I was so, SO tempted to call this story "The Lure," but after "The Pet" and "The War" I decided I needed to up my title game. Here be the wee little prologue to give people a taste of what this story is about.
You probably thought I wouldn't get this far,
You thought I'd end up in the back of a car.
You probably thought that I'd never escape,
I'd be a rat in a cage, I'd be a slave to this place…
PROLOGUE
It's pretty safe to say that today is not one of my favourite days of all time.
I shrug in response to my captor's question, my one aching shoulder twinging fiercely with the effort. I can't quite squash the hiss of pain that gusts through my teeth or the cringe that curves my spine. The blonde man - er, man-pire, I guess - looks concerned, his perfect brows knitting together. I feel a small bud of hope pop open in the pit of my chest. Concern is good – I can work with concern. If he really is a doctor like he says he is, then he should have some drugs stashed away. The medicinal kind, anyway. I sure wouldn't say no to a dose of morphine right now. I'm feeling all weird and woozy. Not to mention worried as hell. I've been gone for over twenty four hours now. The last time that happened, Anton was angry. Bite-worthy angry.
"Is your shoulder still in pain?" The man asks, his voice low. It's kind of soothing. I'm not used to people talking softly.
I go for another nonchalant shrug before thinking the better of it. "Well, yeah. Getting hit by a car tends to do that to you."
My tone is ruder than I intended, but given that I've been kidnapped once a-fucking-gain, I'm not in the nicest of moods. However, the doctor – Carlisle, or so I've been told - decides to overlook it, instead offering me a half-sympathetic, half-guilty smile. He would want to be fucking guilty, given that he's the one that hit me and all.
Still, he can't take all the credit. I was the one that went barrelling out behind his car while he was reversing. Not on purpose, though. I'm long since over that shit. Even hyped-up vampy senses couldn't have stopped him from sending me sprawling. According to that bulky vampire with the blonde girlfriend, I'm lucky that this Carlisle drives like a grandmother.
"You…uh…" I feel awkward asking, though I don't know why, given that I never really feel any shame. Maybe it's the fact that every corner of this house is just so fucking fancy that it made my teeth hurt to look at it and I doubt very much that they're accustomed to having white-trash junkie teenagers mussing up their bed linen. "You got any pills? Y'know, stuff for pain, or whatever?" I tack on the 'whatever' both to seem casual and to leave the opportunity for medical pot open. Frickin' genius, really.
Carlisle's smile doesn't dampen. "I'm afraid not. We don't really have much need for medication in this house."
I visibly deflate, sinking into my seat with a sigh. This is so fucked up. I'm away from home yet simultaneously under house arrest, my shoulder's all fucked up and I'm one hundred percent stone-cold sober. My life has reached a low that I never imagined reachable, and that is truly saying something.
"How long have you known about vampires?" Carlisle asks. I have a sneaking suspicion that this little chat we're having is more about gathering intel for the incoming gestapo than any actual curiosity.
I fight a scowl, remembering that these people are the ones feeding me and I'd very much like to stay fed. "Dunno. 'Bout four years or so." I fidget in my seat, suddenly highly uncomfortable. I'm none too pleased with this whole delving-into-my-skeleton-filled-closet portion of my stay. I miss Esme and her pancakes.
"And you were with this other coven the entire time?"
I nod, only because it doesn't hurt as much as shrugging.
"And…before that?"
I feel a sudden clenching sensation low in my stomach. The ache remains as I straighten out of my slouch, trying hard to keep my much-practiced poker face in place. My heart – that fucking traitor – is the one to give me away, its pace quickening to a steady sprint as moisture slicks my palms. "Well, I don't believe that's any of your business, now is it?"
Carlisle has the decency to drop his gaze. Speaking to a frame on his office table, he apologises. "I'm sorry, it's just the more we know, the more we can help you."
The ache in my midsection turns colder. "I doubt that."
