Aphelion A Twilight Fan Fiction Novel: Book Two

by Chris Ryan Clark

Grant Willoughby's story continues in the vampire-rich Havana of the 1950's, as he works to evade the watchful eye of the Volturi and reconnect with the family he left behind-all with the help of a few new friends, including a member of the Cullen family.

PREFACE

AS SOON AS I STEPPED OUT OF THE WATER, I KNEW SOMETHING

was off. There was a strange smell in the air – nothing human, nothing natural. It almost smelled like... a vampire. A few steps closer, and I was certain – it was a vampire I was smelling. I walked a little closer to the house, and froze, as shivers ran down my spine like icy lightening.

The back door to my house was open – broken. The wind gently blew the upstairs screen door open and shut, as random papers fluttered across the sandy yard below. I had seen this picture before; this type of scene was all too familiar to someone in the assassin business.

Someone was looking for me.

1. PERSPECTIVE

- - - CORALINE GRAY - - -

THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. MY HEART HAD STOPPED
beating years ago, turning to stone with the rest of me - immortal, indestructible. I remember the searing pain of the transformation, surging through my veins like fire. I remember the darkness, the heaviness, the indescribable agony of my heart's last beat. That was supposed to be the end - a heart isn't supposed to feel if it's dead. And yet, in the wake of one disastrous day, I was drowning in an ocean of feelings.

I had been through loss like this before – I was no stranger to heartache, to losing the ones near to me. Time after time, I picked up the pieces of my broken heart, stitching it back together in increasingly complicated emotional surgeries. I had been able to heal before, but this was different. The pillars of my world had been kicked over, shattering my crippled heart into a million pieces.
There was nothing left to repair. I had nothing.
It was the final blow, the mortal wound. It was the end of whatever life remained in my granite shell. I rested my head against the heavily tinted glass of the back seat window, staring blankly at the passing terrain as the automobile carried me over the Alps to my new home. The luxurious passenger car was more like a hearse today, transporting lifeless bodies to their final resting place. I looked over at my sister, huddled in a ball, speechless, before returning my gaze to the snow-capped mountains outside. Harriet's pain was even greater than mine, if such a thing were possible. My eyes unfocused as my mind began to wander, replaying the last twenty-four hours like a torturous film roll.
How did this happen? How did things go so wrong?

I remember the breaking point. It all happened so fast – one second I was hand in hand with my life's great love, the next I was spinning wildly, knocked out of orbit by forces beyond my control.

I lost him.

I could still feel the heat of those last three words, searing an indelible mark on my heart and mind like a tattoo. Painful. Permanent. Beautiful.

"I love you."

He wasn't the first one to tell me that. He was the first one that meant it. Even now, the sentiment makes me weak in the knees and bold enough to scale mountains, perfectly accepted and woefully insecure, giddy enough to sing and sad enough to cry. Are those the last words I'll ever hear him say? The words I couldn't bring myself to respond to... the words I couldn't bring myself to say to him... Despite all my doubting, all my misconceptions, fate proved me wrong. There actually was a man who knew me in my weakness, who saw behind the curtain, all the best and the worst of me, and he loved me. No expectations, no angles, no strings attached. He loved me for me.

And I lost him.

It all happened so fast – the blur of bodies came soaring overhead, rumbling like thunder. The Greeks and Icelanders didn't even care about us – all they really wanted was to kill each other. We just had the misfortune of being caught in the middle.

We were trying to run away when something – someone – hit me, taking me to the ground with them. Grant was there for me, just as he had been for the last fourteen months. Faithful to a fault. He pulled the attacker off, but there were just too many others around. Some other confused vampire started attacking me – he was a lot stronger than I was. I took a defensive approach, just trying to keep my limbs attached and get out of the middle of this pointless feud.

The fighting took me in the wrong direction, and I lost sight of Grant as he struggled with his own misguided attacker. Normally, my lack of size and experience should have guaranteed my huge Greek opponent an easy victory, but not this time. I had so much to live for – dying was not an option. I fended off attack after attack, looking out for Grant with every spare moment. There was no hope of locating him – it was mass chaos.

I finally took things into my own hands and lashed out at the lumbering vampire battling me. He was no match for my fury. My teeth laid stripes across his body like a cat of nine tails, and once he was weak and off-guard, I went in for the kill, snapping his neck with a scream I had no idea I was capable of. No one was keeping me from Grant today. No one.

At least that's what I thought.

With my opponent crippled and incapacitated, I started looking frantically for my one love, praying to any "higher power" that might be listening to keep him alive. I scanned the grappling bodies with more fear than hope, as the weight of uncertainty grew heavier in the pit of my stomach. And finally, thanks to whoever listened to my blanket prayer, I saw him, searching for me on the other side of the battlefield. Our eyes met for one beautiful split-second, sending relief shooting through my body like a bolt of lightning.

He was alive.

No sooner had I seen him than he looked away, his eyes drawing mine with them. There, coming swiftly over the ridge, was our salvation. Philippe was here with all his soldiers. And Harriet. I began to make my way through the flaming tents and bodies of the camp toward the rescuers, certain I would meet up with my man and escape this hellish scene with my family intact. And to think... it was that close to happening.

All six of Philippe's robed guards swept over the battlefield like a swarm of locusts, annihilating everything in their path as I ran faster and faster toward safety. The vampire assassins ran right by me – Philippe must have told them to leave me out of this. I felt a hint of relief as they passed me. As long as Philippe was in charge, I would be safe.

As soon as I cleared the camp, I ran straight for Harriet, who was scanning the war scene intently, looking for Wesley. Before I could reach the top of the ridge, Philippe stepped down to stop me, grabbing my shoulder firmly and speaking in a low-but-urgent tone.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. It's alright."

He turned to look over his shoulder as a familiar black Bentley came to a screeching halt just thirty feet from us.

"Get in the car, Coraline." He seemed very intense...and worried.

"What? Why?"

"I don't have time to explain," he retorted in frustration, "just get in. Now!" He snapped his fingers, and two more large robed figures emerged from the car and grabbed me, one on each side.
"Wait, there's still... Philippe! There are still people in there..." I tried to get his attention, but he was caught up with something in the distance to the south.

"Philippe! Listen, there's somebody else in there that -"

He was completely ignoring me. He turned to the two vampires holding me, his face even more concerned.

"Get them out of here now."

The brutes obeyed, dragging me forcefully into the back seat of the car with Harriet and slamming the door shut. The car peeled out as it started racing up the hill, taking us back to the north. Panic set in as I realized what was happening. They're taking us away... Grant! We can't leave him! Philippe doesn't know he's on our side...

"Hey! You have to stop the car and go back there. There's someone else we need to save." I shouted my orders to the driver as we continued to climb the gentle slope, weaving through the uneven terrain.

"I can't do that, Ms. Gray. I have direct orders to-"

"I don't care what your orders are. Take me back there now!"

He wasn't listening. Why is everyone ignoring me all of a sudden? Since diplomacy wasn't working, I decided to take a more direct approach. I reached for the door handle and swung the back door open, narrowly escaping the driver's grasp as I jumped out of the speeding vehicle. As soon I hit the ground, I started running back to the scene, desperate to get to Philippe before his little army ripped Grant apart with the rest of the "troublemakers." I cleared the ridge in a flash, bringing the flaming valley back into view.

There were three other robed figures in the picture now, a tall one in front and two shorter ones behind. Philippe was arguing with the taller one, who looked up to see me as I raced back to the battlefield. I came within twenty feet of them before the thugs from the car caught up with me, yanking me back. Philippe's face was incredulous. I struggled violently, biting the arm of one of the guards as I shouted at the top of my lungs.

"Stop! My friend is still in there! You have to stop..."

The tall vampire near Philippe rolled his eyes, turning his head slightly to address one of the shorter ones behind him.

"Alec..." he said with a hint of frustration. The one on his left stepped forward, and suddenly everything went black. I couldn't see or feel anything, I could only hear warbled sounds, murmurs, disjointed dialogues, coming and going.

"...Jean-Marc expressed concerns..."

"...I'm well capable... everything was under control..."

"...the three were very clear. Eliminate all..."

Eliminate all? Oh, no! Are they talking about... what about Grant? I struggled to come back to consciousness, trying to get someone's attention – anyone's attention.

Nothing came out.

It was like that nightmare where you try to scream, but your mouth won't work. After a moment of trying, I felt something heavy come over me, and the voices faded until there was nothing at all, only darkness.

My consciousness floated in the fog, unaware of anything but the passage of time. Whatever was happening to me, it was powerful. After some indeterminate amount of time, I began to hear the warbled voices again. There was some kind of commotion, several people talking at once. I struggled to make sense of anything, eventually honing in on Philippe's voice. He was arguing with someone else – a soft, low-pitched voice with a thick African accent. Mbete?

"...what do you mean, 'got away?'" Philippe was irate.

"A thousand apologies, captain," the African answered calmly, "he hid himself among the humans – his scent was well-covered. We cannot look for him there. However, all the others have been terminated."

"Are you certain there were no other mistakes?"

"Yes sir, the Frenchmen have assured me that all the other targets have been executed. This male was the only one to escape."

Executed? Oh, God! Grant, Wesley! Oh, please, no...

"Well, we'll just have to find this rogue. Did you recognize him? Was he a Greek or an Icelander?"

"I assumed him to be with the Greeks, since he was being pursued by Matthias Michelson. I did not recognize him, though, so I cannot be sure."

"Did you get a good look at him?"

"Good enough to find him again, sir."

"Sketch his face for me. Quickly."

The voices faded out again, though my hearing seemed to be intact. Someone was moving me. A different set of voices began talking as things got clearer in my head. Am I waking up?

"...Philippe thinks she knows something. Do you have the sketch?"

"...right here."

"Good. Alec, bring her out slowly. We need to keep her calm this time."

I gradually felt my senses returning to me – first smell, then sight, then touch. I looked around me rapidly, trying to understand what was going on.

I was inside a building I didn't recognize. It looked like a bedroom. There were three robed figures in the room with me – all males. One of them was sitting in a chair next to me. I realized I was laying down, and sat up slowly, moving to the edge of the small bed underneath me. The one in the chair spoke calmly as the other two moved forward slightly, ready to restrain me if I started to cause trouble again.

"Hello, Coraline, my name is Demetri. I'm sorry about the... unusual treatment you've been receiving – it's been a very complicated day. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

**Be very careful, Coraline. Don't tell him what he's looking for**

The voice in my head wasn't mine. I didn't know where it was coming from...

"Coraline? Can you hear me? I need to ask you a few questions..."

I stopped listening for the mysterious voice and shifted my attention to Demetri. "Sorry, I'm listening. What do you need to know?"

"As you may know, the Volturi sent me here to help Philippe put down this feud before it spiraled out of control. My official orders were to eliminate all of the vampires involved, including you and your sister. Philippe explained that you two weren't involved, so you're safe for the time being, but there was one combatant that got away. I was hoping you could help me identify him."

**Guard your expression. Be very careful**

"Okay. I'll do what I can..."

"While you were resisting earlier, you were saying something about someone else being caught up in the fight, someone that didn't belong there. You said his name over and over – 'Grant.'"

He handed me a slip of paper with a face sketched on it. It was Grant. "This is a drawing of the vampire that escaped. Do you recognize him? Is this your friend, Grant?"

I tried to suppress the flood of emotions that swept over me. Grant was alive.

Wesley was dead.

The forces were so strong, I thought they would rip me in two. I wanted to laugh and cry and sing and wail, but I couldn't do anything. I had to keep calm. I pushed the thoughts and emotions back, as I had done so many times before, and tried to think rationally. There was something off about this whole questioning – something about Demetri was raising red flags in my mind, and I needed to figure out why. I peered into him for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to trust the voice in my head. He was asking this out of duty, simply to follow orders. He was... he was trying to get information about Grant. He needed something to go on so he could track him down... and kill him. Oh, God, they want to kill him! Be calm, Coraline. Don't give it away. I put on my best poker face, and responded plainly.

"No, that's not him. This is one of the Greeks. My friend must be dead..."

"Alright, well, that makes my job a little easier. Thank you."

Whew. He bought it.

"I have to go take care of a few other things. This is Edgar," Demetri said, as one of the vampires behind him stepped forward and uncovered his head, "He's going to take you and your sister back to Volterra."

"Volterra? What? Why?"

"For questioning. Technically, you're still supposed to be terminated. Philippe is making a case for your exemption, but the three would like to question you in person."

Great. Could this day get any worse?

If there was one place I didn't want to go, it was Volterra. Demetri and the other vampire left the room as Edgar took my hand and helped me to my feet.

"We're going to need to leave soon, Ms. Gray. Harriet is already waiting for you in the car."

**Your friend is in real danger. Is there any way for us to warn him? Don't reply, just nod**

I looked at the large man and nodded my head slowly. So he was the mysterious voice... He handed me a piece of paper and a pen.

**Write down what we can do to help. Make it quick**

I scratched quickly on the paper and handed it to him.

Leave him a note.

He read it and then swallowed it.

**We need to move soon if we're going to get anything done. Philippe is becoming very impatient... I have a plan. Follow me, and speak as little as possible**

He led me out of the bedroom into a small living room where several robed vampires were discussing things.

"Excuse me, sir," he spoke to Demetri, who was questioning another one of the robed vampires, "Ms. Gray would like to pick up a few items of... sentimental value from her home before we take her to Volterra. She's very insistent. May I take her to get them quickly?"

"Fine, whatever you need to do," Demetri replied, his attention still on the vampire he had been questioning. "Make it quick, though."

Edgar and I stepped outside the house, which was on the outskirts of Malmedy, and began heading southwest. It was immensely cloudy – so much so that it seemed like the sun had disappeared completely. A tiny sliver of emotion crept through my defenses, nearly crippling me. Poor Harriet! No wonder it's so bleak-looking outside. I can't even imagine the grief she's feeling. To lose Wesley... she must be crushed. Oh, poor Harriet! I snapped to my senses after a brief moment, pushing the thoughts back into the periphery of my mind. You can't think about that right now, Coraline. Stay on task. The cloud cover actually came in handy, allowing us to move safely through town and into the forest on the other side. Edgar handed me a pad of paper and the pen I had used earlier.

"Whatever you do, Coraline, you need to do it quickly."

I scribbled a note onto the pad as we ran through the frozen woods to the rendezvous point, dropping it at the foot of the tree as I passed by. I had no way to know if Grant would even try to come back there, much less, if he would find it. At the time, though, it was the only play I had.

We hurried back to Malmedy, and Edgar ushered me into the back seat of the black Bentley once again. Harriet was inside, staring blankly at the seat-back in front of her. I wanted to say something to her, but I couldn't think of anything to say that would help at all, so I joined her in silence as the door shut and the motor roared to life.

There was no comfort to be had.

We were both alone – we had both lost our men, and we were heading to the worst place in the world to stand on trial for our lives. I sat back in the seat and closed my eyes, letting the suppressed emotions of the last few hours catch up to me.

And my heart began to break.

2. HAVANA

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

"EXCUSE ME...UM, DOES ANYONE HERE SPEAK ENGLISH?"

Twelve sets of eyes sized me up warily while twelve mouths remained closed.

"I'm looking for the, um... La Luna Diamente... anyone?"

"Americano..." One older gentleman mumbled to his neighbor before finally addressing me.

"No speak the English," he said in an irritated tone.

Terrific. Some help he is.

This was the fifth establishment I had tried, and still, no success. I was beginning to think Havana was largely overrated as a tourism location – at least, in the tourist-friendliness sector. I stepped back outside into the night with an exasperated sigh, making my way down the narrow roadway to the next potential location.

The persistent rainfall had been soaking me all night, not that it really made much of a difference. I had already been drenched in seawater from my transatlantic swim over the last four days. I couldn't even remember what "dry" felt like. Dryness, though, was the least of my worries. Just four days ago, I had been running for my life from a group of feuding vampires, escaping their grasp only to find myself running for my life from the international vampiric government-of-sorts. Running for my life was becoming a full-time job for me.

I pulled out the handwritten card that Wesley had given me right before I began running. The words on the card had turned to distorted ink blotches through the underwater journey. Fortunately, I had committed them to memory.

Hawkins. 'La Luna Diamente,' Havana. Ask for Emilio.

