me—whoever it was—finally pounced, tired of our little game, I was surprised. I fell forward, face-planting into the snow, the sudden lack of speed causing me to sink even further down, and slide downward. Whoever had me held me down, and I could barely even struggle. What was the point, really? I didn't have the strength to use my powers, let alone fight a full vampire. I was, truly, burnt out. I could hear the others jumping from the trees, coming from behind, to surround me. They seemed surprised at my lack of fight. I don't think they realize that I am, really, more human than I am vampire.
"Tie it up!" a booming voice shouts, startling me. His use of the word it—he called me it!—made me wince, and I was trembling as they tied my hands up behind me, tied my ankles together. "Be careful! Aro wants it to be in perfect condition." I couldn't stand the way that he talked about me as if I was some antique that they spent a lot of money on, and were afraid to ruin. I wasn't an it. I was a person. I ground my teeth together, my anger sending a flood of energy into me. I heard it before I realized I was doing it—the vampire who had spoken began to scream in agony. I turned my face to the side, saw him fall to the ground in pain. I gritted my teeth. I never liked to use that one. I felt like Jane, the young girl in the Volturi who inflicted pain similar to mine, although I didn't exactly need to look at the person—it was more . . . sensing the energy of their mind, the same way my dad can sift through a group of people's minds to locate a specific one. It's like a web, almost. And it wasn't just pain—I could create an illusion of any image, emotion, or scene in a person's mind. Uncle Jasper made me do it to him, once—the illusion of pain—while we were training. He said he needed to know what extent I could do it—how it would, really, feel. He said it was worse than anything you could imagine—worse than Jane's power, even. Grandpa Carlisle said it came from my ability, as a child, to do the same—but only with physical contact. But, when I was younger, I never really tried to project anything other than memories and thoughts and wants of my own. And then, at my birthday party, without realizing it, I projected a thought to my mom—who was, at the time, across the room from me. She was stunned. It was nothing bad, of course—I was thinking about this outfit I was hoping she'd got for me, and somewhat wishfully trying to pass on the idea to her; had she bought it, or not? Although it turned out to be more than wishful thinking. And then there was the shield—it was, obviously, something I inherited from my mother, but it was different. It was . . . physical. I could only conjure it mentally, but it was . . . solid. A force field, my uncle Emmett had called it—invisible, but powerful. Jacob, being the ridiculous werewolf he was, had been joking around, and accidently bumped into the cake. I tried to block it with my hands—my outfit was new and, of course, expensive—but, instead, it completely missed me, jumping to at least ten feet away . . . onto my grandmother. Awful for her, I know, but not as awful for me.
Somehow, the Volturi found out—apparently, my powers would prove to be even more useful than Jane's and her brother Alec's, and this intrigued Aro. (According to my father, everything intrigued Aro.)
Anyway, after I mentally attacked one of my attackers, the others all cursed and swore and pounced on me, until the one who'd been on my back, holding me down, pressed his ice-cold hand over my nose and mouth, effectively cutting off my air supply. Before I knew it, gray was spotting my vision, exploding everywhere in my line of sight, and, before long, everything went black.
When I finally come to, I'm somewhere entirely unrecognizable—it's pitch dark, quiet, and I feel numb to my very core. After a few minutes, I begin to panic—I'm honestly numb, and I can't feel, see, or hear anything. My chest tightens, and I can feel the panic blossoming to something even greater—something huge, that I can't begin to stop. I realize that it must be Alec, Jane's brother—he's numbing me, with his power. That must mean . . . I'm in Volterra? I remember Alec's face—well, vaguely—from when I was a baby, and he was not there in the woods, amidst my attackers. I wonder at how quickly we must have gotten here—or how long I'd been out—considering I was in Alaska last time I checked, and now I'm in Italy.
Slowly, the numbing sensation begins to fade, and I can feel the stinging pain of my raw feet, throbbing, and my soaked-through clothes, ruined by the snow. I still can't see, though, or hear—I can feel solid, stone floor underneath me, my still-burning lungs and throat, and every aching bone in my body. I start to reach out with my mind, to try and find any minds near me, any spots of energy, but just as I start to look, I start to feel the numbing sensation again, and I stop. I sag against the floor, and consider speaking—but then I realize that I wouldn't be able to hear myself talking, and that whatever I said wouldn't be the right thing to say.
