3One-Shot Volturi Competition: Felix's Story Written by Tami Flournoy
[A/N: This was written for a one shot competition about how a member of the Volturi was changed. I was fortunate enough to place third in the competition. As with everything I wrote last year, it had a way of relating to my fan fiction, 'Indian Summer'. So this short story can stand alone, or be looked at as background information for the fifth part of my fan fiction. I hope that either way, you enjoy it.]
Felix's Story: Angel of Death
Written by Tami Flournoy
The soldier awoke to protesting limbs. His tortured breaths produced little puffs of frosted dew and each intake of freezing air numbed the searing pain within his lungs. It was dark. He couldn't hear a sound but sensed death in the air…it surrounded him. It called to him. He heard the raucous laughter of Matteo Amaro--his father once again. The sound of taunting chilled him more than the freezing cold.
"You're worthless, boy. Just like your mother. Just like your sisters." Matteo sneered at him. He had only been five years old. Felix had just spent the last hour milking their cow on that chilly January morning eighteen years ago, only to trip when his too-big shoes caught on the bottom step to the back door. The milk hadn't been the only thing spilt that day. His father had back handed him so hard that his nose had bled.
The memory came to his mind as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. Matteo Amaro was a man who lived up to his name, Amaro - Bitter. A night at the pub certainly never made life any more pleasant for those with whom he lived —those for whom his mead meant welts, torn flesh and broken bones.
The soldier shuddered again, this time not from the cold, and gladly welcomed the return of blackness.
He awoke again. It was still pitch black. He heard a gasp from somewhere in the gloom, far away. He tried to call out but his throat wouldn't cooperate. Where was he? Was this Perdition? No, it was too cold for Hell. But it was too dark for heaven; Purgatory then…maybe? He remembered the many times he'd prayed for death to come for him. Come and remove him from the clutches of the vile man he called Father. The man he was convinced was Satan himself. But death never came…until now. He started to fade again remembering one such time he'd prayed for the deliverance of eternal sleep.
Matteo had come home to take out his displeasure at losing his Roman Silver in a game of dice. His little sister, Nina was the first victim. His father threw her tiny form across the room so hard that a post in the wall frame broke. So did something in little Nina's back. She would spend the rest of her short life crippled; giving Matteo Amaro another reason to be unhappy.
Felix had tried to come to his sister's defense after Matteo had thrown her. He ran at the older man, kicking him as hard as he could in the shin but even with his growing stature, his twelve-year old frame was no match for his hulking father. The soldier's scalp tingled from reliving the shock of being pulled from the ground by the hair of his head and spat in the face before the pummeling started.
Felix could still remember the sensation as his father's alcoholic spittle ran down his cheek and off his chin. He remembered his own impotent rage, as his dear mother ran to Nina's side where she lay sobbing and broken in a heap on the floor, and his father's callous disregard as he kicked his Mother out of the way and demanded she serve him before his food got cold.
Cold—that was what it was--cold and dark. An acute pain began in his leg. He tried to rise up to inspect it but hit his head on something hard, like plaster, just six inches above him. The soldier looked around carefully and tried to remember what had led him to this place--this place of cramped darkness. He tried to remember where he was…who he was. But all that came again was another memory from the hidden recesses of his past. Another memory he had worked hard to keep covered, buried away forever. Somehow, it demanded his acknowledgment.
This time he was sixteen. His physique was large and impressive from the years of being the 'man' of the house. It had been he who chopped the wood, cleared the fields and worked the land. All of this had left his muscles strong and formidable. The years had hardened more than his muscles though; they had also solidified his hatred towards his father. His little sister Nina had died four years earlier. This left him, his older sister Maria and his mother Tessa, to bear the wrath of the man who was Matteo Amaro.
"Tessa," he'd demanded as he stomped into the house. The call was not unusual; it was what he held that was the bombshell. It was a little two year old boy. Mother had left the coals glowing in the fireplace and came to him immediately to have the toddler dumped in her arms. "Get this boy some food. And some clean clothes. His name is Armando."
"Who is he exactly," Felix demanded right back at him. His new physique gave him a confidence to face his Father's wrath that had not been there before.
"You're brother," was Matteo's smug reply.