The only problem with my instructions was that they were a little... vague. Okay, a lot vague. I hadn't the foggiest idea of what or where 'La Luna Diamente' was, I didn't know my way around Havana at all, and I didn't speak any Spanish.

The odds weren't exactly in my favor.

What I did know was that until I could find this "Hawkins" character, I would be constantly looking over my shoulder, afraid that the Volturi were going to find me and kill me.

I lowered my head and made my way further down the street, looking for another bar or nightclub that was still open. It was nearing 2:00am – my options were getting thin. On and on the narrow, winding road twisted, lined with weathered brick facades and balconies four stories tall. It was like a never-ending tunnel; dark, dilapidated, vacant. Not at all what I had envisioned.

After trudging another mile and a half through the dirty roadway, I found another light that was on. I stepped out of the rain into a small establishment that was nearly as dreary as the street outside. One lonely man sat at the bar, far too drunk to be of any help. I approached the bartender with my usual question, hoping he at least spoke enough English to point me in the right direction.

"Excuse me, sir, would you happen to know where I might be able to find 'La Luna Diamente' in town?"

I was already preparing to walk out the door when a wonderfully familiar sound came out of his mouth.

English.

"Do you mean, 'La Luna del Diamente,' the resort?"

"I'm not sure. I think so..."

"You are far on the wrong side of town, my friend. It's in the newer part of the city, near Centro Habana, right off of the waterfront."

Of course I'm looking on the wrong side of town. It couldn't just be easy. "How would I go about getting there from here?"

He proceeded to give me a long chain of streets and turns, which I fortunately had the capacity to remember verbatim, and I set out in the rain, one step closer to solving my little mini-mystery.

The difference between the "old city" and Centro Habana was night and day. Narrow, quiet streets were replaced by wide, brightly-lit thoroughfares filled with the sounds of night revelry. Clean white buildings dominated the landscape, many of which rose several stories into the sky. A conglomeration of jazz and latin music blurred together in my vampire ears as each club tried to drown out their neighbors. The smell of alcohol was strong in the air, as was the smell of human flesh. This was where the action was.

I followed the bartender's directions precisely, and found myself on a wide street, lined with high-rise casinos.

Surely this can't be right...

I walked down the busy avenue, scanning the dense signage for anything resembling 'La Luna Diamente,' keeping my hopes low. I had expected someone who excelled in hiding people to be in a place more hidden, but to my astonishment, the tallest, flashiest, noisiest building on the street was the one I was looking for. There, on a large, illuminated sign in vibrant colors were the words:

La Luna del Diamente

Club Nocturno y Casino

This must be the place... I stepped up to the large glass doors, unsure of how to continue. I know I'm supposed to ask for "Emilio," but who am I supposed to ask? A young man in a tuxedo opened one of the doors for me as I slowly stepped through, doing his best to keep an even expression on his face.

"Good evening, sir, welcome to the Diamond Moon. May I take your jacket?"

Wow. English. And a pretty good accent, too.

"No, thank you, I'll hang onto it."

I wandered in through a lobby that opened up into a grand ballroom, filled with heavily-populated gaming tables. The ceiling was high – at least forty feet – leaving room for an atrium with lush greenery, cascading fountains, and gold embellishments. Down on the floor, a constant roar of human voices droned like the sound of the ocean, as well-dressed tourists placed their bets and talked amongst themselves.

I soon realized I was dramatically under-dressed for the room. Many of the men wore tuxedos, the rest were in expensive-looking suits. Women were in evening gowns, with glittering jewels adorning their necks and wrists. This was a high-end establishment, to be sure.

Now, how would one go about finding 'Emilio?'

My wet shoes made an embarrassing 'squeaking' sound on the marble floor as I made my way through the cluster of roulette tables in the middle of the room to a large, glass elevator on the far wall. Next to it was a sign that had a listing of the various floors and their contents. I scanned it quickly, grateful that it happened to be bi-lingual, and decided to try the second-floor restaurant and bar – I seemed to be having luck with bartenders that night. I stepped into the oversized elevator, ascending to the "second" floor, which was actually about forty feet above the first one, and stepped into another luxurious room.

This time the overwhelming decorative element was wood. Classical oil paintings adorned the burgundy chair-rail walls that lined the room, sandwiched by an expansive hardwood floor and ceiling. The tables that filled this room were all for eating – countless round tables and booths with crisp, white tablecloths that extended nearly to the floor. The room was mostly empty, save for about a dozen people that sat around the large, well-stocked bar on the far left side of the room. Since there was no maitre d' on duty, I made my way over to join them and inquire about this mysterious "Emilio."

As soon as the bartender was finished tending to his other patrons, I called him over to a relatively unoccupied section of the solid-wood bar, leaning in slightly and speaking softly enough to avoid being overheard.

"Do you speak English?"

"Yes sir," He replied with a polite smile, "what can I get for you?"

"Actually, I was hoping you could help me find someone. I'm here to see Emilio. Would you happen to know where I could find him?"

The middle-aged gentleman narrowed his eyes, looking me over briefly before responding. "Wait here one moment..."

He picked up a telephone on the other side of the bar and called someone, speaking entirely in Spanish to the person on the other line. Two or three minutes later, a well-dressed man in his forties showed up, walking across the large wooden floor of the restaurant at a brisk pace. The bartender spoke to the man briefly in Spanish, mentioning "Emilio" somewhere in the jumble of words. The man reached out his hand to shake mine, a welcoming smile arcing across his face.

"Welcome to the Diamond Moon," he said with a much thicker accent than the other employees. "My name is Alberto Anselmo, and I am the... how do you say it... owner of the club. Juan-Marco tells me you are looking for Emilio..."

"Yes, that's correct. Is he here?"

"He is. Are you here to make a delivery to him? If so, I would be happy to receive it for him."

"No, no delivery. I just came to pay him a visit."

"Very well. Allow me to escort you to him."

The short man turned and began walking back to the elevator, swinging his ornamental jeweled cane as he went.

"I take it this is your first time here," he said as we stepped into the large glass chamber.

"Yes, it's actually my first time to Cuba."

"How wonderful! I hope you are enjoying our island country so far. Emilio is here most every night – the next time you are here to see him, talk to one of the hosts in the entryway, and they will bring you to him. We are always happy to assist guests of your... stature." He smiled again as he pulled a long, slender key from his pocket and inserted it into the control panel of the elevator, causing the small red light atop the floor-selection buttons to turn to a soft blue color. He turned the key, and pressed an un-marked button at the top of the panel, sending the elevator into motion.

We swiftly climbed past the remainder of the building's floors, coming to a gradual stop at the fifty-first floor. Once we had cleared the restaurant's floor, the elevator shaft was on the exterior of the building, treating its passengers to an impressive view of the illuminated city below. In the distance, I could see the waves of the Caribbean Sea gently lapping against the shore.

Now, this is the Havana I was expecting...

Roberto turned and extended his arm toward the opening door.

"This is the Diamond Lounge, our most exclusive accommodations for our honored guests – Emilio should be waiting for you here. Please feel free to stay as long as you would like to. When you are ready to leave, the elevator will take you back down to the floor level without the need for a key. Have a pleasant evening."

As soon as I stepped into the Diamond Lounge, I understood why it was so exclusive. There were no fewer than fifteen vampires scattered about the large room, engaged in a variety of activities, from billiards to cards to casual talking.

This was definitely the place.

The large, top-floor room was dominated by glass and crystal, with the majority of walls comprised of eight-foot-tall windows. The ceiling, which was almost entirely glass, rose diagonally from the top of the walls to a pyramid-like apex about thirty feet above the center of the room. Situated directly under the high-point of the ceiling was a black-marble dance floor with a large, white-marble moon inlay, which was trimmed in a highly reflective silver metal.

Situated to the left side of the circular dance floor was a curved bar made out of solid granite. The natural color of the stone was black with tiny reflective white specks that resembled a clear night sky. Crystal inlays wove through the black surface like calligraphy, allowing the back-lighting behind the bar to emit a subtle blue hue. There was minimal lighting in the room, leaving the spectrum of evening colors supplied by the moonlight intact.

Soft jazz music was playing in the background as I meandered through the room, looking for someone who might be able to help me find this "Emilio" character. Before I could make it across the room, a young man approached me, hand outstretched. He was definitely a vampire - about 5'6" with short, dark brown hair. From the looks of it, he was quite young, no more than sixteen years old. He spoke in a high-timbred voice, seeming a slight bit nervous.

"Hello, I'm… um... Emilio. I heard you were looking for me..."

Well, that was easy.

"Yes, I've been searching all over town for you. I need to find someone by the name of 'Hawkins.' It's a rather urgent matter, actually…"

The young man smiled, somewhat relieved. "Well, you came to the right place. Right this way..."

He led me through the middle of the room to the far corner, where glass walls sectioned off a smaller, octagonal portion of the room. There were four people in the smaller room when we entered. To my left, sitting in an oversized silver-colored chair was a strikingly attractive woman - a vampire to be sure. She was dressed in an outfit one would expect to see in a burlesque show - a highly-frilled, deep crimson corset, fishnet stockings and black, high-heeled shoes. Most of her curly brown hair was pulled up in an elaborate hairdo that left several strands to fall unevenly across her bare shoulders. Everything about her appearance screamed sensuality. She glanced up as I entered, her eyes roaming up and down my body slowly - it didn't take a special ability to determine what type of woman she was. I quickly looked in the other direction.

Across the room from the under-dressed woman was a tall young man, a vampire in his early twenties. He was dressed in a tan wool suit, complete with a gold pocketwatch and chain in his vest. He was clean-shaven, and his curly, honey-blonde hair was styled back, away from his face. He was reading a book when I entered, and never looked up to see me.

In the center, seated in a black leather chair, was yet another vampire - a male, frozen in his thirties. His dark, short hair was tussled somewhat, as if someone had been fooling around with it. He was wearing black slacks with a mild sheen to them, and his periwinkle silk shirt was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, which was completely shaven. Sitting in his lap was the fourth person in the room - an attractive young woman - a human. She was dressed in a green floral dress and her straight, black hair was a bit messy, like that of the vampire she was sitting on.

The man in the middle greeted me as I entered the room, speaking with a noticeable Scottish accent.

"Welcome, my friend," he said, as his fingers twirled casually through the hair of the young woman in his lap, "what can I do for you?"

"I'm here to speak with Hawkins."

"You are speaking to him, brother. The one and only. What is it that you want?"

"I'm a friend of Wesley Pemberton's... I need a place to lay low for a while."

The man rolled his eyes, retracting his fingers from the girl's hair and whispering something into her ear in Spanish. She looked at him with a teasing smile and got up to leave the room. Once she was far enough to be out of hearing range, He continued the conversation.

"What's your name, lad?"

"Grant Willoughby."

"Well, Grant, why don't you have a seat," the man said, motioning toward a chair to my left. I pulled it over and sat in it. He leaned in closer, speaking in a low tone.

"Now, what sort of trouble are in you in?"

"It's the Volturi. I got mixed up in a skirmish between some feuding vampires, and the Volturi somehow thought I was connected. I'm wanted dead or alive... but preferably dead."

"Well, that's some serious stew you're brewing in, brother. I'm not sure I wanna get in the middle of it. How do you know Wesley? Is he well?"

"He's well. Wesley and I have been in the same coven in Belgium for about a year. He's actually on the run, too, though everyone thinks he's dead. Do you know him well?"

"Oh yeah, Wesley and I go way back. I guess I do owe him one..." He paused, stroking his chin in thought. "Who exactly is after you? Is it a hunting party? Do they have Demetri on your trail? I'm just trying to figure out how high a priority you are."

"I know they have other concerns, but Wesley did mention Demetri. That's really why he sent me to you."

Hawkins' face creased in concern. "If Demetri's after you, that's gonna make things a lot more difficult. He's very good at what he does."

"Well, he is after me, but he's never seen me - he doesn't have my scent. All he has is a name, and probably a rough description from a few people who were chasing me."

"Hmm... that does give you a bit of a head-start..." Hawkins appealed to the vampires on his left and right. "What do you two say? It sounds messy..."

The male was the first to respond, speaking out in a low-pitched voice that had a distinctively "American" flavor to it.

"The Volturi wouldn't take it lightly if they knew we were harboring a fugitive. Of course, since Demetri doesn't have a lot to go on, he could have a hard time tracking this one, especially with our... unique help."

"That's not really an answer..." Hawkins was a little frustrated.

The female spoke up next, her smooth, sultry voice hinting at an accent I couldn't quite make out. "The Volturi would disapprove of just about everything we do here. I don't see why this should be any different. I say we help him out."

"Alright," Hawkins said, still weighing his options, "well, if there are no major objections, I guess we'll move forward." He turned his attention back to me. "Let's figure out what we need to do for you, friend. You said they know your name..."

"Yes. Well, at least I'm fairly certain that they do."

"Okay, that'll be the first thing to go. How about any contacts? Does anybody else know that you're here? Besides Wesley, of course..."

"No. No one else knows I'm here. In fact, the only two other people in the vampire community that know me at all are still in Europe, so..."

"Good. That'll be a bit easier. The only real problem I see here is Demetri. You see, he doesn't track with sight or scent, he tracks your mind – it's a kind of extra-sensory perception thing. Have you ever had any sort of encounter with him?"

"No. None at all."

"That'll help. He won't really know what to look for. Depending on how high-profile a target you are, I imagine they'll send hunting parties out to track you while Demetri gathers enough information to track you mentally. I'd say you've got a few weeks at least... up to a few months if they've got other things taking their attention."

"So, what happens when that time is up?"

"They'll track you down and kill you."

"Great. So I'm doomed..."

"No, no, friend, you would be doomed, but you came to the right place. We'll help you out." Hawkins smiled reassuringly as he motioned to Emilio, who was standing a few paces behind me. "Emilio here has a unique gift for hiding people. Wherever he goes, he makes everything... cloudy in the mental realm. He's sort of like the Bermuda Triangle of mind powers – anyone looking for you here will just see an indeterminate blur of consciousness around the whole area. As long as you're around him, you'll be invisible to the big shots in Volterra. Now, concerning your name, like I said, that'll have to go. We'll get a new identity for you – name, nationality, back-story – and all the paperwork to go along with it."

"That's fantastic! So, how long do I need to hide out before they'll stop looking for me?"

"Who knows? Ten years? Twenty? Again, it depends on how much they care about finding you. No offense, but I'm guessing you're not that high up on their list. With a little help, you should be fine. So, are you ready to get started?"

"What? Now? Um... I guess so..."

"There's no need to waste any time. I'll have my team get right to work – just hand over the green."

"I'm sorry, the what?"

"The green, friend. Dough? Cabbage? Benjamins?"

"You want cabbage?"

"Cash, brother. Cash money. This isn't a charity," he chuckled, extending an open hand, as if to receive my payment, "if you want the help, it'll cost you."

"Oh... Oh, I see. Well, how much money will you need?"

He leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin again. "Let's see... you're gonna need a new passport, birth certificate, back-story... and then there's the time around Emilio – I'd say for at least six months... Normally, something like that would cost a fortune, but since you're a friend of Wesley's, I'll cut you a special deal. Twenty thousand dollars American cash."

"Tw-twenty thousand dollars? Good lord, how rich do you think I am?"

"The question is, how desperate are you? I'm taking a big risk here, harboring a fugitive. You're gonna have to make it worth my while."

I took a mental inventory of the family's holdings in Switzerland. Twenty thousand would nearly clean me out, but I was fairly certain I could pull it together. Of course, afterwards I would have to go back to stealing for my livelihood, but there weren't any other real options at the time. With a reluctant sigh, I answered the money-hungry vampire.

"Okay, you have a deal. Twenty thousand American dollars for your help in hiding from the Volturi."

"Great. Well, let's have it."

"What? I don't... have it on me. I don't have any cash on me."

"Well, why don't you run and get some, and we'll continue talking when you get back."

"Alright... well, I'm sure the banks won't be opening for another... what time is it – Three thirty?... the banks won't be open for another five hours or so. Will you still be here?"

"Do you see this ceiling?" He replied with a smirk, glancing up at the glass panes above us, "this whole place closes before sunrise. Not to fear, though, I happen to know of a bank that's open right now as we speak. Go back to the street and go five buildings down to your right. There's a banker there that deals with a lot of my clients. Tell him you're with me, and that you need a fast withdrawal and transfer. Have him put the money into my account and you can just bring the transfer note back here instead of having to lug twenty thousand dollars around. How does that sound?"