Carlisle looks like he wants to say something, his forehead all creased and his eyes all soulful and concerned. I hate it. I kind of hate it a lot. Pity isn't something I've ever wanted, not from anyone. Particularly not from any high-end vampires with fancy rides and a house straight out of some vintage version of MTV. Lucky for me, Carlisle's next spiel is interrupted before it begins by a rapping on his door.
"Yes?"
The door swings open and in its place stands one of the many, many vampires I've found myself surrounded by. There are absolutely millions.
"Carlisle."
Well, perhaps not millions, but pretty damn close. Certainly a fuck lot more than I'm accustomed to. According to Anton a coven of four is big enough. Right now, in this house, there are nine, plus some werewolves – naturally – and a kid that is a vampire but also isn't. I didn't pay attention to the technicalities when they were explained to me. All I know is that I am in way over my head and I'd like to leave as soon as humanely possible.
"Carlisle, Alice says five minutes. Eleazar was right – there are a lot of them."
And, apparently, there are about to be a great deal many more people of the undead variety for me to deal with. Jesus tapdancing Christ, what a bad time to be claustrophobic.
Some strange expression flickers across Carlisle's face. One of the offspring at the door – a lanky boy a little older than me in rather dire need of a comb – grimaces. The other – the joker's pretty blonde girlfriend – looks nothing short of livid. It's not all that intimidating, but it sure isn't encouraging, either. After a few beats of silence, the boy speaks. "We need to get ready."
Carlisle nods, rising slowly as if it takes effort. "Yes, of course. Have everyone converge in the dining room. There's…more room there." He sighs in such a way that I almost feel a smidge of pity for him. Almost. Just a smidge. Not quite. "Veronica-"
And the usual ferocious passion that flares up in hatred of my name prompts the practiced: "Veronica was my grandmother. I'm Ronnie."
"Right, of course, my apologies."
Funnily enough, of all the things he should have been saying sorry for – hitting me with his car, stealing me away from my coven, holding me hostage in his fucking mini-mansion and calling the fucking vampire cops on me, no less – this is the first apology I've gotten.
Another silence falls as Carlisle and Combless stare at each other. They do that a lot. The silence makes me nervous, and I reach up and begin twiddling with my nose piercing. It's not the most attractive habit in the world, I'm aware, but God damn it, it brings me a little calm and I fucking well need a little calm right now. What kind of fucking doctor doesn't have medical marijuana on hand?! Certainly no kind of doctor I've ever come across.
God, what I wouldn't give to be curled up under my blanket watching South Park reruns on our crappy TV. I'd even put up with Jesse's haughty, judgemental glaring. Makes it feel like home, I guess.
"Ronnie, go with Edward. He'll brief you on what to do when the Volturi arrive."
So, with much reluctance and another heaving sigh, I go with Edward. The blonde girl ducks into the office before he closes the door and gestures down the hall. I turn to follow after him, suddenly really fucking tired. And a little pissed. I mean, I know they're outnumbered and all, but seriously. When Anton finally comes for me, I shall be very sore with him indeed.
"Carlisle, I don't like her chances."
I jerk to a stop not two steps away from the door, heart beginning to thrum faster under my sternum.
"You know the Volturi have it out for us. They'll probably kill her out of sheer spite."
Another classic Carlisle sigh. "I know. But we can't not try, Rosalie. There's a life at stake. She's so young."
"I know, Carlisle. Really, I do. This whole thing absolutely sucks. But we have to think of our family, too. No way the Volturi are going to let this pass!"
I tense all over. Edward, still beside me, freezes too. My heart hits out at my ribs, harder and harder.
"Come on," Edward says, indicating the stairs at the end of the hallway with a twitch of his unruly head. He sounds awkward – as if he's the one being listened in on. "We've still got some prep work to do."
vVv
"You don't have to do anything," Esme says, smoothing my hair out. I can't say I approve of all this petting, but I keep my mouth shut. If a little manhandling is what these people want in return for vouching for me against the vampire world's resident Gestapo, then so fucking be it. "Let us do the talking. They'll ask you a few questions, I imagine, so try to be…" Esme trails off, a set of flawless teeth pinching down on her lower lip.