Felix heard the tiny gasp that escaped his mother's lips. Unfortunately, so did his father, who spun on her and punched her square in the face sending her and little Armando both into the small wooden table beside the fireplace hearth.
"Don't you presume to judge me, Woman. If you kept me happy I wouldn't need to find my pleasure elsewhere." Matteo bellowed so loudly that it was heard throughout the neighborhood.
Felix was consumed by so much rage in that moment; built up over years of abuse and humiliation that he grabbed the first weapon his eyes fixed on--the poker, its end still in the smoldering coals where his Mother had left it moments before. He pushed its searing brand into his Father's exposed back. It burned immediately through his course shirt as he spun with an agonized roar.
"You dare to strike at my back? That is a coward's deed!" He raged. Felix prepared to strike again. This time the fight would at least be fair. His mother, Tessa arrived at the same conclusion and managed to wedge herself between them.
Felix couldn't believe his ears when his mother turned on him and chided him for dishonoring his father in such a vulgar manner. Felix had never felt so betrayed in his life—or more alone. He walked out the front door leaving his only change of clothes, his crying mother, his terrified sister, his half-brother, his domineering father and the only life he had ever known behind him.
He had traveled on foot from his hometown of Venice to Verona Italy. It had taken him over a week. He stopped nightly and survived on the hospitality of strangers whose modest homesteads lay along the way. For a small act of service, they graciously provided him with a meal and a night's sleep in their barn. He was shocked to discover through these encounters, that not all men treated their families with such brutal contempt as his father had. Once he had reached Verona he joined the ranks of the local militia and started to train in the art of war.
He came to again. It was still dark and cold. The darkness had lessened in its intensity somehow. There was a faint hue. When he moved his head up and to the left, he found a shaft of light shining through from far above. He thought that perhaps his stay in purgatory was at an end and the light would come for him now. The pain in his leg caused him to cry out. That had in turn brought on a spasm that shook his entire frame and debris rained down on him, choking off his protest. His throat was dry. The soldier began to fear that he was too deeply buried in the twisted debris for the light to find him and deliver him to his eternal rest. A disjointed thought entered his mind. The pile of rubble he lay beneath was all that remained of a church—an Abby. He lay dying in the broken ruins of the Abby of Nonantola. Perhaps that would make it easier for God to find him…somehow.
He heard a noise above him in the wreckage--a loud crash of sound; another's cries of anguish—fevered and then cut off suddenly.
He remembered then, He was Felix Amaro. He was a soldier of the Verona Guard. His company had been called up to help the forces from Vienna, his hometown, to fight against the Genoese-Pisan alliance for threatening the trade routes to northern Italy and disrupting the balance of power and wealth. They had begun their march from Verona two days ago on January 1, 1117. The night before they had found shelter from a winter storm in the pews of the famous Abby in Modena, only to have the intensity of the storm be upstaged early this morning by a terrible shaking of the ground beneath their feet. It shook ferociously and made Felix think about the walls of Jericho that were felled by the wrath of the Almighty. That was his last thought as the beams and the high ceiling collapsed onto him and dragged him into a great abyss.
There was more noise, more movement, more cries of horror and pain that cut off as quickly as they began. It was lighter. Felix realized that the cold had numbed the intensity of the pain in his leg and for that he was grateful. The sounds and cries came to him again and again. They were getting closer. Now that he could hear them more clearly, he heard something before the cries of those above him. He heard happiness, pleasure, joy. He thought it must be the Destroying Angel bringing death to those who had earned their reward. He knew he had been right; being in a sanctuary of God had made the difference. His journey was almost over. He eagerly awaited his turn. His thoughts began to turn one last time to the family he would leave. The family he had abandoned. His father he had always hated but never been allowed to destroy.
Finally, after what had seemed a lifetime of waiting, the rubble above him was lifted and he sucked in a jagged breath of fresh, cold air. The light blinded his eyes; so did his destroying angel. She was long-legged and tall, strong, beneath a head of rich mahogany hair her red eyes were set off by glimmering, multi-faceted skin that shimmered in the brilliant sunlight. She was as beautiful as she was deadly and he welcomed her coming and the release she would provide.