"Great. That sounds great. I'll get going right away."

"Wonderful. Emilio, will you show our friend out?"

Emilio nodded and led me back through the busy lounge to the elevator, giving me a few brief instructions before I left.

"When you come back, just talk to one of the hosts at the front of the building in the silver jackets. They'll escort you back up here. You should probably hurry, we usually leave by five o'clock or so."

"Okay, thank you. I'll be back as soon as possible."

I took the elevator down and headed to the bank to sign away all my money. This had better work, I stewed as I walked the busy street alone, this had better not be some kind of scam.

Just as Hawkins had said, I found a bank five buildings down, and inside it, a teller that was more than happy to assist me in transferring the funds (with a 'nominal' transaction fee, of course).

By 4:15am, I was headed back to the Diamond Moon, transfer note in hand. The host at the front of the club took me up to the top floor just as promised, and I stepped into the Diamond Lounge again, ready to get on with this extensive cover-up.

There was only one problem – Hawkins was gone.

Actually, everyone was gone. The octagonal room I had been in less than an hour before was empty, with no sign of where anyone had gone.

I was furious. Furious, and panicked.

Good god, it was a scam. I can't believe I fell for something so easily... what am I supposed to do now? That was nearly all the money I had... I crumpled the transfer note in my hand, ready to punch a hole through the nearby glass wall, when a woman's voice disrupted my train of thought.

"Looking for Hawkins?"

It was the vampire woman who had been with him earlier.

"Yes, do you know where he went? I have his money..."

Please, let this not be a scam after all...

"He stepped out to... take care of some business," she said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, as if I was out of the loop on some inside joke, "I can help you with whatever you need. We haven't been formally introduced; I'm Persephone." She extended her hand, not in the form of a handshake, but as if I was expected to take it and kiss it. I decided to meet her halfway and simply hold it momentarily.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Grant."

"Not anymore, you're not. Until we get a new name for you, you don't exist."

"Great. That's reassuring..."

"Don't worry, we're going to take very good care of you. I promise." She took another step forward, making the distance between us uncomfortably close, considering the fact we had just met. "So, mystery man, you're here all alone. I take it you haven't settled in with a mate yet..."

"No. Well, actually, sort of... uhg, it's... complicated. She's... well, I'm on the run right now, and she's someplace safe."

I worked to fight back the flood of emotion that suddenly pressed against the gate of my consciousness. I had been trying very hard not to think about Coraline for the past several days. I couldn't allow myself any distractions – at least, not until I was safe.

For a brief moment, those painfully powerful memories flashed through my head like lightning – the first dance, the mountaintop, Harvey's wedding, the night under the tree, the battle at the prison camp – and then as swiftly as they came, they began fading. All my memories began fading, leaving me with a slightly disoriented sense of carefree lightness. It was strange, but I liked it. The scantily-clad vampire placed her hand on my arm, stroking it slightly.

"I just hate how complicated things can get sometimes, don't you?"

"Uh-huh..."

"There's no need to trouble yourself with all that right now. Why don't you take your mind off of those heavy things for a while and just enjoy today?"

Her proposal sounded surprisingly enticing – I did want to stop thinking about hurtful things, but I couldn't stop thinking about Coraline, no matter how hard I tried. Even if it hurt, I couldn't bear the thought of not carrying her with me in my mind. Fortunately, the young man who had been with the group earlier stepped in to disrupt the slightly uncomfortable situation.

"Alright, that's enough now. Leave the poor boy alone."

The sharpness of my memory returned swiftly, accompanied by a sudden feeling of repulsion toward the woman. She took a step back, an overly innocent look on her face.

"What? I was just welcoming our new friend to Havana. He seemed very lonely..."

"Honestly, Persephone, do you have to pounce on every man that walks through the door? It's a little embarrassing."

"No. I only pounce on the cute ones," she said with a wink.

If I had any stomach acids, they would have been thrust up into my mouth. Why am I feeling this way all of a sudden?

The young man shook my hand firmly, looking straight into my eyes with a confident, yet welcoming expression. "I'm Jasper, and this one..." he glanced over at the woman, "this one is trouble." He smirked as he delivered his last line.

The feeling of disgust for her faded slowly as I felt myself returning to an emotional equilibrium.

"You know, Jasper," she said in a somewhat scolding tone, "in some circles that would be considered rude."

"You were cheating," he said, his smirk now a full-blown smile, "I just evened up the odds."

"For your information, sir, I don't need to cheat to be enticing to the men around me. Just because you're denying yourself, it doesn't give you the right to stifle everyone else's happiness. Speaking of denying one's self – or, not denying, actually – have you heard from Hawkins?"

"Yeah, about that... it's... going to be a while. He wants us to take the new guy and meet up with him at the penthouse."

Persephone rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly. "Again? What is it this time?"

"Apparently, the young lady has a sister..."

"Ugh! He is unbelievable. A one-track mind..."

"Wait – weren't you just giving me the speech about stifling someone else's happiness?"

"Well, sometimes happiness needs to be stifled. Okay, fine. I guess we can go. You have the keys to the Cadillac, right?"

He shook his head slowly, a smile still on his face.

"He's making all four of us walk back? For a couple of humans? Ugh – pathetic. Next time I'm holding onto the keys."

"Why don't you run and grab Emilio, and we'll be on our way," he said, even keeled despite her disgust.

Jasper turned to me as Persephone walked off to fetch the last member of our group, shrugging his shoulders slightly with a slight eye roll. "Welcome to Havana."

3. DANNY WATSON

I FOLLOWED CLOSELY BEHIND MY NEW COMPANIONS AS WE made our way through the busy streets of Centro Habana, trying to move quickly enough to avoid being soaked by the rain that continued to fall. It was only a mile and a half to walk, but since we had to travel at 'human' speed, we were all sufficiently wet by the time we arrived at our destination. It was yet another white building, this one just a little shorter than the Diamond Moon.

A well-dressed bellhop greeted us at the front door as we walked in (well, three of us walked in. Persephone was closer to stomping), and offered some greeting in Spanish. Jasper returned the salutation as the rest of us shuffled past him and filed into one of the large, gold-colored elevators to our right. Once inside, Persephone pushed a button that sent us climbing to the top floor. I was beginning to notice a theme.

"So this penthouse, this is where you live?" I asked casually, more to break the silence than out of true curiosity.

"This is where Hawkins lives," Jasper answered, "we all have our own suite in the building."

"And yet, somehow Hawkins is the only one on the top floor," Persephone added with a hint of bitterness, "because, obviously, he's more important..."

"Don't mind her," Jasper said to me with a smirk, "she's just jealous."

"Jealous? Of what?" She interjected, taking offense to his jesting.

"I think you know..." he said in a teasing sort of way. The elevator came to a stop before the bantering could go on any further.

"Oh look," Emilio said in a smallish voice, obviously trying to change the subject. "We're here."

We stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor of the building. A long, wide hallway opened up in front of us, lined with plush, red carpet that felt wonderfully soft beneath our feet. A series of ornate brass light fixtures illuminated the passageway, providing a soft amber glow as we traveled down it. There were only two doors in the hallway; we took the one to the right.

"Are there only two rooms on this floor?" I asked, again trying to make conversation.

"Yeah," Jasper responded, "the entire top floor is divided into two luxury suites. Hawkins lives in the northern suite. The southern one belongs to the club owner."

"You mean Alberto?"

"Yeah. You know him?"

"I met him this... well I guess it wasn't really this evening... this morning, I suppose..."

We reached the door and entered into yet another extravagantly appointed room. The large living room of the loft apartment had a very 'wide-open' feel to it. Highly polished mahogany hardwood paneling covered the multi-level floor, which divided the room in curved sections differing in elevation by four inches or so. The walls were very simple – solid crème – and were decorated by modern artwork in various shapes and sizes.

To my right was a large billiards table with a cluster of unique-yet-coordinating lounge chairs spread around it. In the distance were three doors – most likely the bedrooms. To my immediate left was a huge black granite fireplace, above which hung an antique shield and a collection of medieval weaponry. Further back on the left was a large, open kitchen with a high table and chairs. Directly in front of me, across the span of the room, was a massive window, at least twenty feet wide, that reached from just above the floor all the way to the top of the fifteen-foot ceiling. The view from the 26th-floor loft was beautiful – nothing but clear, blue water stretching out as far as the eye could see. It was all rather impressive.

"Wow. Nice place..."

"Hawkins never does anything half-way," Jasper responded.

"Isn't it a little awkward, though, living across the hall from the club manager? I mean, doesn't it make it difficult to keep your cover?"

"Alberto knows."

"He knows? That you're vampires?"

"Well, he doesn't know all the details, but he knows that we're not exactly your typical humans. And he knows that we're unusually dangerous and well-connected. He keeps the Diamond Lounge off-limits to the general public – it's actually one of the top vampire gathering places in the western hemisphere."

"So when he saw me earlier... that's what he meant about being honored to have a guest of my 'stature'..."

"He runs a vampire-friendly business. We pay him very well to keep it that way."

"Wait a minute – if only vampires are allowed in the lounge... wasn't there a human girl there earlier?"

"It's off limits to the public. That doesn't mean we can't bring up guests."

"Oh, I see. And I take it that's where Hawkins is right now? With the human girl?"

"With two human girls," Persephone interjected.

Jasper continued. "Hawkins... enjoys the company of a mortal now and then."

"'Now and then?' Try every other night!" She said, interrupting again. Jasper smiled, turning to me.

"Persephone is the beneficiary of his... skills the rest of the time, which is why she's so up-in-arms about it."

Persephone sighed sharply. "Jasper, I told you, I am not jealous. I could care less what he does with those trashy Cuban girls. I'm just tired of him thinking of himself first all the time. This is a group made up of equal partners, after all. Next time, he needs to walk home in the rain."

"Like I said, jealousy," Jasper teased, winking at Persephone. "Now, why don't we go get those clothes dried off?"

I followed Jasper down a few stories to his apartment. It was much smaller than Hawkins' suite, but very nice nonetheless. After a brief tour, I changed into some of his clothing and waited while mine went through a cycle in his tumble dryer. He had some paperwork to tend to, which left me by myself for a while. It was the first time I had slowed down at all since I began running, and it didn't take long for my memories to catch up to me.

Something happened to me as I sat there, listening to the rhythmic sounds of the drying machine's motor spin my clothes dry. A deep, tangible emptiness opened up right in the middle of my chest – a dark hole where my heart was supposed to be. It wasn't a literal hole, of course. I wished it had been – I could have more easily endured the pain it brought. Instead, I had a tremendous emptiness, a spinning gravitational monstrosity that swallowed up every ounce of peace and happiness in me, leaving me with a mind, but no heart. The reason was simple – my heart was still in Belgium, with the woman I had given it to. Coraline's face appeared in my mind as the hole widened, and for a moment, a smile broke through to my face. She was so beautiful... so genuine, intelligent, caring, fun, witty... everything I could ever want.

She was everything.

I lost everything.

The full scope of this fact was still somehow eluding me. It was like a tree trunk so huge I couldn't wrap my mental arms around it. I knew the truth in my conscious mind – Coraline was gone, possibly forever, forced into a place and a life that she hated. I could never follow her there, because the greatest trackers in existence were hunting me down to kill me. In all likelihood, I would never see her beautiful face again, never hear her honey-sweet voice, never feel her silken marble perfection.

I was as good as dead to her.

I knew that; I could think through the entire progression, and yet, somehow, my subconscious mind still couldn't come to grips with it. Of course, there was a part of me that didn't want to come to grips with it. The pain was bad enough as a nebulous empty feeling. I wasn't sure I could bear the full weight of losing the only woman I had ever – or, most likely would ever love. For now, the pain was tolerable. It wasn't the sharp, stinging kind, the kind that doubles you over in intensity. No, this was a far more subtle type of pain. A dull ache – persistent, inescapable, like the general sense of fatigue and soreness that used to accompany a high fever. It was the sort of hurt one could live with, learn to ignore for the most part – the key was to stay distracted with something else.

I had been medicating the bulk of my hurtful feelings with running and focus and urgency, but in the back of my mind, I knew such a defense would only last for so long. The void in my heart plagued me like a sunburn – an ever-present ache that was bearable, with the constant danger of an excruciating flare-up if something was rubbed the wrong way. I could sense one of those flare-ups beginning to sweep over me as I sat in silence, and it probably would have utterly incapacitated me, had it not been for Jasper's timely interruption.

"Hey, is... everything alright in here?"

I turned in his direction with a quizzical look, trying to figure out what in the world he was talking about.

"Um... yes, I'm just waiting for the clothes to finish drying..."

I began to feel the strangest sensation as I answered his question. A placid, gentle calm descended on me like warm honey – thick and sweet. Suddenly, everything didn't seem quite so bad; the world didn't look so dreary, my future didn't seem so bleak. It was a wonderfully pleasant surprise. Jasper continued talking as I marveled at this sudden change in emotion.

"Sorry to bother you, I was just sensing an awful lot of strong feelings going on – some pretty hurtful ones. I just came to see if I could help."

"You can... you can sense that?" I've been trying to keep a straight face around everybody; maybe I wasn't doing as good a job as I thought.

"It's an ability of mine... I have a sort of connection with people's moods. I can sense them and influence them. At least, most of the time I can..."

So that's what's going on... "Wow, that's handy."

"I hope you don't mind my interference..."

"No, not at all. It's actually quite relieving."

"Feeling the stress of being on the run? It gets easier..."

I debated internally whether or not I should divulge the details of my situation to this person I had just met. Would he even care? Of course, if he's going to be helping me to hide, maybe it's best that he has as much information as possible. If only I could read his character... ah, Coraline! If only she were here... My mood sank again as my train of thought swung back to Coraline, and I sensed the calming influence on me intensify shortly thereafter. He's going to figure it out eventually; I might as well tell him and keep things in the open.

"It's not the running, exactly... it's... a romance problem."

"Oh, I see. A lost partner?"

"In a way, yes. Her name is Coraline. I've never loved anyone that way before – it's like a part of me is dead without her. A big part. We were separated when this whole mess with the Volturi happened, and I'm not sure that I'll ever see her again."

"Well, I can't say I can relate to that, but I can certainly understand how difficult it must be to go through. I'll do what I can to lighten the load for you."

"Oh, you don't have to trouble yourself with that. It's my cross to bear..."

"Nonsense. It's no trouble. I'd actually rather have people around me in a good mood – it makes my life a little more enjoyable. And just a fair warning – I have been known to exercise my influence to mess with people from time to time. But, of course, you already know that..."

"I already... wait – earlier, when Persephone was...er, talking to me... that was you?"

"Like I said, she was cheating. I just evened up the odds a bit. Besides, her pride could use a little deflating. I hope I didn't overdo it on the feelings of repulsion..."

"No, it was fine. So, what do you mean she was 'cheating?' Does she have a special ability too?"

"Yeah, we all do – the four of us, that is. That's how Hawkins runs things – he only surrounds himself with gifted people."

"So, then, what can the other three of you do?"

"Well, you already know about Emilio. He's sort of like mental camouflage. Believe it or not, we try to keep a low profile outside of Havana. Emilio is the guy that makes that happen. Persephone's ability has to do with someone's memory. I take it you were just talking to her, when all of a sudden you sort of forgot all your worries and felt generally care-free ..."

"Yes. Exactly."

"That's one of her main plays – she uses it all the time. She can only suppress your memories for the short-term; she has to stay close by. What's much more useful is her ability to essentially erase most short-term memories."

"Erase? Completely?"

"Completely. It only works on things that are fresh on the mind though. Thirty, forty-five minutes at the most. It may not seem like a big time window, but you'd be surprised at how many times that has come in handy. She can be a bit of a Prima Donna, but she makes up for it with usefulness."

"So in theory, she could use her power to seduce me, have her way with me, then make me forget it ever happened?"

Jasper smirked. "Yeah, that's pretty much a regular routine for her. Don't worry, though, I've got your back. And besides that, it's not fool-proof; she's tried it on me several times – you won't do anything you don't want to do."

"Okay, so that's three of you. What can Hawkins do – read minds? Fire lightening bolts? Time-travel?"

Jasper chuckled. "No, it's nothing that impressive. Hawkins has a very keen awareness for what people want, and he's pretty good at giving it to them."

"That's it? I figured since he was sort of the front-man of the group..."