"Tactful," Alice supplies.
In other words: keep my smart mouth shut until absolutely and completely necessary. I can dig that. I don't wanna die. At the very least, I wanna live long enough to chew Jesse out over losing me like that. Fucking prick.
I shift uncomfortably at the edge of the rock-hard sofa. Vampires don't care much for comfort. This was made excruciatingly obvious by the nifty little outfit they stuffed me into.
When I first arrived, I'd been wearing my luring clothes: a little skirt, knee-high socks, buckle-over heels and a tiny, clingy, low-slung sweater. The Cullens were appalled. Now I'm in this weird silky shirt and a pencil skirt, complete with soft pumps and pantyhose, for fuck sakes. Alice scrubbed my hair out with this salon-quality shampoo and left it all soft. It's been scooped back into a tight bun, which I find highly uncomfortable, but any time I've even thought about reaching to loosen it or whip a few strands free, Alice has smacked my hand straight back into my lap.
"You have to make the right impression," she insists.
In more other words: try and look like a proper, functional human being rather than a druggie slut with too much information.
I can't say I blame these vampires for wanting to switch up my regular look, but that doesn't mean I have to like it one smidgen of a bit. I scowl at the pale blue nail polish on my recently clipped nails, different from my usual black or red. I disapprove. Hugely.
One of the huge, dark-skinned men shrugs closer to Edward, leaning in for a conspiritory chitchat, but no words are spoken as I watch them out of the corner of my eye. After a moment, Edward gives a harsh, tired sigh.
"Fight?" He replies, his voice dripping with something acidic. "More like beg. Grovel, actually. They'll enjoy a bit of grovelling."
"Great," the biggest vampire, Emmett, grumbles, rubbing his hands over his face in a show of frustration.
It's so odd. I've never seen vampires move like these do. At best, any vampires I've ever come across range from rigid to blindingly speedy. If anyone fought past all those layers of survival instinct we're supposed to have long enough to watch one, they'd realise that something isn't quite on point. These, the Cullens, move more like people. Huh, I think, feeling grudgingly impressed. That's smart. This place is pretty isolated, but I'm sure they venture into that little town from time to time. No harm looking a little more people-ish around the actual people. I'll have to bring that little tip home.
"Two minutes," Alice mumbles. Simultaneously, every body in the room stiffens, including mine.
I've heard of the Volturi. Jesse ranted extensively about them when Anton first brought me home, all little and knowledgeable and a complete infraction of the law. Those are the words Jesse used. I remember because his vocabulary puzzled me. I'd never heard anybody talk so eloquently before. I didn't really understand what he was saying. Anton'd explained, gently, about their world and its rules – and the ones that enforced them.
They were the reason I was brought in in the first place. So, no matter how badly this entire thing might go, I can't really hate them too much. Can't say I wouldn't appreciate a little leeway on their part, though. A pinch of compassion, stirred in with a dash of mercy.
The Cullens sure aren't optimistic, though.
Carlisle and Rosalie flit into the room, foreheads scrunched up with identical worry lines. Carlisle catches my stare and smooths his expression out in an attempt to be reassuring. The fact that he ends up looking like the sad clown doesn't really help.
How they can all sit so comfortably in absolute silence is completely beyond me. I fidget and squirm, feeling awkward. They all stand in couplets, staring at the walls, waiting. Carlisle waits in front of them all, ready to bear the brunt of Aro's inevitable fury. Esme sits beside me in a similar outfit to mine, my clammy hand clasped tightly between hers, silent, waiting.
Eventually and far too soon, the jig is up.
I don't know if they hear them or smell them or whatever, but the Cullens and the six wolf-people all look up at the same time, their bodies clenching in anticipation. Squaring his shoulders in his expensive navy jacket, Carlisle moves towards the front door. Esme's hands twitch a little tighter around mine, but I can't manage to look at her face. My eyes are glued to the front door, straining to hear. The half-breed child whimpers.