"Thank you my angel," He said though his parched throat made his supplication all but inaudible. Knowing that such an angel would hear his request he continued. "Only first, promise me that you will take my father as well. It is the only peace I can give to my family now."
"Your father?" The angel asked suddenly curious. Felix was amazed at how soothing her voice was. It felt like a cool brook over small stones. When he imagined it his throat ached for such comfort. How long had he lain buried, without water? Suddenly he felt he saw his father before him only he stood strong. Not broken like now. His Destroying Angel was with him. "Is this your father?" She asked the soldier. The older man turned at the sound of her voice. But it wasn't the glorious angel his eyes fixed on. No Matteo's eyes fixed on those of his son Felix. They were eyes filled with hatred and cruelty.
"What do you want? Come back to grovel have you?" Matteo mocked him.
"Do with him as you will." The angel told the soldier. With that open invitation from an angel of God, Felix did not hold back but returned in like kind every injury and hurt, he and the rest of his family had suffered at the hands of this demonic man. His rage consumed him until the life had been beaten out of his father. Then slowly Felix returned to himself. He was disoriented for a time. He was no longer in the home of his youth, gazing down on his father's dead body. He was back in the rubble of the church. He could now see that his leg was impaled on a sharp wooden spike that had broken during the collapse. The sight of it almost caused him to lose consciousness again. His angel looked on indifferently. He no longer cared for his life or his death. He had been permitted to give his family this final mercy…safety from the hands of the man who should have been their protector but was instead their master.
"Now that has been taken care of, will you do a favor for me?" The beautiful angel spoke to him again. When the soldier did not reply she continued. "There is a celebration in Volterra at week's end. It will be a grand affair and many of my kind will be there. You are strong and formidable. Plus you intrigue me. You seem to fear nothing. Not even death. You crave justice. It is rare indeed to find one in possession of so many noble qualities." The Destroying Angel gave Felix a dazzling smile that left his mind even more incoherent than the effects of his faltering consciousness did. He blinked to fight against the blackness as he concentrated harder on her words.
"My consort has been less than pleased with my many trysts and has refused to escort me to the affair. I require your services." She continued from where she stood and looked down at him. "Yes, cleaned up I think you'll be exactly what I need to send Demetri the right message. Oh, where are my manners? My name is Heidi. What do you say? I scratch your back…you scratch mine?" She said with another dazzling smile.
"I'm Felix," He managed to reply in a rasp. He was perplexed. This Angel of Death, Heidi, was passing him by? Or was this something else? Either way, he was not in a position to deny her anything, and the death of his father had been so satisfying. Not able to say more he merely nodded his assent.
That was when she did the thing the soldier least expected. She leaned over his neck and bit him. Bit him deeply. But Felix was a hard man, accustomed to pain. He didn't even cry out as she bit him once more.
He had the sense that he was flying away—away from the ruined Abby—away from his mangled comrades—away from his family—away from reality as he knew it. He knew subconsciously that his leg gave him torturous pain as it throbbed from its injury but it was overpowered in the growing sensation of burning. As he flew he could still feel the numbness of his frost bitten fingers and nose, but the fire consumed those too. Perhaps Heidi had given him a test while he'd been there in Purgatory. Perhaps by killing his father he was no longer worthy of heaven and was now being sent to burn in Hell forever. Yes, that must have been it. It was the only explanation for the intense burning that consumed his soul. He was sickened by the thought that he would meet his father in Perdition. That they would burn in this perpetual lake of fire and brimstone together. No there would be no mercy or justice for Felix Amaro that day. Heidi was not an Angel of Mercy but rather an Angel of Death after all.
Felix lost track of how long the flames of eternal damnation licked at him--consumed him from the inside out. Time had no meaning, as there would be no end to his new existence of hot coals. He only knew when he could endure the agony enough to think around its edges. He knew that he had made the right choice by taking his father down with him. If he'd endure in the everlasting flames of hell for penalty, then so be it. In doing so, he had accomplished in death what he had been unable to do in life. He had freed his family from their wicked tyrant, their oppressor. He had escorted Matteo Amaro down to hell with him. For a moment he worried about why he didn't see his father at this their final destination, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that perhaps somehow Satan had sent the man to an even lower level of Perdition; being the worse of the two.