"That he would hold a more powerful ability?" He finished my sentence. "Yeah, I thought the same thing when I joined him. He's in charge because this is his business, and he's the best at it, even without his ability. Not to say that his skills aren't put to good use..."

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what does he use his ability for? I mean, I knew a girl once who could read character and motivation... I guess that's similar to what he does – weeding out the bad apples..."

Jasper smirked again. "No, Hawkins searches out the bad apples. He really only uses his power for one thing – making people happy."

"Making people happy?"

"Well, making ladies happy..."

"I'm not sure I'm following you..."

"You really want me to spell it out for you? He's very good at pleasing women in bed. Very... very good, it seems. He basically thinks of himself as a sex-god."

"Oh, wow. So his skill is love-making?"

"Well, at least that's how he would define it. It's really just one thing he can do with the ability. Don't discount it, though. You wouldn't believe the kinds of favors he gets out of the female community. Things are very loose around here – you'll figure that out soon enough."

"I think I'm getting the picture..."

"It's not just for pleasure – it also works out well for business."

"And what exactly is your business? I mean, besides harboring fugitives..."

"Well, it's a little complicated, but it mostly has to do with k-"

His sentence was cut off by the ringing of the telephone in the living room. Jasper walked in to answer the call and returned promptly.

"Hawkins is here. We should go up to the suite as soon as possible. Are your clothes dry yet?"

I opened up the machine to check on my outfit. "I think they're close enough..."

"Great. Well, get changed, and we'll head up there. And don't be nervous," he added, diagnosing my mood before even I could, "this'll be smooth and easy. You've got nothing to worry about."

I tried to push the anxiety to the background as I put on my slightly-damp suit, though I suspected I wouldn't have much success. I was already suppressing so many of the thoughts inside my head; I wasn't sure I had the mental strength to subdue any more.

Jasper and I took the elevator back up to the top floor without a word. I was too busy trying to rein in the bucking bronco of my emotional state to form any meaningful conversation. Jasper must have taken notice – by the time we had stepped into the elevator, I began feeling that calming sensation again. We reached the 26th floor and headed back down the large hallway, pausing right outside Hawkins' door.

"Honestly, you've got nothing to worry about," Jasper said reassuringly, "He may seem intimidating, but ninety percent of what you saw at the club was a show – standard procedure."

"And the other ten percent?"

"Whadda you expect?" He answered with a sly smile, "we're not saints..."

As soon as I stepped in the door, I was hit in the chest by a manila envelope, which I barely had the wherewithal to catch before it fell to the ground.

"Danny Watson," a deep voice said the moment the envelope reached me.

I turned in the direction of the voice to see Hawkins seated in one of the large lounge chairs near the billiards table, looking very much the same as he had the last time I had seen him, except for his hair, which was now neatly combed back.

"I'm sorry," I said, slightly confused, "did I miss something?"

"That's your new name," he said with an air of self-praising cockiness.

"You picked out a name for me? Already?"

"I told ya', brother, we'll take care of everything."

"What's this?" I asked, referring to the packet in my hands.

"A summary of your back-story. You are Daniel Penn Watson, a twenty-five year old real estate investor from Southampton. You came to Havana two weeks ago to look into some coastal property, and you're planning on staying for a few months investigating potential business deals."

"Okay..."

"You keep to yourself mostly, though you like to go out on the town in the evenings. You met Jasper when you moved into the apartment across the hall from his. That'll give you an excuse to stay close by so we can keep an eye on you."

"I have an apartment? Here?"

"Like I said, you live across the hall from Jasper. The previous resident just happened to pass away recently, and the apartment manager hates to have vacant units."

I cringed slightly when I thought of the cause of the previous tenant's death. Knowing vampires the way I did, it was pretty clear the timing wasn't coincidental.

"Wow, you don't waste any time, do you?"

"I'm a businessman, Danny, and this is my business. I don't like to waste time."

"Wait, Danny? Already? Isn't that just for use in public?"

"Your old name is dead, Danny. It doesn't exist anymore, understand? You'd better start getting used to the new 'you.'"

The 'new me.' So that's it, then... Grant Willoughby is dead, along with the life he had. Funny, I didn't think it would happen so fast...

Hawkins continued. "If you want us to help you, you're gonna have to do your part. There are several rules you need to follow. First, you'd better learn Spanish quickly – otherwise you'll stand out a little too much, even for a pasty rich British kid. Second, you need to stay within five miles of Emilio at all times. No exceptions. Centro Habana is your new home. Third, you stay indoors during the day, whether it's cloudy or not. Havana is full of vampires; the last thing we need is you getting careless on a cloudy day and bringing the Volturi down on us."

"What am I supposed to do all day?"

"Write a book. Take up a hobby. Read the newspaper. I don't really care what you do, as long as you stay inside, and follow the rules. And speaking of rules, the final rule is, never come to this room again. As soon as you step out this door, you don't know me, and I don't know you. Understand?"

"Well, I suppose..."

"We'll have all the legals finished up by the end of the day. I'll have Jasper deliver them to you. Don't lose them, especially the driver's license. It takes more time to replace them than to get them in the first place. The apartment's on us, but you'll need your own money for everything else."

"Oh, I still need to give you your bank note..."

"Don't worry about it. Manuel called me as soon as you authorized the transfer. You didn't think I'd go to all this trouble without my money, did you?"

"No, I guess not."

"We'll reevaluate everything in six months and see if we need to adjust our methods at all. In the mean time, you're free to do what you'd like. I'll have Jasper look in on you from time to time to be sure you have everything you need. You'll be in good hands, I assure you. Just don't break the rules. If you mess up, you're on your own, no refunds. Fair enough?"

"Yeah, fair enough." Great. No pressure...

"Alright. Well, if there are no further questions... I think we're done here. There's a key to your apartment in that folder you're holding."

I reached in and pulled out the brass key.

"1914 – that's my suite number?"

"You've got it, Sherlock. Now, off ya' go..."

"Oh, um... right. Well, thank you all for your help."

I turned and left the luxury suite, walking slowly down the hallway toward the elevator. The apartment key gleamed slightly as I turned it over in my hand. This is my new home... a new home for a new me. Ugh... I don't want a new me, at least, not the life that goes along with the new me. What am I supposed to do by myself with all the daylight hours every single day? A month of that, and I'll probably go mad and turn myself in to the Volturi so they can put me out of my misery. And if I can't find things to keep me busy... I'll go mad thinking about Coraline and Wes and Harriet and everything in my real life. Why? Why did everything have to get so royally messed up? Why can't life just go easy on me for once?

I lamented my fate all the way back to my new apartment, muttering to myself like a loon. I didn't really care what I may look like to anyone around me. No matter what Hawkins said, this was not my life. Grant Willoughby was not dead. Danny Watson was just a temporary cover until I could figure something else out. I just hoped I could work something out soon.

I slid the brass key into the lock and opened the door to suite 1914, not at all surprised to find it was already full of someone's personal belongings – the possessions of the previous tenant, whose life ended so I could have a place to hide. I took my time as I surveyed the upscale apartment and acquainted myself with my new living quarters. Whoever was here before me must have been very neat – there was not a single thing out of place.

Except for the kitchen table.

There, folded on the table was a white card with an ornate "F" on the front. I opened it up and read the note written inside.

Dear Mister Watson,

We are all so glad you have decided to stay with us during your visit to Cuba. As you requested, we have left the unit untouched. If there are any other special needs you may have during the course of your stay, please feel free to ask, and we will be happy to assist you.

Hoping you will enjoy your time with us,

-The Management Team,

Fortuna Luxury Apartments

My first official piece of correspondence as Danny Watson; the first of many, no doubt. I folded the card back and placed it in the trash can with a heavy, deliberate sigh.

And so it begins...

4. TRIAL

- - - CORALINE GRAY - - -

"WE HAVE ARRIVED AT OUR DESTINATION. PLEASE EXIT THE

vehicle to your left."

The car pulled to a gentle stop in the middle of a narrow alleyway, leaving just enough room to open the large rear door. I climbed out reluctantly, not really wanting to go one step closer to the Volturi and their controlling hands. Unfortunately, I didn't really have a choice. There were five other cloaked figures in the alley waiting patiently to escort me and my sister to the dark catacombs of the vampire authorities – a place we may never come out of alive.

My stomach turned as I thought of the bleak future that awaited me if I lived – I wasn't so sure it was the better of the two options. Apparently, Harriet wasn't so sure either – she was still in the car.

"Harriet? What are you doing? C'mon, we need to go."

I peeked my head in the car to see her still sitting there, staring straight ahead. Great, this isn't making things any easier. I reached in and placed my hands around her shoulders, speaking softly into her ear.

"I know this is hard, Hattie, I know. But right now, you have to keep moving, okay? We need to go with these people. Can you do that?"

She nodded her head minutely and climbed out of the car behind me. One of the cloaked vampires in the alley addressed us as soon as we were back on our feet.

"Ms. Gray, Ms. Blackburn, right this way, please."

He led us down the alley with the others as the cars drove off, never saying a word. The brick and plaster walls around us were ancient – some looked like they could crumble at any moment. This wasn't a new or highly-populated part of the town, to be sure. Not that I would know much about Volterra; I had never actually been there before.

We went down a path just wide enough to walk through, and followed it through a few more turns before the path ended at a square opening in the surrounding buildings, stretching about eight feet across. Once the whole group was in the small room-of-sorts, two of the large stone tiles in the street moved from below, and another cloaked figure came out from beneath them to greet us.

"Philippe, welcome back to Volterra. The Three are very eager to speak with you."

"I'm sure they are..." He responded with a hint of irritation.

The host smiled cordially and returned down the opening in the ground, asking us to follow him. Beneath the missing tiles was a stone staircase, descending deep into the ground underneath the surrounding buildings and eventually leading to a large, open chamber – a sewer, it seemed.

We walked a short distance through a large, damp tunnel before our host stooped down to push aside an iron grate in the floor. One by one, we dropped through the hole where the grate had been, landing in an even darker stone tunnel. This is where the Volturi live? Not much of a view... We kept walking through a series of stone tunnels, gradually descending deeper into the foundations of the city above. No one said a word for a while, walking in silence until Philippe turned to address me and Harriet.

"Alright, you two, listen closely," he said as he pulled us back behind the rest of the group, "it is very important that you do exactly as I say when we go before the Volturi." He motioned to the rest of the group to go on ahead of us so he could speak in private. "I know these people – I know how to deal with them, so let me do the talking. The less you two say, the better this will go. Now, Aro may ask to touch you so he can read your thoughts. If that happens, don't hesitate to comply with his request – it makes you seem guilty. Otherwise, we're going to selectively omit a few details to paint the events in a positive light for the three of us. There's nothing to worry about – I'm well capable of talking my way out of this, just keep your mouth shut and let me do the work. Understand?"

We both nodded our heads.

"Good. Now, come along, and try not to look too somber. You've just been rescued, remember?"

Try not to look to somber? Are you kidding? We're doing well to be standing.

I wanted to shoot a glare at Philippe, but he was already a few paces ahead of me. Figures. As usual, it's all about him. I reached over and grabbed Harriet's hand, squeezing it firmly in support. I knew I could get through this okay; she was the one I was worried about.

After a short walk with Harriet and Philippe, we came to an elevator, where yet another cloaked vampire waited for us. We stepped into the simple elevator and it took us even further underground. On the other end of the elevator, things began to look much... newer. The dark, moist ancient stone was replaced by beige-colored plaster walls, marble tile and lush carpeting. Large oil paintings decorated the walls. Golden candelabras mixed with ornate electrical lights to illuminate our path.

Whatever decorative flair they lacked in the upper levels they made up for in these luxurious hallways. We eventually came to a large, high-ceilinged chamber with tall, gold-covered doors at the end. Philippe stopped us again in the middle of the room, drawing in close to keep his whispered words private.

"Remember what I said – talk as little as possible, and try not to mention the one that got away."

A sudden, unexpected rush of emotion swept over me like a bucket of ice-water. The one that got away... how can I not think of him? Poor Grant! I hope he was able to get away from here... I hope he has a chance to live out his life in peace...

"Coraline? Hello? C'mon, they're waiting for us." Philippe's words pulled me back into the present, and I forced the thoughts of Grant far away from my consciousness. I didn't have the strength to deal with that kind of heart-wrenching pain at the moment.

Instead of the seemingly obvious golden doors, the three of us stepped through an unassuming wooden doorway to the side, entering a large, excessively ornate chamber. Three large, throne-like wooden chairs sat against the curved wall, each occupied by an ancient-looking vampire.

It was the Volturi.

There was already a small crowd in the room when we entered; Harriet and I shuffled toward the back of the group as the door was shut behind us. The vampire on the middle seat spoke up once we were all inside, his voice more young-sounding than you would expect, given his fragile-looking exterior.

"Ah, Philippe, welcome back. It's so good to see you again. Well, I suppose we have everyone here now, so let us begin." Philippe stepped forward to the front of the crowd, along with Demetri and two others I didn't recognize. The rest of the room took a step or two back, probably wanting to stay invisible like I did. Once Philippe and the others were in place, the center vampire continued.

"Gentlemen, if you please..."

Held out his hands, as Philippe and one other vampire walked up to him. They each held this center vampire's hand in turn, lingering there for several seconds before stepping back to their places.

"Thank you for obliging me," the center vampire said, once they were finished with the hand-holding. "Now, I would like to hear each of your explanations in turn. Philippe, let us begin with your side of the story."

"Well, Aro, it's actually a rather simple story – I'm afraid you've gone to a lot of trouble for a regular occurrence."

"My brothers and I will be the judge of that. Please – enlighten us..."

I could tell Philippe was a little irritated. "Very well," he began after exhaling slowly, "I'll start from the beginning. An acquaintance of mine came to visit me in Frankfurt last night, warning me about two groups of vampires that were threatening to start a large conflict in a public place."

"And who were these groups?" The seated vampire on the right asked.

"One of them was a group of Icelandic nomads associated with the Michelson brothers."

The white-haired vampire on the right raised his eyebrows. "I can only assume the conflict involved Hagar and his compatriots..."

"It did," Philippe answered. "The Michelsons had been following the human army from Germany, feeding off of them with regularity. Hagar and several other Greeks were in Belgium feeding off of the American soldiers there. I was told the Michelsons were aware of the proximity of the Greeks, and were planning to attack them at a prison camp in Belgium."

"At what time did you receive this warning?" The middle vampire, Aro, asked.

"I heard about the situation around 3:00am"

"Demetri informed us that the fighting began around 8:00am," the white-haired vampire on the right said plainly. "Why did it take you five hours to respond?"

"I had to secure enough help to ensure a victory," Philippe countered. "There were nearly twenty vampires involved in the fight. Even with the skills of my guard members, those were impossible odds. As soon as I heard the details of the situation, I contacted Jean-Marc and Terrence to ask for the assistance of their guards."

Aro looked at the two other vampires standing with Philippe and Demetri. "Can you two corroborate his story?"

"I heard from him around 3:30," one of them replied.

"I heard from him at about the same time," the other added.

"Alright," Aro continued, turning his attention back to Philippe, "you contacted your neighboring guard captains. What happened next?"

"I waited for the reinforcements to arrive at our rendezvous point south of Antwerp. Once everyone was together, we headed toward the point where we expected the two groups to begin fighting. The camp was already on fire by the time we arrived. Humans were everywhere. I sent the soldiers right to work, and in a matter of minutes they neutralized the combatants. We had everything in hand before Demetri and Alec arrived."

"And everything was cleaned up thoroughly?" Aro asked.

"Quite thoroughly. All the involved humans were disposed of in the fire, along with a few of the locals that wandered into the area to see what was happening. We crafted and disseminated a story blaming it on the human prison camp operators. As far as our intelligence operatives can assess, no one suspects anything out of the ordinary. Everything is clean."

Aro's face turned to a disappointed frown. "Philippe, my old friend, you did an excellent job taking care of the involved humans, but if everything is 'clean,' as you say, then why are these two young ladies here with us today?"

He raised his hand and gestured toward me and Harriet. A rush of fear surged through me – this wasn't going in a good direction. Aro continued.

"The three of us were very clear on our instruction. You were to terminate all of the involved parties, vampire and human alike. Did Jean-Marc's men not inform you of our directions?"

"They did inform me, however, I thought it best to-"

"You disobeyed a direct command," the white-haired one interrupted, his tone more cutting and aggressive than before. "You of all people should understand the value we place on loyalty."