Carlisle pulls the door open even though nobody knocks, revealing two dark-clad men.
"Demetri, Felix," Carlisle nods, stepping aside to let them in.
I inhale shakily. Here we go.
My stomach shrivels up tight the instant I lay eyes on them. I don't know which is which, but one of them is huge – bigger even than Emmett – and bulky to boot. His shoulders are vast under his cloak. My mouth dries up as I take in the intimidating bulge of his muscles. He's built like no one I've ever seen, and I don't doubt for a second that he could obliterate me with a single twitch of his pinkie. I thought that the red of their eyes would be comforting, something familiar, but no. As soon as this one meets my horrorstruck gaze, the blood begins to drain from my face. There's no kindness there, no human quality to his features like my boys or the Cullens. He's exactly as they described: a creature that exists to kill.
The second one is almost a relief. Almost. He's smaller than the titan, but by no means actually small. He passes six foot easily and, though quite lean, is clearly built for combat. Not that I'll be much of an opponent. He's got sandy blonde hair and immediately appears more pleasant than his companion. Or, at the very least, a smidge less bloodthirsty. He stares me down too, and as much as I'd love to sob and scramble under the sofa, I can't bring myself to move.
After Demetri and Felix, another vampire ghosts into the room. I know from Anton's detailed description of him that this is Aro.
My heart nearly stops at the sight of him.
He looks the same as he did three centuries ago, according to the picture in Carlisle's office. He doesn't bother to scan the crowd for me like the other two, just breezes casually through the door and clasps Carlisle's hands in his. Physically, he's not as fear-inducing as the others, but, somehow, I find him ten times more intimidating. Maybe it's the fact that this is the guy who'll decide whether I live or die. The others are just his henchmen – he's the one who gives the commands.
"Ah," he sighs, his voice a breathy whisper. His face is slightly pinched, and I realize with a jolt of alarm that he's unhappy - a bad start right off the bat. He pats Carlisle's hands twice before releasing them. "Ah, Carlisle. I did so hope that we would be reunited under happier circumstances, my old friend."
Carlisle's expression is equally as grim. "As did I, Aro."
Two more –both stone-faced and silent – file in the door behind Aro. A boy and a girl, my age, maybe a little older. I know from the stories that these are the Witch Twins.
They're both devastatingly pretty. The boy is tall and lean, but has strong shoulders under his uniform. His hood is pulled up over his head, but there are thick, dark bangs falling over his forehead, scattered from the wind outside. His eyes are perfect almond-shapes, with thick lashes as pretty as a girl's, but still somehow masculine. His high cheekbones, straight nose and full lips are lovely, and if I wasn't actually in dreadful mortal danger right now, I'd definitely like to spend some time gawking at him. He barely bothers to look at me. My throat dries right up as he gives me a once-over, pauses, then turns back to his master. He's not interested in me – he's just here to kill me.
His sister is just as beautiful. She tugs her hood down to reveal honey-blonde hair pulled back against her head in a military-neat bun. Her eyebrows are perfectly shaped arches. Her eyes are a little rounder than her brother's, giving her an almost innocent look, but that look is challenged by her thick black makeup. Her lips are full, too, pouty and feminine. She gives me an even shorter look than her brother, uncaring.
I don't know whether or not it's a good sign that Aro is the only one of the three leaders to come. I examine the rest as they enter, but none of the faces match the ones in Carlisle's picture. My heart sinks as more and more of them come through the door. They all wear identical masks of indifference beneath their hoods. I search their faces, trying to find something – anything – to give me a bit of hope to cling to. What I find is a girl a bit older than me. I'm not really sure what it is about her that catches my attention until she pulls her hood back, revealing her hair. It's pinned back tight against her head, and I can see why – it's snow-white, clearly bleached, with several streaks of bright electric blue plaited up to make them seem smaller. She catches my impressed stare and, while no one else is looking, shoots me a quick wink.