Felix could also hear the words his angel spoke to him. She told him that he would become an angel of death like her. He wondered if this could be possible. Was redemption to be his after all? If he could bring others deliverance from their miserable mortal existence, then he would embrace his new future. He would go with his angel. He would celebrate his new reality. He clung to those hopeful thoughts as the fire consumed every tender memory he had of his sisters, his mother, the kindness of neighbors and strangers. It burned away the human longing he had long ago given up on—the longing to know a father's love and approval. As his heart beat its last protracted thud, the Felix that was, ceased to exist.
"Finally!" Heidi had said in relief that echoed Felix's sediments precisely. "I was starting to worry. You really are of great fortitude to endure such pain. You hardly cried out at all. Stand up and let's get a better look at you now." At her words he jumped swiftly to his feet. In his new existence, his leg had been made whole without a hint of its previous discomfort. His eyes blinked in confusion that quickly turned to excitement. He could see with the eyes of an angel. Yes, he would like his new life, his new calling very much. That was when the burn in his throat became intolerable and his angel taught him the ways of an Angel of Death. He hardly understood what he did as he delivered his sentence of death upon those who happened upon his path. It was instinctual, swift and over quickly. He knew when his work was through for the day as his throat's dry ache abated somewhat.
Though he was immensely strong and graceful, Felix was proud at the attention his companion and mentor Heidi showered on him. He had never been the object of a female's desire and just the thought intoxicated him as that of the finest wine. He knew he behaved like a foolish oaf as he panted after her affection like a drunkard whose mug was drained. Still, it was the night of the Volturi Celebration, and he would be presented to other immortals on the arm of the most beautiful angel to have ever graced the great country of Italy.
He did have an evening he would never forget. The party had only been under way for a quarter of an hour, when another angel, named Demetri approached Heidi. He was upset and his look of displeasure rested on Felix's startled face. He wondered if this was the consort Heidi had spoken of. Hadn't she used the name Demetri? Felix didn't care. She had found him, she had chosen him. He knew that this Demetri would just have to adjust. She was a lady after all; he would protect her from those who would hurt her. Felix backhanded the other vampire with a force that sent him sprawling across the room. Immediately there were five vampires on him. Felix was more than a newborn, he was also a trained soldier and he was stronger than he'd ever been before in his life. He deftly maneuvered out of the grasps that sought to secure him as he moved once again towards his rival Demetri. He removed three more guards that tried to block his path and was about to attack the other again, when something unexpected happened. His angel, Heidi ran towards Demetri and held him in a protective manner.
Felix was confused by a swirl of emotions and memories that assaulted him. One memory was of an older woman between him and his monster father. She had begged for mercy for that demon. That memory was interspersed with that of this woman between him and the object of his fury—his rival. The woman was Heidi, his angel. Only now, she wasn't his. Now she was his rival's. Now she was with whom she really desired. How had Felix felt about that? Strangely, he felt many things at once and not a one of them was anger. He felt free, carefree to be what he chose and somehow, he was happy for his angel; happy that he had played his role so well; happy that he had repaid her kindness of allowing him to deprive his father of his worthless life.
He was presented to the Volturi leaders, Aro, Marcus and Caius. They were polite and interested in his size and strength, as it was stronger than was typical for most newborns. He could see from their questions that they were military leaders and he was being sized up for his worthiness of rank in their army.
Finally, the black haired Aro asked to take his hand. He explained that it was a special gift he possessed that he would be able to see his thoughts through the touch. Felix was not surprised to learn that there would be a diversity of gifts within the ranks of the Angels of Death, and so he raised his hand to meet Aro's without hesitation. After a few long minutes Aro stepped back from the new one and sighed deeply.
"Felix, you have been through so much. It is no wonder you have chosen to leave such a morose and tragic life behind you. And yet we should rejoice with you as you have triumphed over the chains of humanity. And we have so much to offer you here…with us in Volterra." The leader walked to his chair and sat. Felix wondered if being an angel for so long made him tire easily. He had not felt the need to rest even once in the few short days since becoming an angel himself.