Aro chimed in next. "Philippe, it disappoints me greatly that you chose to ignore our command. You do understand that this is not an easily forgiven transgression..."

"I do understand, Aro," Philippe answered, "but I can assure you, I have a valid explanation for my actions."

"I can tell you what his reason was, and it is most certainly not valid," the dark-haired vampire standing next to Philippe spoke up, cutting into the questioning out of turn.

"Wait your turn to speak, Jean-Marc," the white-haired vampire chided. Aro disagreed.

"No, Caius, we should let him bring up his point. You may proceed, Jean-Marc."

"I contacted the three of you, sirs, because of this very reason. Philippe spared the life of the two females because he is romantically involved with one of them. Just as I predicted, he was ill-suited to deal with the situation because of a conflict of interest."

This new speaker, Jean-Marc, was visibly upset. I could sense his dislike of Philippe. He was bringing an accusation out of envy – he wanted Philippe to be stripped of his responsibilities. Philippe responded in kind.

"That is an inaccurate and unfounded accusation," he said with a surprisingly calm tone. Given the situation, I would have expected him to be a slight bit tense, maybe even scared. Instead, he was cool and collected... confident, even. He was up to something – he was planning to turn this back on Jean-Marc, and he wanted more than the removal of responsibilities.

"Jean-Marc is making these claims out of personal envy and distrust," Philippe continued, "it is his motivation you should call into question. Marcus, your abilities give you insight into these matters. Surely you can see that I speak the truth."

The brown-haired vampire to the left, who hadn't spoken the entire time, leaned forward in his seat, peering at the entire crowd. Jean-Marc was stewing – nervous, most likely.

After a brief moment, the silent vampire, Marcus, spoke, mainly to the other two judges. "Jean-Marc feels a large degree of jealousy and contempt toward Philippe. Concerning the alleged romantic connection between Philippe and the female, it is transient and unrequited. I doubt it would be sufficient to sacrifice one's life for."

Jean-Marc interjected again, motivated now by fear and desperation. "Of course I feel ill-will toward Philippe. He has broken the law and is trying to blame me for it! Surely my lords can see this?"

"We see only the facts before us," Aro answered gravely, "and the facts we have seen lend credibility to Philippe's rendering of the story."

"Are you then ignoring the fact that he directly opposed your directions? And what about the fact that he arrived at the event much to late to prevent a large-scale massacre of humans and vampires, one that very nearly exposed us all? Even if I was motivated by my distaste of Philippe, it does not mean my insights were wrong."

Aro sat back slightly in his chair, thinking Jean-Marc's statement over. Philippe took the opportunity to continue arguing his case.

"My friends, if I may... I believe I can further explain the reasoning behind these two charges brought against me."

"Very well," Aro agreed. "Go ahead..."

Philippe was confident now, pleased with himself and the trap he was setting. I could feel his anticipation as he started speaking – this was right where he wanted things to go.

"The only reason I was late in arriving to the scene was because Jean-Marc delayed sending his reinforcements by two hours."

"You bastard!" Jean-Marc shouted, trying to restrain himself from ripping Philippe's head off. "You will not lay that blame on me!"

Two large vampires moved out of the crowd and stood in between Philippe and Jean-Marc to make sure things didn't get out of control.

"Easy, Jean-Marc. Let us conduct ourselves as civilized individuals," Aro scolded. "Philippe, please continue."

"I was ready to move out to the suspected battle scene by 5:00am. I had my guard members collected, as well as those from Terrence. We waited at the rendezvous point for nearly two hours for Jean-Marc's men to arrive, though Terrence's men came from much further away."

"I was waiting to hear back from the Volturi," Jean-Marc countered, "I was warning them about your inability to handle things."

"That's what he wants you to think, oh wise friends," Philippe said, his persuasive ability coming to full effect. "In reality, Jean-Marc sabotaged my efforts to control this situation in order to bring his prediction to reality. The Greeks, who were openly hostile toward the Michelson brothers, had been traveling through Jean-Marc's territory for months without my knowledge. Although Terrence had alerted all the European captains about the presence of the Michelsons, Jean-Marc knowingly concealed this information from the rest of us. One can only infer, based on his actions, that it was Jean-Marc's intention to allow the conflict to happen in my territory, setting me up for betrayal and failure."

"This is preposterous!" Jean-Marc shouted, desperate and panicked. "Surely you cannot believe this to be truth!"

"Is it true that you knew about Hagar's desire to fight the Michelson's?" Caius asked, accusation in his tone.

"Am I a mind-reader that I should know such things? I do not interrogate every vampire that enters my territory," Jean-Marc answered.

"Still," Caius countered, "you kept their presence hidden."

"I had no idea it was such a volatile situation. I had no way of knowing..."

Aro motioned to the other two judges. "Brothers, let us convene privately."

The three huddled around the center seat, interlocking their hands. After a short period, they all returned to their seats, and Aro pronounced their decision.

"Jean-Marc, we have found you guilty of conspiring to endanger the secrecy of our race, and of attempting to defame one of your fellow regional captains. You are hereby sentenced to death."

"What? No! Don't believe him!" Jean-Marc struggled through the two guard vampires to try to get to Philippe, but before he could lay a hand on his accuser, he fell to the ground with a shriek of pain. The two guards secured him and began to carry him out of the room.

"That's good enough, my dear," Aro said to a small vampire standing to the far left of the room, "Samuel and Renaldo can handle it from here."

The guards took him out of the room, shutting the door behind them. After a brief moment of awkward silence, Aro continued the questioning.

"Alright, well, now that the first of the charges against you has been taken care of, let us move to the second, more troubling one – that of your disobedience."

I cringed as the topic was brought back up. I had been hoping it would be dropped after the ordeal with Jean-Marc, but obviously the Volturi weren't going to let the issue go.

"As I said," Philippe began, "there is a perfectly valid explanation for my behavior. Your commandment was to terminate all the individuals involved. First of all, the younger one, Harriet, was the one who alerted me to the situation in the first place. She was no more 'involved' in the fight than I was. By definition, she shouldn't have been included in those terminated."

"Our orders were not open to interpretation," Caius chided, "you were to follow them explicitly. Besides, your excuse is only valid for the younger female. The older one should have been put down with the rest of the combatants."

I felt my knees weaken. They wanted me dead, and had the power to make that happen. I reached over and grabbed Harriet's hand one more time, hoping to offer some kind of support. I couldn't let on that I was this scared – I had to be strong... for her.

Philippe resumed his defense, determined to find a way to save our lives. "I'm not finished explaining, gentlemen. There was another reason I spared the lives of these two, one that I believe you will all come to thank me for."

Caius raised one eyebrow skeptically. Marcus continued to look indifferent. Aro seemed interested.

"Aro," he continued, "I know how fond you are of vampires with special abilities, and given the innocence of these two, I thought it would be a shame to destroy them when they have so much potential."

Aro was now keenly interested, and somewhat excited. It was good news – at least, I hoped it was; I was holding on to any shred of hope I could find. He stepped to the forefront of the questioning, eager to learn about our 'gifts.'

"I do enjoy finding new gifts," he said, with a tone much more jovial than before, "what can these young ladies do?"

Philippe smiled, though the tension never fully left his face. "The older one, Coraline, has a unique insight into the minds of others. She can sense the motives behind every word and action she sees, discerning someone's intent in ways that none of us ever could. It's a very practical gifting, to be sure. And the younger one... she possesses a gift of tremendous value to us all. She has a connection with the weather, allowing her to anticipate, and even influence it."

"What sort of influence?" Caius asked skeptically.

"Imagine cloud cover on demand, following you wherever you wanted to go, and only when you need it. Think of the freedom to walk among the humans at any hour of the day without the slightest fear of detection. It could open up entirely new avenues of interaction with the outside world..."

"The girl can really do all this?" Caius questioned with growing skepticism.

"Not yet. Her gift needs cultivation, but with a little time, I'm confident all this and more would be possible."

Aro was visibly enthusiastic. "This is very interesting news, indeed. A weather-changer? That would be quite useful..." He looked directly at Harriet, his milky eyes inspecting her with an eerie sort of admiration. "Harriet, my dear, come over here and let me see for myself if what your friend says is true."

Harriet stepped forward hesitantly, her hands visibly shaking in fear. She was terrified. So was I. If Aro didn't like what he saw, he would almost certainly put us both to death. I closed my eyes and bit my lip, trying to control my emotions as she walked to his wooden throne and placed her hand in his. He closed his eyes and let his face go completely blank as he searched through her memories. Every passing second was agonizing, like dangling from a cliff by one finger. Please, please let this work. She doesn't deserve to die...

After what felt like an eternity, he opened his eyes again, fixing them on Harriet.

"What an interesting talent you have, young Harriet," he said to her, still holding her hand, "thank you for sharing."

He released her hand and she slowly stepped backward, still quivering, until she reached my open arms.

"Good job," I whispered into her ear, "we have to be brave. It's gonna be alright."

"So you see what I was talking about..." Philippe questioned, addressing the three judges with an unusual amount of uncertainty in his actions, "she has real potential."

"Oh, yes. Most intriguing... so many possibilities. You were right to spare her life, my friend. I can see clearly that she had no part in the unfortunate events that took place yesterday. Caius, Marcus, I have seen this girl's thoughts, and I can say with certainty that she is innocent. In light of this innocence and her tremendous potential, I feel we should offer her pardon."

"If what Philippe claims is true, then it would be a shame to waste a talent like hers," Caius agreed. "I am willing to grant her clemency."

"Whatever seems best to you, Aro," Marcus complied.

"Wonderful. Thank you for explaining, Philippe."

"You're most welcome, Aro. I'm glad to be able to clear things up for you. Now, I don't want to be too forward, but what of the fate of the older one, Coraline?"

Caius looked at me with cold, searching eyes before answering Philippe's query. "Coraline Gray... I remember her."

"Ah, yes," Aro interjected, "she was one of Eliza's students. As I recall, her ability never manifested in any profound way..."

"We turned her loose after her initial screening," Caius said, finishing Aro's thought.

I felt myself starting to panic – his tone, his mood... he was dismissive. I was nothing to him; he was trying to move on and get the questioning over with. I closed my eyes and whispered a silent prayer to whatever higher power was out there. Please, not like this. I don't want to die like this...

"But she has grown so much in the last few years... developed her gifting. I can assure you, she's very useful..." Philippe was doing his best to persuade the Volturi to spare my life. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be enough.

"I am sorry, Philippe," Marcus spoke up, "I know she is meaningful to you, but she aligned herself, whether wittingly or not, with rebels and lawbreakers, and must therefore be punished."

"After all," Aro added, "if we cannot hold to the law, what good is our government? Justice must prevail. I am sorry, my friend."

Philippe was becoming desperate – it was obvious in his every word. "Then what is to become of her? Will you show no mercy?"

"The time for mercy has passed," Caius said coldly. "She will be executed immediately."

I closed my eyes harder, my body stiffening as I absorbed the shock of my sentence. I was going to die. Harriet would be left all alone. I would never see Grant again. Everything inside me went numb – I didn't want to feel anything anymore. Let it come quickly, I thought to myself, I can only clear my mind for so long.

My senses were in such shock that at first, I didn't notice the screaming girl clinging onto my body like a vice.

It didn't take long to come around.

I opened my eyes to see a mass of bodies swirling around, trying to pry Harriet off of me. Her arms were locked around my waist as she screamed frantically.

"No! You can't take her away from me, you murderers! You took Wesley already, you can't take her, too! You can't!"

In the spinning sea of faces, I caught Aro motioning again to the small vampire at the side of the room. In an instant, Harriet released me, her frantic screams becoming cries of pain as she fell, convulsing, to the floor. I had no idea what was happening to her, but I knew it was painful, and I knew it had to stop.

"What are you doing to her?" I shouted at Aro, now unafraid of his power over me. I was going to die either way – that much was certain – but I wasn't going to let them hurt my sister. "Stop it! Let her go!"

"Jane, dear," Aro said to the small vampire, "that is enough. I believe she has learned her lesson." He turned his attention to my sister, who was quivering on the ground. "My, Harriet, that was quite a display of emotion. I am sorry this is causing you such turmoil, but I am afraid it is necessary."

She said nothing as she lay at my feet, huddled in a ball. I instinctively knelt down beside her, partially to comfort her, and partially to protect her. If they were going to try anything again, they would have to come through me.

"Gentlemen, if I may..." Philippe pleaded, flustered but still formal. "Harriet lost her mate as an unfortunate casualty of yesterday's violence. He was mistaken as a combatant and killed. I'm sure all of you can appreciate the kind of emotional damage she has been exposed to, and though I wholly respect your previous judgment on Ms. Gray, I urge you to reconsider. The two girls think of themselves as sisters; Coraline is the only meaningful relationship Harriet has left. To rob her of her sister would emotionally destroy her. Marcus, surely you can relate to this..."

I looked at Marcus' face, which creased slightly in pain – the first real expression I had seen from him.

"You speak the truth, young friend. To lose one's mate is a difficult fate to bear. To lose one's sister as well... that would be a fatal blow." He turned to address the other two judges. "The bond between these two is quite strong, as strong as if they were blood sisters. I fear Harriet may be rendered useless if we take Coraline from her. Perhaps we should reconsider our judgment..."

"We all grieve for her loss," Caius responded, somewhat irritated, "but it should not have any impact on our judgment. Marcus, are you not still fully functional despite the loss of your mate? And Aro, are you not still living despite the death of your sister? Understand, brothers, I do not seek to make light of your suffering, but you of all people should know this is not a life-ending blow. She will get over it in time, just as you both have. We should stick to our previous judgment."

"Well," Aro said, seeming slightly amused, "it would appear we have something of a controversy to discuss. Brothers, let us talk in private once more..."

The three judges convened around Aro's seat once again, lingering there much longer than the last time. There was a silent hush in the room, either out of respect for the Volturi or out of shock, as was my case. I held Harriet in my arms, gently rocking back and forth, hoping desperately that Marcus was more persuasive than Caius. Harriet nuzzled her head into my chest, half-whispering in a broken voice.

"Coraline, I... I can't... I can't be strong anymore. I can't do this without you. Please, please, you can't die. I can't lose you too. I can't..."

"I know, Harriet. I'm still here."

My heart was tearing in two as I held her there, trying in vain to comfort her. Harriet was the only reason I really cared what the judges' verdict was. I would never see Grant again, never be truly complete again. Even if I lived, the controlled life that awaited me in Volterra was not much of a life at all. There was no reason for me to live other than Harriet, but as I cradled her head in my arms, that reason was more than enough. I wanted to live. I was desperate to live.

The Volturi finally finished their private discussion, and each returned to his seat before Aro passed down their verdict.

"Coraline, dear, please step forward."

I reluctantly released Harriet and walked to the front of the room, standing before the three wooden thrones.

"My brothers and I have discussed this matter at length, and we have come at last to a unanimous decision. For fifteen hundred years, the law has brought sanity to our chaotic world. It is what separates us from the savages and provides for our civilized way of life. The law is our true governing force, and therefore, it must be rigorously defended and upheld."

So, that's it. It's over. I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly, taking in my fate.

"However," He continued, flooding my body with a tangible hope, "the spirit of that law is to preserve and enhance the lives of our immortal brethren, not to end them. My brothers and I have agreed that in our effort to preserve order, we may have erred on the side of injustice. We have come to see that while you did not explicitly try to prevent the battle between the Michelson's and the Greeks, you did not in any way contribute to it, choosing instead to remain neutral. Actions of this nature, while not our preference, are nevertheless mild in the grand scope of the law, and are insufficient to warrant the penalty of death.

Therefore, we have ruled that your offenses shall be punished by fifty years of involuntary service in Volterra, after which your case will be reevaluated."

It was such an overwhelming relief that it took me a minute to wrap my head around it. "I... I'm going to live..."

"Yes, my dear. For a very long time, I hope."

"You will serve out the entirety of your sentence in Volterra," Caius added. "You will not be permitted to leave the catacombs except by our order, and under direct supervision. Any failure to follow your sentence will result in more stringent discipline."

"Yes, yes," Aro interrupted, rolling his eyes, "let's not scare the poor girl any further. Coraline, you may rejoin your...sister."

I stepped back to Harriet and embraced her, holding her tightly.

"I was so scared..." She whispered to me.