My hands are still tied behind my back, and I can feel the coarse rope digging into my wrists, deeper and deeper every time I move.
Slowly, my vision starts to return—I force my eyes open as wide as I can as shapes begin to materialize around me, gradually, like images loading on an old computer screen. Three people, standing in front of me. Slowly, but surely, coming into focus—I gasp, when I realize it is Aro, and his brothers, Marcus and Caius, but I don't hear the sound. Aro looks unhappy, and Marcus looks disinterested, while Caius looks furious. Slowly, sounds find their way to my ears, too, and the room is almost completely silent, aside from low chatter coming from behind me, although I don't dare turn around. I grit my teeth.
"Silence!" Aro exclaims, his voice a low growl. The room quiets faster than you would think, and then Aro sighs, dramatically, and clucks his tongue. I glare. "I really do wish you had brought her back in better condition, Felix," he murmurs. It's as if the whole room is holding their breath, waiting for Felix, who I remember being large and muscular—similar to Emmett. I'm surprised I didn't recognize him in the woods. He was, surely, the one who had spoken, and whose mind I had plucked at.
"If only she hadn't fought—" Felix starts.
"—but of course she would," Caius cuts him off. "Vermin. Scum," he murmurs under his breath, and I'm surprised he doesn't spit on me. I sit up taller, and turn to look at Felix. I'm surprised to see the crowd gathered in the back of the room to witness this, and rapidly pick out the few people I recognize—Jane, Alec, Demitri, Renata, the wives—but find myself mostly amidst strangers.
"How is your little army, Felix?" I spit out, fuming.
"Fantastic," he replies, glaring just as fiercely as I am. "No thanks to your little mind tricks."
"Oh?" I say, cocking my head to the side. "I thought you'd like those." I send a wary look at Alec, but quickly send a quick burst of pain to Felix's mind. He nearly doubles over. I smile but, somewhere inside me, I'm being torn to pieces. I hate this. I can't wait until they lock me up somewhere, and I can cry.
Aro clears his throat, and I turn back to look at him. Now that I'm awake, I easily yank my hands out from the pathetic rope they used to tie them, and tear my ankles apart. I stand up, and try to conceal how badly my hands are shaking by wiping off stray leaves from my jeans, glaring at the many vampires who move to grab me.
"I'm not going anywhere," I snap. "So back away."
Aro smiles at me, looking pleased. "How are you, Renesmee, darling? You've caused quite the trouble for me the past few years."
"I'd hope so," I say, sending a sideways glance at Caius, who continues to mutter under his breath, too low for me to pick up on what he's saying.
"And my, how you've grown!" he exclaims, his eyes traveling hungrily up and down my figure. I resist the urge to slap him.
"I haven't," I tell him, "since last year."
"Ah. So they were right, then."
"Yes," I say, although he didn't ask. He knew they were right. I steel myself for what must happen next, forcing all feeling as far away as possible. I grit my teeth. "Now, Aro, as much as we both know you adore a good show, how about you and I have a little chat?"
"Of course, my dear," he says, cheerily. He looks thoroughly amused with himself.
"In private," I say, through my teeth.
"Ah. Of course." Aro looks around the room. "Alec, Felix, Demetri. Stay. Everyone else . . . please leave. Quietly." Aro turns to his brothers. "Our guest would like to speak to me, brothers," he says, as if they missed our entire conversation. I almost scoff at his use of the word "guest".
Caius scowls, but Marcus remains passive. They both turn around swiftly, their dark robes swishing as they disappear to a back room.
Soon, we are alone—well, aside from Alec, Felix, and Demetri—and Aro gestures for me to continue.
"I'd like to propose a deal," I say, although this deal is most certainly not one that I intend to keep. Aro looks even more amused, but nods. "I offer you access to my powers—"
"Yes?" Aro exclaims.
"—in exchange for my freedom," I finish.
Felix scoffs behind me, but Aro looks surprised. "And how, exactly, would that work?" Aro asks.
"When you need my powers for something, I help you. Otherwise, I am free to do—and go—as I please."