Somehow, I find this stranger than all the practiced indifference. Is she usually so friendly to the humans they're about to kill, or…is there hope after all?
I don't have time to unscramble my brains long enough to respond, because Aro is staring at me.
I try not to jump, but my fingers twitch in Esme's grasp. She strokes her thumb over my knuckles, trying to be soothing. Aro doesn't bother himself by trying to wade through the crowd to get to me. Instead, with Felix and Demetri tight at his sides, he raises his hand and beckons me with two long, white fingers.
"Come forward, my dear."
His voice is soft and gentle, but I'm not pacified. I sit stone-still, silently begging whatever Deity is listening to allow me to melt into these absurdly uncomfortable sofa cushions. Sadly, I stay solid and visible and Aro continues to stare, his brows perked expectantly. My eyes are round, and after a couple of agonising seconds have ticked by, Esme has to stand and help to pull me to my feet.
"It's alright." She breathes in my ear as if no one else can hear her, her soft hair tickling my cheek. I stand on numb legs, like a baby deer taking its first staggering steps. Aro twitches his fingers again. Fuck. Oh absolute fucking fuck. What I wouldn't give for a hit right now. Some nice downer to calm my nerves and dull the frantic emotions. But I've got nothing. This bout of luck is so typical that I could roll my eyes, if I was in the frame of mind to do so. Of course the one time I really need something – when I'm facing death of all things – I'm completely dry and nobody is willing to find my anything.
As I'm trying my best to induce some kind of placebo effect by imagining a joint burning in my cold, quivering fingers, Esme is guiding me across the floor by the hand. As soon as I realize that I'm standing right under Aro's nose, I have to choke back a whimper.
He reaches wordlessly for my hand, twined with Esme's. For a moment she hesitates, giving my fingers one last sorrowful squeeze, before Aro takes me from her and Carlisle carefully pulls her towards him. Aro's eyes brighten, and I know in the second our skin touches that my every memory is flooding into his head. I shut my eyes, shivering pathetically. It's been a long time since I've been this scared.
The idea that every single second of my shabby excuse for an existence is being probed and analysed by the man who's going to kill me is almost too much for me to bear. I feel cold all over, and for one worrying moment I think I'm going to pass out.
I wonder if he'll be the one to kill me? Probably. I mean, pecking order, and all that. Will he drink me, or will he just crank my head to the side and snap my neck and be done with it? Probably the drinking thing. Waste not want not, amirite?
As long as it's quick, I suppose I don't really care.
Aro's hands tighten around mine so sturdily that I think the bones in my hands must be creaking, grinding dust. I think I should feel something other than injustice about the fact that he's literally violating my mind. I don't like it, but on the other hand, I can't really bring myself to care. At this point, I'm just exhausted.
With a low exhale, Aro lets my hand flop weakly to my side. I can't even manage to take a step back from him. Personal space never really bothered me, and apparently it doesn't bother him. His expression is more sombre than before. He looks unsettled. With one quick glance over my ashen face, he slithers back a step, shaking his head.
"You've given me a lot to think about, young one."
None of the guard react to this, but I jolt, hardly daring to be shocked. Aro's actually going to think about this? He's really going to think things over before deciding if he wants to kill me? My heart lunges excitedly against my breastplate. As Esme takes my hand again, clasping my clammy fingers, Aro turns to Carlisle.
"It seems you were right, friend," he muses, his voice quieter than before. "She was, indeed, a lure."
Finally, the guard react. A low hum of murmusr reaches my ears, though when I examine their faces, their lips hardly seem to be moving. The hum ceases quickly when Aro holds a palm up towards them, a clear sign to shut their traps so he can think.
"Please, Aro," Carlisle implores. Aro glances into his face, creased with pleading. "She's just a child. It isn't her fault."