"I know," I replied, "so was I."

"Now," Aro continued, "we have one more order of business to see to before we adjourn. Demetri has informed us that one of the combatants escaped yesterday. What do we know about this individual, and what are we doing to apprehend him or her?"

My new-found sense of relief left me as quickly as it had come. They were talking about Grant. I wished in that moment for Philippe's mental ability to persuade them to forget about it. Instead, I had to watch and hope.

"Well," Philippe began, "we don't know very much about him, unfortunately. I sent Mbete after him, but the rebel was able to escape by hiding among the human soldiers in broad daylight."

"Is he Greek, or was he with the Michelson's?" Caius questioned.

"I'm not sure, although judging by his physical description, I would assume he is not from Iceland."

"And what is his description?" Aro asked.

"He's a young man – in his twenties or early thirties – about six feet tall with a medium build and short, brown hair. His facial features appeared to be of Western European descent – he's probably from England, France or Germany. Or, the Americas, I suppose."

"You have seen his face?"

"No, but Mbete has drawn a rather detailed rendering of it."

"How fortunate," Aro said, somewhat pleased at the news, "bring it to me – perhaps I would recognize him..."

Oh, no – Harriet! I gasped audibly as I realized what was about to happen. Aro had seen every thought Harriet had ever had – he would certainly recognize Grant from her memories. With the extra information, they would track down Grant and kill him, not to mention what they would do to us when they found out we were lying about him. I have to do something – I have to stop them. They can't see the pi-

"I'm terribly sorry, Aro... I didn't bring it with me."

Whew, that was close. Too close...

"Hmph," Aro responded as he shrugged his shoulders slightly, "well, I suppose it was a long shot anyway. Demetri, what will it take for you to track this rebel?"

"Honestly, I don't really know who I'm looking for at all. Perhaps if I had a name, or a general location... as it stands now, I have no way of discerning his mind from any of the countless others scattered across the globe. I need more information."

"Well, we shall have to get you some," Aro replied. "Philippe, this was your responsibility to clean up, so I expect you to finish the job. As long as this rogue is roaming around, our secret will be in danger. You have performed your duties superbly up to this point– bring back the ashes of this one last vampire, and we will see to it that your leadership skills are put to more substantial use. In the mean time, you will be in charge of Jean-Marc's territory as well as your own. We will supply you with a few extra guard members to help things run smoothly."

"Very well," Philippe answered, bowing his head slightly, "I will do my best to put an end to this threat. Is there anything else you wish to speak with me about?"

"No, that will be all. You may leave now."

Philippe left the chamber quietly, followed by Mbete and the Mongolian. Our eyes met briefly as he walked by, and I mouthed the words "thank you" to him. As much of a self-absorbed snob as he was, I still owed my life to him – for the second time now.

Aro turned his attention back to me and Harriet. "Coraline, Harriet, dear friends, I am so very pleased that we found a way to work things out and keep the two of you around. I feel your time here in Volterra will be quite beneficial to you, and to us as well. Now, I know that you have been through a lot in the last few days, and I want to make this transition as effortless as possible." He motioned to one of the cloaked vampires in the crowded room – a female. "This is Chelsea," he explained as she stepped forward. "She will show you to your new living space and help you become acclimated to our way of life here. If you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to ask her."

"Follow me," Chelsea said to us with a smile as she moved toward the door. We followed her back into the grand hallway, as a new wave of relief washed over me.

We were safe.

Chelsea looked back at us, her warm face radiating hospitality. "Don't worry," she said, "Volterra can be a little intimidating at first, but after a while, it'll feel just like home."

Just like home, I mused cynically as we followed her across the hallway and into even more sprawling catacombs, home for the next fifty years.

5. AN OFFER

- - - DANNY WATSON - - -

IT'S AMAZING HOW FAR ONE'S MIND CAN WANDER WHEN THERE'S nothing occupying it.

I spent the better part of the morning staring blankly at my apartment walls, my mind playing back memories like an all-night cinema. I saw all sorts of mental films – comedy, tragedy, action, romance, horror, suspense – everything that my post-mortal life had amounted to up to this point. Sure, there were some low points (quite a few low points, actually), but the bulk of my memories were positive ones – happy ones.

At least, they should have been happy.

The problem with these recollections was that every happy memory of my vampire-life included Coraline in some way, which turned them from "happy" memories to depressing, stinging, wistful ones. I had no escape.

Around noon, I tried a change of scenery (as much of a change as could be had in a one-bedroom loft apartment), enjoying the luxuriously appointed shower as waves of warm water washed over me. I sat in the oversized, marble-tiled shower until the hot water ran out (and about an hour after), trying futilely to think of anything but Coraline. The thoughts were colder than the water – and more abundant. It was no use, I was doomed to wallow in emptiness, trapped in this mental purgatory for the foreseeable future.

By two o'clock, I was beginning to lose all hope of retaining any mental soundness when a knock on the door brought me, at least temporarily, out of my stupor. I opened the door to see Jasper, his arms weighed down with a stack of textbooks.

"Hi, Danny. Mind if I come in?"

Danny. I already loathed that name and all it represented.

"Sure," I replied as 'normally' as possible, not wanting to seem as much of an emotional wreck as I was.

Jasper didn't buy the disguise.

"Still taking things pretty hard, huh?" He said as he walked into my prison cell, his mouth smiling but his eyes creased slightly in concern. I could feel the warm, relieving numbness come over me again, lifting the emotional weight that had been crushing me like an elephant on my chest.

"I'm going to lose my mind," I replied honestly, deciding to just be open with him.

"I know it may seem that way right now, but you won't – it'll get better. Here, I brought something to help take your mind off of it."

He handed me the stack of textbooks while he explained what they were.

"These should give you something to occupy your time for a while. Like Hawkins said, you need to learn to speak Spanish, and these are the books I used when I learned. It's everything from beginner-level phrases to advanced grammar and rhetoric. By the time you finish these, you'll be able to write a dissertation on the language."

"Thanks," I replied as I placed the books on the coffee table behind me. "I really needed something to do in here. How do you manage this all day?"

"Oh, you find ways to fill it. Don't worry, it'll get easier."

"When does it get dark around here? I'm dying to get out of this room..."

"We usually wait until about six o'clock before we go outdoors, just to be safe. Anytime after that should be fine. Just, you know, don't stray too far away."

"Within five miles of Emilio, right? Do I need to follow him?"

"No, he's almost always at the Diamond Moon. If that ever changes, we'll be sure to let you know. And... don't tell Hawkins this, but I think you'll be alright wandering more than five miles away. We have pretty much free reign anywhere in Havana without any trouble. If you stay in the city, I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Well, that's good to know."

"You should come over to the club for a while tonight – shoot some pool, meet new people, get your mind occupied."

"Yeah, that sounds good. I'll probably do that. In the meantime, I guess I'd better start studying..."

"It's not a bad idea. The sooner you can speak the language, the better."

"Thanks for the distraction, Jasper. And for the... whatever it is that you do with my feelings..."

"Don't mention it. I only wish someone had helped me out when I got here. And listen, speaking of helping out... I know a lot about grief and depression. If you ever want to talk about all of this, I'm a pretty good listener."

"I think talking about it right now would rip my heart in two, but thanks for the offer."

"I'm open just about anytime. Well, I'd better let you get to your books..."

"Yes, I'll get started right away. Thanks again..."

He left and went back across the hallway to his room, taking his magical mental salve with him. For a moment, I felt like I would fall back into the pit of despair, but I fought against it, pushing the thoughts away and turning my attention to my library of Spanish textbooks. The only thing I wanted to think about right now was how to say "Hello, how are you," in Spanish.

I delved into the books, and found myself surprisingly captivated. If there was one thing that energized me, it was learning something new. I became so engrossed in my study of the Spanish language that I actually missed out on a good portion of the precious night hours available to me. By the time I realized the sun had gone down, it was well past 10:00, and I decided I'd better get outside and enjoy my few hours of freedom while I could.

I left the apartment building and began strolling the lively avenues of Centro Habana on foot, looking for something to hold my attention. Over the course of the evening, I floated from casino to casino, people-watching and learning the layout of the town. After a while, they all started looking the same (the clubs and the people in them), so I decided to begin a new pursuit – finding the city morgue. It wasn't an easy task – I didn't know how to say "morgue" in Spanish, and I was fairly certain that something as unsightly as a morgue would be located far from the entertainment hub that was Centro Habana.

I spent the rest of my evening searching in vain for somewhere to quench my growing thirst, and by the time I had given up looking, it was almost daylight again. Disappointed, I returned to my apartment-prison cell and went back to studying.

I stayed on the sofa, immersed in Spanish verb conjugation and vocabulary for all of the morning and most of the afternoon. By 4:00, I was ready for a change, and I decided to pay Jasper a visit to ask a few questions. After all, I was still curious about quite a few things, chiefly what it was that this "company" of vampires did as a business.

After a few knocks, Jasper answered his door, a slightly surprised look on his face.

"Oh, hi, Danny. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you had a few minutes to talk..."

"Sure. Come on in."

Once we were both seated in large, overstuffed chairs, he began the conversation.

"You seem in a much better mood today – are the books helping?"

"They're a lifesaver. Thank you."

"You're most welcome. So, do you want to talk about... it?"

"Actually, I'd rather talk about anything but it, if that's alright..."

"Sure, that's fine. We can talk about anything you want."

"Well, for starters," I began, "how do you say 'morgue' in Spanish?"

"Uh... morgue, actually."

"You're kidding. It's the same word?"

"I'm... fairly certain. Why do you ask?"

"I was walking around Centro Habana all night trying to find the city morgue, since I didn't know how to ask about it."

"Huh... I wondered why you never came to the Moon last night. So, why are you looking for a morgue?"

Here we go...

I wasn't exactly thrilled about explaining my scavenger nature to yet another group of vampires. These people already thought I was a geek as it was. This would only further their opinions.

"I was feeling thirsty."

"Okay, but why would you go to a morgue?"

"I don't... kill humans for blood. I take it from those who are already deceased."

He was taken back somewhat. "Wh – really? You drink it cold? Why?"

"Because I don't relish the thought of ending the life of another sentient being to feed myself. I know it seems strange, but it has actually worked out well for me for the last several years."

To my surprise, Jasper was actually interested. "How does that work, exactly? You sneak into a morgue and drink from a corpse?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much how it goes."

"And you feel satisfied?"

"Completely. Of course, it doesn't taste as good as warm blood, but it still curbs my appetite, and I don't have to feel guilty about killing someone."

"Well, you've got a lot more self-control than I'll ever have. I wish I could do something like that..."

"You can – anybody can. I've developed a few techniques that make it a lot easier, it just takes a little getting used to..."

He looked off, deep in thought for a moment. "Well maybe you can share your secret with me sometime..."

"I'd be happy to show you anytime you want. And, speaking of secrets, I had another question for you..."

"Okay..."

"Yesterday, you were telling me about what your... um... group does – what type of business it is that you run..."

"Oh, that. Well, It's mostly Hawkins' business, the rest of us just help here and there."

"And what is it that he does?"

"He takes care of loose ends for people."

"Loose ends?"

"He's very good at killing. It's a talent. Clients contact him with someone they need taken care of, and Hawkins gets the job done."

"So, he's an assassin?"

"Yeah, that's a pretty good way to put it."

"Wow..."

"Not what you expected, huh? It's actually a pretty lucrative business."

"But, why Hawkins? If you wanted someone dead, couldn't you just hire a regular hit-man?"

"If you want a sloppy kill, you could. People hire Hawkins because he never leaves any evidence. He can make it look like an accident – if that's what the client wants – or he can frame someone else for it. He's... extremely good at what he does, and people are willing to pay for good work. Besides, your average hit-man doesn't do vampires."

"He's a vampire assassin, too?"

"Hawkins will kill just about anybody if the price is right."

"And who does he end up killing? Political targets? Business rivals?"

"It's mostly politically-motivated stuff – rebellion leaders, candidates for office, people who know too much for their own good. Of course, there are personal vendetta's thrown in to the mix from time to time. We actually try to keep things in the dark as much as possible – we don't know much about our clients, they know even less about us."

"So, if Hawkins is the one who does all the killing, then what do the rest of you do?"

"First of all, he does most of the killing. Persephone and I help out when the job requires it. She always goes with Hawkins on the jobs to make sure everything's cleaned up afterwards. That memory maintenance she does comes in really handy when people happen to see or hear things they shouldn't. Plus, she's a great asset when we need information from a target before killing them – at least, if the target is a man..."

"Of course. That makes sense. And what about you – what's your specialty?"

"They only bring me in when the target is a vampire. I have a long history of killing our kind... it's an unfortunate skill I've picked up over the years. The rest of the time, I'm here to protect Emilio."

"Protect him? From whom?"

"Mates of the vampire targets, professional rivals, that sort of thing. Emilio is our protection – he's what allows us to have a safe place to base our work out of. Without him, our anonymity would be compromised, so his safety is a priority."

"Huh... he did seem a little concerned when I was asking for him at the club yesterday..."

"Yeah, he's a bit of a worrier by nature. I help with that, too."

"I know I'd be nervous if there were people after me all the time."

"No one's ever even been close to getting to him. It's more of a precaution than anything. Emilio is very dear to Hawkins, like a brother. Hawkins changed him years ago, and he's always been a little protective of him. I got the job as his bodyguard because of my ability – it takes a lot of work to keep Emilio's nerves under control sometimes."

"So, I'm curious... how does that work, exactly? Your ability, that is. You sense someone's mood and emotion, and then you can bend it in whatever direction you want, right?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much right."

"So, how do you influence it? Are you working with the brain – endorphins, chemical balances?"

"No, it's nothing that complicated. I just sort of... feel it. I can't really put a label on it, I just reach out and impose the mood I want on someone."

"Well, do you have to concentrate hard on it? Can you do more than one at a time? Is it mentally fatiguing? Sorry for all the questions, I just find this all very fascinating."

"I've been holding a conversation with you while keeping you feeling pleasant, so I guess I don't really have to concentrate much. And I can work over a whole room, as long as it's the same emotion for everyone. As far as it fatiguing me, I... guess it's never really been a problem."

"Amazing. The mechanics of your ability are so different from mine, yet both powers are equally effective."

"You have an ability, too?" Jasper leaned forward, his face lighting up in interest. "What is it?"

"I can see how things work, and slow them down or speed them up."

"What sorts of things?"

"Pretty much anything with moving parts. I've tried it on a variety of biological and mechanical subjects, and so far I haven't found anything that couldn't be influenced if I put enough thought into it. I often use it on myself to stifle my thirst for blood and my sense of smell when I'm around humans. It helps me keep a clear head."

"Fascinating. You said your ability works differently... how is it for you?"

"For me, it takes a lot of focus. I pour my attention into something, and sooner or later, an understanding just snaps into place, and I can see... well, not literally see, but I have a keen insight into every detail of how that subject functions. Then, if I choose, I can make adjustments to the processes involved – speed them up, slow them down, make them more efficient, that sort of thing. I've even had very limited success with moving things around on a microscopic level. Of course, like I said, it takes a lot of focus. The more intricate the subject is, and the more influence I want to exert on it, the more of my attention it takes. And for me, it does get quite exhausting mentally. After a short period of intense usage, I feel worn out. Fortunately, stifling my thirst has become almost second-nature to me. That part I can keep up for a long time. It's the more... involved uses that seem to tire me out. Okay, wow, that was probably way more explanation than you really wanted..."

"Not at all. Actually, your power sounds pretty amazing – I could see a lot of potential uses for it. Tell me this – you said you can control things in your own body – can you control someone else's?"

"'Control' is a little too strong a word. I can influence someone else's body..."

"In what ways? I'm curious..."

"Well, let's see... I've caused someone's body to stop giving off a scent, I've helped people to heal faster, I've dulled reflexes and inhibited movement..."

Something I said peeked his interest. He narrowed his eyes slightly, looking off for a second before breaking into my trailing-off list.

"When you say, 'inhibited movement,' just how inhibited are you talking?"

"Depending on how close I am to that person... I can do a lot. I could show you, if you want..."

"Sure. I'd like to see how it works."

"Okay, let's start with something simple," I said, suddenly somewhat giddy over the idea of experimenting again, "tap your fingers in sequential order on the coffee table. Try to keep the same speed and force. You'll notice when I start inhibiting you."