"Well, that is very generous of you," Aro says. "But I'm afraid I must decline. Unfortunately, my dear, I don't trust you to return."
I swallow, and feel my strength slipping through my fingers, my last bit of confidence shattered. "My family will come for me," I tell him. "As soon as they realize you have me, they will come."
Aro nods. "I'm sure."
"We've been preparing for this for four years," I say.
Aro nods again. He says nothing, but looks at me, calculating. "What to do, what to do . . ."
"Aro," I whisper, giving up the act. I feel tears forming in the back of my throat. I'm choking on them. "Please. Please don't do this to me." My voice cracks towards the end. The entire room is silent. "I couldn't . . . I couldn't stand it," I murmur. "Please, Aro."
I sink down to my knees, and the tears finally spill from my eyes, coming down my cheeks in torrents.
"Alec, take Renesmee to her room," Aro says. He doesn't even look at me.
Sobs tear from my chest. "Aro, please!" I scream. "Please!" He turns away, disappearing into the dark shadows in the back of my room. Cold hand grab the tops of my arms, and then all sensations disappear once again only this time, I'm grateful. To my disappointment, it doesn't last long, and I soon find myself in a large, cold room, sitting on a wrought iron bed with small metal flowers and dark red porcelain-looking
Alec is standing in front of the bed, expression blank, eyes shrouded in darkness. His skin is perfect—slightly olive-toned, yet somehow still porcelain-looking—and his hair is dark, wavy, falling across his forehead. He doesn't meet my gaze. I wipe at my tearstained cheeks, watching him. "There's food in the kitchen," he says, in a forced pleasant tone, and gestures to a kitchen area behind him. "And clothing in the closet. I'm not sure if it is your size, though—Aro had it purchased years ago, when this entire thing began. He'll send someone to buy more clothes, if you'd like. I assume that someone will be checking in periodically, and Aro won't stand for any misdemeanor, so I would—"
"Look at me," I say, quietly. Tears are still falling from my eyes steadily, but I don't care. I need someone, anyone, to look at me; not through me, not behind me, not over me. At me. Alec freezes, but doesn't turn. "Look at me," I say again, and, although I'd been hoping to sound strong, or forceful, my voice cracks.
He does. Warily, almost as if he is afraid of me. His cold expression slowly fades, replaced by one of guilt and remorse and regret. Suddenly, his blood-red eyes don't scare me the way that Aro's or Felix's do. "I'm so sorry," he says. That's all. And then the mask is back on, filled with hatred—either for himself or me or the guard or Aro, I don't know—and he quickly leaves the room, locking the door behind him, I'm sure.
I collapse onto the bed, sobs exploding from my chest. I bury my face into a pillow on the bed, and scream—I scream, and I scream, and I scream. My heart is breaking, and I am alone.
I try and picture my dad, but, for some reason, I can't draw up his face in my mind. I wonder if it's because I'm here, in this awful place, and I don't want him to be stuck here with me. I almost wish I could use my own powers on myself, get some false emotion, bring up some memories of me and my dad, or me and Jake, or me and mom . . . but I can't. And then I think of poor Uncle Jasper, who must feel like this all of the time, being an empath and all—I wonder if he always wishes he could manipulate his own emotions, and then I can't help but wonder why I never asked him.
After a while, I get up of the bed, and nearly cry again—my feet are red and bloody and raw. As a part-vampire, I do have somewhat accelerated healing, but not by much, and definitely not as helpful as the healing of the werewolves; injuries take maybe half the time of a regular human to heal, but that isn't much. And my skin, over time, has softened—it's barely any harder than that of a human now. I cringe with every step I take, but I walk over to the closet, and open the double doors. I pull open the drawers, and find a pair of thick socks that will hopefully make my feet hurt less, but everything else in the closet, like Alec says, definitely won't fit me. Sighing, I shut the closet doors, slip on the socks, and limp back over to the bed, where I strip to my underwear and bra and climb under the covers in the bed, waiting for sleep that I know won't come.
Review, please! Reviews are very important for the first few chapters, because they usually determine whether or not I'll continue a story, or just pull the plug. So please review! Next chapter should be up next time I update all of my other fics, probably in the next two days.