My mixed feelings towards Carlisle mix even further. I dart a glance between him and Aro, feeling my brows twitch together. Why, why couldn't he have just let me go? Why did he have to bundle me into that stupid shiny car and take me away? Why, when I blurted out those three shocked words – "you're a vampire" – couldn't he have shaken his head and told me I'd hit my head and was clearly out of my mind? Why did I have to speak at all? Why didn't I just take off, screaming for Anton at the top of my lungs? Why wasn't Anton watching me more closely? How did we all manage to fuck up so thoroughly?
Aro's sigh is laboured. Edward, behind me, takes the opportunity to throw in his two cents.
"Carlisle's right," he says, sounding as if he's swallowed ashes. I remember then that everything Aro saw in my head, Edward saw in his. I have to fight a groan. "This wasn't her doing, Aro. Find the others. Punish them, if you will – but she's innocent. Don't condemn her for a life that was forced on her."
Aro's expression is nothing short of weary. He glances from Edward to me, to Carlisle and back again. I try to force my face into the most imploring expression I can muster. I don't know if it does any good. Aro drifts back to his entourage, sighing.
"Yes…a lot to think about."
The room is silent for a moment before Aro lifts his head again. "Chelsea, dear?" He says lightly. "Jane? Come with me, please. We have much to discuss. Carlisle, Eleazar, perhaps you should come, too."
Two females break away from the tight formation of the Volturi guard: a tall woman with shiny auburn waves and beautiful catlike eyes, and the small blonde girl, one of the twins. They follow Aro out the door, with Carlisle and the dark-haired male from Tanya's visiting coven right behind them, off to decide my fate.
vVv
All things considered, the atmosphere in the Cullen house gets awkward real fast.
There's not much for the Volturi guard to do besides stand there and wait for their master to return. There's not much for any of the rest of us to do but shuffle our feet and sigh. Members of the wolf pack glower furiously at the encroaching vampires, who don't even bother to scowl back. Apparently, they're dedicated to protecting human life from vampires. The thought is almost comical. Fat lot of good they're doing now. The youngest, a boy my age, keeps frowning sadly in my direction. It's irritating. Emmett sighs restlessly and swings his huge arms back and forth. My teeth clench. Clearly my impending doom isn't all that entertaining to him.
The room is extremely crowded, and though less than a third of us are actually breathing, the air is extremely stuffy. Once again I find myself longing to be back in our building, napping carelessly on one of my comforters, not a care in the world.
God, I'd fucking kill for a cigarette.
When they're not scrutinizing me, the Volturi are eyeing up the half-breed kid, who's cowering between her mother and one of the wolf-men. I'd very much like to cower, myself. However, I can't even find the energy for that. Esme keeps patting my hand, but, at this point I think it's just to soothe herself.
I didn't expect Aro's decision-making process to take so long. After an hour has passed, even the disciplined Volturi guard are looking restless. The titan vampire rolls his head around as if his neck is aching, and the girl with the dyed hair sighs and whips out a pristine iPhone, ignoring the glares of some of her fellow guard members with a careless flick of her finger.
She tucks it into her pocket pretty freaking fast when Aro finally glides back through the door. Jane and Chelsea follow close behind, both of their faces as impassive as when they left. This does nothing to reassure me. Is a teensy hint towards my potentially bloody future too much to ask? I examine Carlisle and Eleazar's faces as thoroughly as I can when they step through, but in my state I can't decipher if they look relieved or defeated.
"Well," Aro says, his voice bright again. "That was an interesting debate."
When he meets my eyes, my heart thunders, echoing in my head until my brain is throbbing.
"Veronica," he finally says.
My inhalation is shaky, but I manage to breathe out an almost soundless "yes?"
Aro smiles at me. "If you have anything you wish to keep with you, I suggest you pack it. The fates have been kind to you, my child. As it so happens, we have a position to fill. You'll be coming with us."
So…er, yeah. That's it. I think I might continue this, but as a little side project, something to use as a punching bag whenever I need to kick writer's block. That is, if anyone thinks it's worth reading. If I do continue it there will be smut, violence, bloodplay, mentions of child abuse and drug and alcohol use.