He obeyed, and began rolling his fingers on the coffee table, making a rhythmic clicking sound like a machine. I peered into his body, paying special attention to his hand – the nerve impulses, the muscle twitches, the joints and ligaments. After a brief second or two of studying, I started slowing down the nerve impulses to his index finger. Gradually, the rhythmic clicking of Jasper's fingers became more and more lopsided until the index finger stopped tapping altogether. He looked at me, a mildly confused expression on his face.

"That's... very weird, my finger... it feels like I'm trying to push it through solid rock. I can hardly move it at all."

"Let me try something else," I said, my excitement growing incrementally. This was actually great practice. I shifted my focus from Jasper's index finger to his middle finger, then to the other two, one at a time. Each one responded in turn, slowing until it hardly moved at all.

After moving through his fingers, I released my influence, allowing Jasper the full use of his hand once again. He flexed and stretched his fingers, re-acclimating himself to the nerve impulses that were now firing uninhibited.

"That's a nice trick," he said, still moving his hand around, "can it work on a larger scale?"

"Sure," I replied with an eager smile. This was my time to shine. "Try to hit me," I said confidently.

He looked uncertain. "Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you..."

"You won't. Just try it."

I poured on the influence over his arms, slowing the electrical impulses in his shoulders and arms to an absolute crawl. There was no way those arms were leaving his side. I waited for about thirty seconds while I stood three feet from him, watching him struggle. His arms swayed infinitesimally, never getting them six inches from his body. The only thing that was moving was his face, which went from deep concentration to consternation to a resigned bewilderment.

"Okay, you got me. I give up. Can I have my arms back now?"

"Certainly," I said, taking a step back in case he had trouble controlling his now-emancipated arms. He looked impressed as he moved his arms around, shaking them slightly like you would do if you woke in the night and your circulation had been cut off.

I smiled in pride and satisfaction. "So, what do you think? Pretty nifty, huh?"

"Extremely," he replied, his mind somewhere else. "Say, Danny, I should probably get a little work done before the evening gets going..."

"Oh, sure, no problem," I replied, picking up on his hint, "thanks for listening for a while. And for... that whole feelings thing."

"You're very welcome. Sorry to cut you short – maybe we can talk some more this evening at the club. That is, if you're actually coming this time..."

"I'll be there tonight. Promise."
"Great. Okay, well, I'll see you then."

I made my way over to the Diamond Lounge around 7:30, eager to get my mind sufficiently distracted. The top-level of the club was surprisingly busy for how early in the evening it was – there were vampires everywhere, playing cards, shooting pool, and just standing around talking. I was mostly interested in the octagonal glass room in the far corner. I glanced over, and sure enough, all four of my new acquaintances were in there, talking expressively about something. For a moment I entertained the thought of going over to join them, but I knew that was a bad idea. After all, I was 'Danny Watson' now; I didn't know them at all. Instead, I wandered over to a table where several well-dressed immortals were playing blackjack.

I stood to the side at first, just watching in amusement at the speed and fluidity of the game. Obviously, no one was concerned with pretenses here. After a few lightening-fast hands, the dark-complected gentleman on my end of the table turned to address me, speaking with a strange accent that sounded like some variant of French.

"Would you care to join us for a few hands? There is still room enough..."

"Oh... um, no thank you. I actually... don't have any money with me."

"Well, if that is your only hesitation, then play a few rounds... on me."

He handed me a small stack of chips, gesturing for me to sit down. I thanked him and had a seat as he continued, extending his hand to shake mine.

"You must be new here. I am Laurent..."

"Gr-... uh... great to meet you," I stammered, very nearly introducing myself as Grant Willoughby, "I'm Danny." The whole 'name-change' thing was going to take a little getting used to.

I played seven rounds, only winning once, before I was called away by my 'neighbor,' Jasper.

"Hey, Danny, fancy seeing you here," he said cheerfully as he came over to stand beside me. "Say, since you're here, you should come meet a friend of mine – that is, if you're able to break away from your game..."

"Of course," I responded, handing my few remaining chips back to Laurent. I thanked him again for his hospitality and went with Jasper back to the glass room. The other three team members were waiting for us, anticipation and curiosity visible on their faces.

"So, Danny," Jasper said as we stepped into the 'private' room, "I was telling the others about your ability, and they would all love to see it..."

"Please, Danny," Hawkins added in his rich Scottish accent, "enlighten us."

"Alright," I answered, excited but slightly nervous, "where should I brgin?"

"Jasper tells us you can make people's limbs go numb..."

"Among other things. I can affect the speed and efficiency of a variety of mechanisms."

"Would you care to give us a demonstration?"

"Sure," I replied, cooking up a plan as I spoke. "Hawkins, why don't we start with you? Go stand over there, and I'll show you how it works."

I gestured to the far corner of the room while peering into his body and beginning to influence it. He placed his arms on the chair, ready to stand up, but went nowhere. I was impeding the signal flow in his lower spine, severely impairing his leg functionality. It was a sort of rush trying to hold off so much at once – I had never tried cutting off an entire half of a body from the brain, and I was more than a little excited to find that it worked.

He wobbled and shook momentarily, barely lifting his rump off the seat before he sat back down with a light thud. An expression of mild confusion morphed into a smile on his face as he realized what was happening. Once I was sure he had a taste, I released my hold on him, allowing the impulses to run free.

"Where did you learn to do that?" He asked with a smirk.

"It's just something I apparently have a gift for. I figured out the mechanics gradually. That was actually my first time doing an entire lower body."

"Not bad, Danny, not bad," he said, stroking his chin.

"What did he do to you?" Persephone asked with visible curiosity.

"Everything from my waist down went tingly," he answered, "and I could hardly move my legs. It was like trying to walk through waist-high sand. Kinda spooked me there for a minute, Danny. You're messing with some important equipment down there..."

"Oh, give it a rest, you big baby," Persephone teased, "It's not that important."

"Oh, really? How would you like your life without it?"

"Alright ya'll," Jasper interjected, trying to bring the conversation back on course, "that's enough with the innuendos. Can we get back to the subject at hand?"

"Ah, Jasper, it's just a little friendly banter. We could go at it all night," Hawkins said with a wink. "But then, that wouldn't be fair to Danny, would it?" He turned his attention back to me. "I'm impressed with what you can do, Danny, but tell me, does it work on humans?"

"Sure. I can work with just about any living organism."

"And you just have to get close enough, right?" Jasper added.

"Right. There's definitely a proximity effect. The closer I am, the more... comprehensively I can influence something."

"So, in theory, if you were to, get, say, ten feet away, you could cause a human's heart to slow down so much that it would stop beating altogether?"

"Well... I suppose..."

He looked first at Persephone, then at Jasper.

"It could really help with the 'natural cause' jobs..." Persephone said in a contemplative tone.

"And it would make our vampire targets a lot easier to handle," Jasper added.

Hawkins looked at me again. "Danny, Jasper explained what it is that we do for a living, right?"

"Yes, he told me all about it."

"Alright, well, how would you like to work for... well, I guess I should say with us? A man of your skill would be an invaluable asset."

"Um... what? Seriously? I... don't know..."

"It would be so much fun, Danny," Persephone interjected, "we get to travel all over the place, do all sorts of different things. You would love it."

"Let me get this straight," I said, stalling while I tried to think through the offer, "you want me to work for you – killing random people?"

"Not just random people," Hawkins replied, "random people who have rich people that want them dead. And we would only need you in certain circumstances. You could accept or turn down any job we offer. And of course, you'd get paid your fair share for each hit. Trust me, it's no small sum."

"But what about keeping a low profile? Didn't you say I needed to stay in Havana?"

"I said you needed to stay close to Emilio," Hawkins countered, "and Emilio can go wherever you do."

"Wait," Emilio chimed in, "you're making me go along? I'm not so sure that's a good idea..."

"You'll be fine. We'll take care of it," Hawkins said, brushing Emilio's concern aside. "So, Danny, whadda ya say? Do you want to get out and make use of that gift of yours, or would you rather stay cooped up in your apartment for the next six months?"

What kind of a choice is that? I'll go crazy staying in that stupid apartment for all that time, but... killing? Why does that have to be my only way out?

"I'm sorry, Hawkins. It's a nice offer, but I'm done being a killer. I already have enough innocent blood on my conscience."

"Whoa, easy – no one's asking you to kill innocent civilians. Let me assure you, the majority of these targets deserve what's coming to them. We're talking about mob bosses, military coup leaders, dictators... they're far from innocent. And like I said, if a job sounds bad to you, don't take it."

It did sound enticing, especially if I could screen the targets. I certainly believed in justice, and didn't mind being the one to bring it. It had to be on my terms, though, and judging from the concessions they were already making, I got the impression the group would go along with just about anything I asked.

"Okay," I replied, trying to sound as firm and confident as possible, "but only if I know who I'm killing – and why."

"Of course," Hawkins responded.

"And I want to be able to get out of that apartment sometimes – at least roam around the city."

"I'm sure we can arrange that," he said, winking at Emilio.

"And one other thing," I added, not wanting to push my luck too far, "if there are any jobs in Italy, I want in, no matter what. I have some unfinished business over there..."

"Alright," he said with a shrug, "it's your funeral. Just don't expect us to help if you get caught."

"I won't."

"So, are there any more demands," Hawkins asked with mild sarcasm, "or can we count you in?"

"I'm in," I said confidently, ignoring the hitch I felt in the pit of my stomach. I was killing for a good reason – for peace and justice. And to get me closer to Coraline without being detected.

"Fantastic," He replied in a loud voice. "Now that that's out of the way, let's get on with the celebrating." He stood up and took Persephone's hand, lifting her to her feet. "Let me show you just how 'important' that equipment is," he said to her as they headed for the door. "You lads don't wait up for me," he yelled over his shoulder as he walked away, "it may be a while..."

It seemed odd to celebrate getting back into the 'killing' business, it wasn't exactly at the top of my list of life goals. It's for a good cause, I said to myself, medicating the doubt that kept flaring up.

Just remember, it's for a good cause.

6. EXISTENCE

- - - CORALINE GRAY - - -

THERE WERE NO CLOCKS IN MY ROOM, WHICH WAS JUST AS

well, since there were no windows, no calendars... no way of telling day from night, or day from day, or pretty much anything related to the passage of time. My new home was a bubble floating through hours and days, trapped in an eternal in-between. Of course, it's not like I expected anything different – when you live fourteen stories underground, the whole concept of daylight is a little pointless.

It had been seven days since I had moved in to this super-luxe bedroom, and I must say, it was a lot more comfortable than I expected. There were painted landscape scenes on the walls where windows would have been, including one mural that covered an entire wall and extended onto the ceiling. There was a king size bed at one end of the rectangular room, accompanied by several lounge chairs, a coffee table, a large dresser and armoire, and an expensive-looking wooden desk. The charcoal marble-tiled floor was covered in plush fur rugs – the kind that make you want to take off your shoes and just stand on them for hours. The room was lit entirely by decorative cauldrons that burned mildly fragrant materials.

My room décor would have been pleasant – even romantic, were it not for the fact that I was imprisoned in it for half a century. Harriet was placed on an entirely different floor, so I was more or less on my own most of the day (or night). She came down to visit whenever she had time, mostly to have a shoulder to cry on. Or, well, not cry cry, but, something like that. She was supposed to be going through some initial training with her ability, but most of the time she just sat around, depressed over Wesley's death. I couldn't blame her – I was depressed too. After all, he was my friend, too. I did miss Wesley, but on this particular night, like it was most other nights, I couldn't get my mind past the memory of Grant.

It had been seven days (yes, I was counting) since the Volturi had dropped me in this hotel-esque holding cell, which meant that it was now December 24 – Christmas Eve. I laid on my humongous bed all alone, and started thinking about last Christmas. I remembered the Beethoven music Harriet and Wesley gave me to go along with their piano. I remembered the snow – Harriet's wish coming true. Most of all, though, I remembered that little music box Grant bought me – the one to hold all my 'good' memories from Vienna. And they were good memories.

I let out a long, wistful sigh and closed my eyes, playing back that trip in my mind. It was Harriet's idea to go to the concert that night, one that I was absolutely opposed to. Looking back on things now, I was glad she insisted on the four of us going. After all, that was the first time I noticed Grant in a different way, the first tiny seed of this life-encompassing love that now held me captive.

I wouldn't have changed that night for anything...

It was cold outside, so I could get away with wearing a full-length white fur coat. Not that I needed it, but it made me feel a little better since Grant was around. The way he gawked and blinked his eyes when Harriet and I came out of the dressing room, you'd think we had just stepped out of heaven. I mean, it wasn't like he was a sex-crazed teenager about it – it was actually the most wholesome check-out I think I've ever received – but it was just a bit awkward, especially considering my history with Vienna, so I kept my fur coat wrapped around me.

The problem with Vienna was that everything reminded me of Rodney. And of course, every one of those sweet memories was tinted with pain and betrayal like a cyanide-laced cookie. The other three were enjoying themselves, taking in the sights, sounds and smells like it was their first day alive. I was content to just survive the night with some sliver of emotional sanity and get back home.

We went around to the back of the opera house and jumped up to our usual seats on the roof. As soon as I landed on top of the old building, the memories hit me, crushing me like a ton of bricks. If all of Vienna was a repository for bad memories, this was the vault where the very worst of them were kept. I forcefully repelled the thoughts that raided my mind and walked over to the row of four identical chairs, sitting on the far left end – as far away from my old seat as possible. I eyed Harriet and covertly gestured to her, asking her to come over and sit next to me. My patience was thin enough as it was – I didn't want to deal with Grant sitting next to me. It was bad enough that I was here at all, but of course, Harriet had to set it up like a stupid double-date. Well, I wasn't playing along. I would sit here and do my time and allow her to have her moment of happiness, but I wasn't going to put myself through any more reenactments.

Once the music started, things got a little easier. There was always something medicinal about music – something soothing to my senses. I tried to just 'check out' mentally and let the sound waves numb my throbbing emotions, but of course, Harriet couldn't keep quiet enough to let that happen. At first I tried to keep up with the usual uh-huh's and oh, really's, but after ten minutes of incessant chatter about absolutely everything imaginable, I gave up trying and just sat there. Harriet didn't take my approach too well.

"Honestly, Coraline," she said in a 'whisper' that was so loud I was sure everyone heard it, "do you have to pout the whole time? Can't you at least try to have a good time?"
"I'm not pouting," I responded flatly, "I just don't have anything to say."

"You are too pouting, and you know it. Just because he..." She paused, lowering her voice, as if it really made a difference. "Just because you spent time here... it doesn't mean you can't make new memories..."

She was really starting to irritate me.

"Don't lecture me, Harriet. You have no idea what it's like for me. Just leave me alone, okay? I came, didn't I?" I put a bit more sting on my words than I meant to, and Harriet dropped the conversation abruptly. I almost felt guilty. Almost.

I spent the next half hour trying to think about anything but Rodney, hardly noticing any of the music for the entire first half of the performance. I had half a mind to leave at intermission, but they were opening the second half of the concert with the Brahms Violin Concerto, which I totally adored, so I decided to bite the bullet and suffer through a few more miles down memory lane.

The music started back up, and I let the notes soak into me, washing away the hurtful memories with every sound wave. I used to play that exact piece of music for Harriet – I memorized every violin solo, every beautiful line to perfection. I wished for a moment that I was the one in the concert hall playing – it had always been a dream for me. Unfortunately, it was one that could never come true. At least, not for a crowd of appetizing humans.

By the end of the third movement of the Concerto, I was feeling better. Not fantastic, but better. My thoughts were caught up with notes and rhythms, volume swells and tempo pulls. I would have been perfectly content to leave it at that and end the night on a neutral note, but my perpetual house-guest, Grant, stepped in and threw my mind on a completely different track.

He stood up right in the middle of one of the songs and walked over to my seat, standing four feet away, facing me. He stood there silently for an awkward minute with this weird expression on his face that looked like a mixture of nerves and anxiety before stiffening up and speaking to me with an outstretched hand.

"Would you care to dance?"

What? Seriously? This guy does not make any sense.

I tried to feel out for his angle, which didn't take an ability to discern.

He had a crush on me. It was cute. Annoying, but cute.

"Umm... well..." I replied, trying to stall.

Normally, I would have totally brushed the thought aside, but there was something strange about the way he asked. His voice had a tone I had never heard from him before. Strong. Firm. It was almost... attractive. Which, of course, was weird, since I really didn't think of him that way.