"There are so many things in life that are good and joyful for you to experience. We would love to have you do so here with us as one of our guards—A prestigious honor befitting of your talent and skill. But there are still some issues from your past that must be dealt with first." Aro shook his head with a small smile on it. "First you must understand what you have become. And then you must understand that what you experienced of your father's death was only an illusion."
"Only an illusion?" Felix spluttered indignantly. "No! I was there. I saw him die. I killed him with my own hands. He can't still…" His voice faded out and his eyes narrowed. He wondered at what treachery he had witnessed. He felt as though he had played the fool for some woman's silly attempts at jealousy.
"I'm afraid so." The dark haired Aro conceded. "Heidi has a gift of her own. She can make you see your heart's desire. Apparently yours was your father's death?" He asked the last line as a question, though he clearly knew the truth.
"My father lives?" Felix demanded, his temper was rising swiftly. He had never had anger issues before that he could not control, but his emotions now came swiftly with an intensity that swept him away like the crush of a wall of flood waters.
"He lives for now," Aro qualified carefully. He didn't want to further incur the wrath of the newborn in front of him. "Now, as you have surmised, there was a powerful earthquake the day Heidi found you. It centered out from Verona and leveled the church in the town you were in over 66 miles away. It has caused havoc in Vienna as well. It may be some time before you can travel there unseen to exact your revenge. But repaying your father's 'kindness' in kind is a worthy goal for you and one I am eager to help you accomplish, were you to choose to join with us. I could even provide you with the services of our most gifted tracker. I believe you have made his acquaintance already." Aro seemed slightly amused as he inclined his head towards the vampire who had gathered Heidi in his arms; his face holding a look of dreamy anticipation. "…Demetri." Aro said gleefully while clapping his hands together.
"Oh, this is wonderful! Wonderful!!!! The raging fires of revenge are hotter when they burn in the cold hearts of our kind!" Aro said, his merriment sounding musical and trilling.
Felix felt an odd sensation at the Volturi leader's words. Aro had explained that his father still lived, that if he joined with them they would help him track the vile man down and help him finish him off once and for all. He's spoken of cold hearts. This was clearly an allusion to what they were…what he was now too. Then Aro's earlier statement crashed down on him. He was almost afraid to ask. Had he misunderstood? Had Heidi given him more than one illusion?
"What exactly is it about what we are—what I now am, that I need to understand?" Felix asked as he fought to control the panic that intensified to an overwhelming dread. "Aren't we Angels of Destruction…Angels of Death?" He could sense something horrible coming. Something he didn't want to know. Something he should have known already but it refused to surface on its own.
"No, we're not." Aro said before amending, "Well, we are Angels of Death in a very real sense." He added in a chuckle that was echoed by those in the chamber.
"No, we're not on any mission from the Almighty, if that's what you're thinking Felix. No, far from that. No, no, heaven forbid!" he said expansively as he held out his hands dramatically to more laughter. "No Felix my dear boy, All of us, yourself included have been lifted from the realm of mere mortal existence into an eternity as an immortal…as vampires."
As the words sunk in the soldier dashed from the room. He could hear Aro's pleasant voice as he left the castle grounds. "We're here to embrace you as one of our own as soon as you're ready." Then he seemed to talk to someone else from within the castle walls. "He really is a strong vampire that one. Nice choice Heidi! I can't wait until we see him again!"
Felix ran and ran and ran, trying to escape the callous cackling laughter of his father that taunted his brain once more. The day turned to night and the night turned to day but his efforts were vain. The laughter didn't lessen. He could hardly believe what he had become--a monster worse than his father had ever been. It took eight long years to quiet his father's taunting to the recesses of his new complex mind. When he finally did so, he came to terms with his new reality and embraced his new family in Volterra. When that happened, the first thing Aro did was send him out with Demetri to track the man who had driven him from his home in the first place. The man he held responsible for his immortal state of darkness. When he had found the man he once called Father and repaid all of the years of pain and suffering he could not help but muse once more about how aptly the man had been named, Amaro – Bitter. Even the taste of his blood was bitter, warm and bitter, as it ran through Felix's cold veins; unable to quench the raging need for revenge that lay like a burning lump of coal within his frozen heart.