I wonder... is Harriet paying attention to all of this?

I stole a quick glance in her direction, trying to be discrete. Of course she's paying attention, what was I thinking? Here eyes were screaming at me 'DO IT! GO FOR IT!' Great. Just what I needed – the match-maker at work again. I looked back at Grant, ready to find a polite way to turn him down, but... I couldn't. I didn't know why, but there was something that was pulling me in. Before I knew what I was doing, I answered him, sputtering out some disjointed answer.

"Okay. I mean...um...sure. But I'm not really much of a dancer..."

Coraline Gray! What are you doing? You don't even like dancing. And this is Grant that's asking you to dance. Science nerd, vampire-orphan Grant. Don't lead the poor boy on. In spite of my mental scolding, I reached out and took his hand, and to my surprise, it felt good. There was something comforting about it, something warm and sweet, like fresh apple pie.

We walked over to a flat space on the roof, still close enough to see Wes and Harriet, but far enough away to have that awkward sense of 'privacy' I was hoping to avoid. I paused for a moment before we began our little dance routine, suddenly remembering why I didn't like dancing.

I was terrible at it.

Perfect, I thought to myself as I remembered my pathetic dancing skills from my human days, I'm dancing with a guy I don't even like, and I'm going to look like an idiot doing it. Maybe I can talk my way out of this...

"I have to warn you," I said, still looking at the roof-turned-dance floor beneath me, "I really don't know what I'm doing. I never really learned to dance..."

"It's easy," he interrupted gently, as my eyes came up to meet his, which were fixed in a surprisingly magnetic gaze, "just follow me. I'll show you how."

Something happened to me as I lingered there, eyes locked onto his. I didn't want to look away. There was something about the way that they smiled at me, warm, welcoming, trusting... the way it made me feel was unusual, but... nice.

I didn't want it to stop. But then, I did want it to stop. Snap out of it, Coraline, I chided myself, remember who you are. I was the responsible one. I was the one that needed to keep a clear head, the one that had to be able to see the first sign of danger with this guy. I couldn't let myself get caught up in any stupid charm he may be trying to put on. I looked away forcefully and stepped into hold to begin the dance, hoping the concentration required by dancing would get my mind back in control of my emotions.

For a while, my distraction worked perfectly. Just like I remembered, I was a terrible dancer, but thanks to my graceful vampire nature and some clear, gentle instruction from Grant, I picked up the basics of the dance in no time. It was a waltz – the dance we were attempting – and to my surprise, I was actually doing a pretty good job at it. We twirled together on the rooftop, our bodies keeping time with the music, as if our feet were the missing instruments in the song. After a few minutes of dancing with him, I realized, to my rational mind's dismay, that I was really enjoying it. I wanted to snap out of it, but for a moment, I let the irrational side of me take over. After all, I deserved a little break in discipline now and then.

We danced to the music for a few more minutes before he started talking to me, taking me further down a path that I shouldn't have been traveling. I needed to get back to an objective perspective on Grant, but the disciplined side of me was tired, and the emotional side was having its way.

"You know, you're actually quite good at this," he said, in what sounded like a genuine compliment. "I'm surprised you don't dance more often." Had I been thinking rationally, I probably would have seen through his attempts at flattery and deflected the whole conversation, but I was giving in to my whims, so I went along with it.

"Thanks. I guess it's not that hard after all. Of course, I did have a good teacher..." I was actually somewhat shocked at the words that were coming out of my mouth. Are you flirting? What on earth is going on here, Coraline?

Flirting must have been working - he continued the conversation. "If only I could learn music as easily as you learn dance."

"Not much of a musician, huh?" I replied, letting my guard slip further and further.

"Music and I have always had a one-sided relationship. I enjoy her company; she doesn't enjoy mine."

"Come, now, you can't be that bad..."

"You'd be surprised. Even vampires can be dreadfully awful at something."

At this point, I wasn't paying a bit of attention to any of the signals he was putting out, but I knew he must be exaggerating, reaching for a compliment. He couldn't possibly be that bad at anything.

"I think the only thing you're dreadfully awful at is giving yourself enough credit." I said, making my defection to the dark side complete.

I was complimenting him. Encouraging him.

I wanted to pull myself out of it, but it just felt so nice to be relaxed for once... I couldn't ruin it. Not yet. So we talked and danced for the rest of the concert. He told me a little about his mother, how she would dance with him in the parlor when he was a child. It was so sweet – I could almost see the little boy in him, affectionate, trusting, adorable. In fact, just about everything he said was adorable.

I didn't want the music to end, but it did, and once the concert was over, Wes and Harriet stepped in to break up my moment (something that my disciplined side was grateful for).

"You two ready to get back to the hotel?" Wesley asked with a teasing smile. He was enjoying this way too much. He thought I had cracked. He was ready to tease me all night about my 'little romantic evening' with Grant. Not in this lifetime, buddy. I'm still in control.

"Of course. Let's go," I said as nonchalantly as possible, making sure to distance myself from Grant as if the last half hour had meant nothing. "We don't want to raise suspicion by coming back too late."

My recovery seemed to work. Wesley and Harriet dropped the teasing idea, heading back over to the edge of the building and jumping down to the alley below. I was ready to follow them and forget that anything in the last thirty minutes had ever happened, but I just couldn't. I knew dancing with Grant had meant a lot more to him than to me, and to be fair... it had meant something to me. It was so... comfortable. Being with him was easy – as natural as breathing. Of course, like breathing, I didn't actually have to do it. But it was nice to pretend...

I stopped right before jumping down to the alley, pausing to let an internal debate break out between my mind and my heart. I wanted to say something to Grant. He was so sweet, I just couldn't brush him off and make him think I was completely indifferent. On the other hand, I certainly didn't want to lead him on and have him think I was in any way attracted to him (even if I was, just a little). I turned to face him, getting lost for a moment in those warm, welcoming eyes.

Focus, Coraline!

I was searching for the right words to say to him, trying to find the right balance of formal politeness and sincerity, when the words just came out on their own.

"Thanks for dancing with me. I... it was nice."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I turned and jumped down to the alley. My disciplined side was fuming.

Nice going, Coraline. Way to keep an objective distance.

I knew it was going to take a little while to regain the right perspective on Grant – the safe, healthy perspective. I guess it could have been worse, though, my emotional side countered, trying to justify my behavior, I did try to keep it distant. I'm sure he got the message – I'm not interested in him. At least I didn't get his hopes up.

I ended my mental movie as I continued to lay there on my bed, all alone. If only I had known, I thought in a self-accusing way, if only I could have gotten past that stupid objectivity and seen him sooner... All the time we could have had... all the time I lost. And now, what do I have? Nothing. An existence, that's what I have. And memories. Ugh! Too many memories...

I huffed another sigh and pulled myself up, unable to wallow in the memories any longer. I needed to get out of this room, get a change of scenery. After all, I was confined to the catacombs, not to my individual room. I took the elevator back up to the commons, walking slowly through the grand hallways and chambers of the original Volturi habitat. It was beautiful... in a grandiose, austere sort of way.

Higher and higher I wandered, coming gradually closer to the surface and the world above. I paid little attention to the assorted worker and guards that passed by, and they payed even less attention to me. It was like I was invisible – a ghost, wandering the underworld of the city, neither living nor dead.

I kept walking aimlessly through the underground city for hours until finally, something unexpected stirred me out of my stupor.

Moonlight.

I walked slowly in the direction of the narrow band of soft white light that shined down like an ivory shaft into the tomb-like cavern I stood in. Seventy feet above me, there was a street-corner drain that opened up like a hole in the sky, allowing a tiny sliver of the world above to sneak through the sewer system overhead, down the thirty-foot drainage shaft that kept the humans out, and onto the floor in front of me.

I looked up the ivory shaft with kid-like curiosity and sure enough, there was the tiniest piece of sky visible through the hole. I gazed out into the little patch of night sky for a long time, fixated on the single star that moved gradually across my view.

My whole plan of finding a distraction failed as I stood there, staring at the sky. I couldn't escape it. My thoughts moved to Grant, the one person I was truly myself around. More than anything, I just wished he could be there with me, even for a moment. I could almost feel his warm, sweet arms around me, perfectly comfortable, perfectly fitted to me. I said a quiet prayer to a God I still wasn't sure I believed in as I looked at that one little star, all alone like I was.

"If you're real, if you're out there, could you do me one favor? After all the hell you've put me through, I think you owe me at least one. I know you could probably care less about me, and that's okay. I haven't exactly given you a reason to like me. But if you're out there, and you care at all for Grant, could you tell him something for me? Could you tell him that I love him? And that as soon as I can get out of here, I'll find him. Could you tell him that? Please?"

I watched the little star begin to move out of my sight as the sound of my words echoed in the large, stone chamber around me, never escaping the confines of my underground prison. Who am I kidding, I thought to myself as the star disappeared into the black night sky, there's no one listening. And even if there were, it wouldn't make a difference. I can't expect Grant to sit around for fifty years, just waiting for me to show up. He'll move on with his life – he has to. He should.

I started walking back to the staircase that led to the commons, defeated, retreating to my little room. No, I thought bitterly as I went, my romance story is over. This is my life now – existence. Memories and existence.

7. ROUTINE

- - - DANNY WATSON - - -

I HAD NEVER REALLY BEEN FOND OF PARTIES - ESPECIALLY

when the majority of the people there were complete strangers to me – but being around strangers on Christmas Eve was better than being alone.

Or so I thought.

Christmas isn't a holiday that's normally celebrated in the wider vampire culture, and this particular night was no exception to the rule. The thirty-plus vampires that occupied the Diamond Lounge with me were celebrating the new year (which, as I came to learn, was the only holiday vampires normally celebrate). The Havana culture already lent itself to excessive partying, and this was the mother of them all.

The Volturi held a keen interest in keeping the vampire population in Havana low, and one way of doing that was to have a sort of census taken twice every year, January 1st and July 1st. Most of the vampires in town would be vacating before the week-long census was taken, so this was a sort of 'last-hurrah' for partying, a virtual mardi gras for the city. The festivities began on the 24th and ran every night for a week. By 10pm on Christmas Eve, I was beginning to wonder if I would make it through one night, let a lone seven in a row.

Despite the assurances from my new 'friends,' being at this party was not good for me. Perhaps under different circumstances, I could have enjoyed myself – Jasper was immersed in a billiards tournament, Hawkins had a young lady under each arm (at least they were vampires this time), Persephone had already disappeared with her first sexual conquest of the night, even Emilio was talking and laughing with friends.

Given all the opportunities for social interaction, I should have been able to find some enjoyment in the evening, but on this particular night, the prospect of a week-long party felt more like a prison sentence. Here I was, surrounded by people – people just like me, people who I could supposedly 'be myself' around – but there was no one to talk to. The only person in the world I truly wanted to be with at that moment was the one person I could never see again. The rest of these well-meaning vampires may as well have been ghosts or visions – having the appearance of company but lacking the substance.

They couldn't help me. I was all alone.

After suffering through a chain of socially awkward conversation fragments, I escaped to the far back corner of the room, using the fire exit to gain access to the roof (and a little fresh air for a change). Things were quieter there – simpler. The wind blew briskly across my face as I stood alone in the December night, staring aimlessly at the star canopy above me. I hadn't really taken note of the night sky since that plane ride with Coraline just a month ago.

A month ago. Really? Has it been that short a time? It feels like years... like ages.

My mood sank as I scanned the sky, thinking of my lost love and the life I almost had. I traced constellations in my mind, trying to make sense of the jumble of lights in the air before fixating on one solitary star that burned brighter than the ones around it. Just like me, I thought to myself as I stared at the twinkling light, completely surrounded, but still... alone.

I thought again about the talk Coraline and I had shared under the tree the night everything fell apart. It was a memory I could never escape – a kind of 'good' hurt I kept returning to like an addict returns to his fix. I told her how I felt that night – that I loved her, that I couldn't go on living as 'just friends.' I kissed her, and she kissed back – it wasn't like I was the only one involved in the process, but still... she never told me if she felt the same. She never said it.

Doubt snuck in as I stood there under the stars, its dark tentacles twisting my memories into a weapon against me. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions, I mused, growing despondent, I mean, she never actually said "I love you." Of course, that didn't mean she didn't love me, but, then, how hard would it have been to say it if she did mean it? The kiss was nice, for sure, but what if it meant something totally different to her? Obviously, physical affection has absolutely no connection to love in the minds of the vampires here in Havana, maybe I'm just the weird one. Maybe a kiss was all it was, nothing more...

My chest ached with the emotional strain, ready to cave in at any moment. Unrequited love, a poison-tipped dagger to the heart. Fatal. I am ruined. I wanted so badly to give up and accept my fate. At least there would be rest in coming to grips with it and closing off that part of my heart. I wanted to quit, but I couldn't. There was something else inside me, pulling at my emotions from another direction, trying to rip me in two.

Hope.

What if she did – does love me? What if she wanted to tell me – just like I wanted to tell her for so long – but just couldn't find a way to get it out? After all, it's not like we had a lot of time together from that night on... maybe I'm not a fool after all...

As illogical as hope seemed to be given the circumstances, I allowed myself to hope that night – to hope that Coraline really did love me, to hope we could find a way to be together again, to hope that there was still happiness ahead of me. I couldn't give up yet, not while there was still an ounce of hope left.

Christmas Eve passed eventually, as did the next six nights of partying and the following seven nights of... not partying. The group and I kept a surprisingly normal profile during the census week, despite the fact that there were two Volturi guard members roaming around town counting vampires. Hawkins assured me that he had the right "connections" to keep me off the official count, so we went about, conducting business as usual. Which, for this group, was anything but usual.

Over the course of my first six weeks with Hawkins and his 'company,' I came to realize that they were all very good at three things: training, killing, and partying. All three ventures were approached with the same relentless energy, this incessant drive to do things bigger and better. Hawkins and Persephone took thirteen jobs in that span of time, most of them lasting a day or two. Jasper only left once; I assume he stayed in Havana to help get me up to speed with the whole 'vampire assassin' thing.

We kept a very predictable routine. Daylight hours were completely devoted to training and studying. I divided my time between mastering foreign languages, honing my speed-change ability, and learning hand-to-hand combat techniques from Jasper. The language acquisition was the easy part – at least for me. Jasper and Emilio supplied me with ample reading materials, and I planted myself on the living room sofa for hours on end, learning every phrase and nuance of the language I could. Before coming to Hawkins, I spoke three languages fluently: English, French and German. By the end of February, I had, in addition to the first three, a mastery of Spanish, Mandarin, Farsi, Russian, and a head start on Japanese.

Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays were for language development. Tuesdays and Fridays were set aside for developing my mental abilities. In the past, I had always enjoyed tinkering with my ability, testing out theories in a paced, scientific manner. Working with Hawkins and Jasper was completely different. Everything was a high-intensity, strenuous, fast-paced workout. We eventually had to institute mental breaks at regular intervals to allow me to recuperate from the strain on my mind. It was unpleasant to be stretched so far, but in the short time I had been training, I was beginning to see positive results. My range was gradually increasing, as was my speed in deciphering unfamiliar objects.

Wednesdays and Sundays were reserved for hand-to-hand combat training, which was the most taxing of the education I received. I had never been much of an athlete, opting for science tournaments and chess clubs over football and track. All the relative ease of learning languages was offset by the difficulty with which I learned to fight. Fortunately, Jasper was a very patient man. He had been training inexperienced vampires in combat tactics for years, and, as he often reassured me, I was not his most challenging student by a long shot. Still, it was a bit of a drudgery. I learned common attack and defense maneuvers, the strengths and weaknesses of the vampire anatomy, how to approach an unskilled target, and other useful, but physically demanding lessons from my sparring sessions with Jasper. It was a good thing vampires don't bruise – otherwise I would have had far more purple skin than white.

Even with the physical challenges of combat training days, I enjoyed my daytime hours with the Havana coven. Any time I could learn things and enhance skills, I was happy. The nights, though... those were a different story. Hawkins believed in partying with just as much energy and enthusiasm as training. Every night was a parade of new faces and names, mostly human, mostly female, mostly food for Hawkins. He hunted (if you could call it that) with disturbing frequency, feeding several times a week, mostly on young women he first seduced. Persephone wasn't much better, though she kept her feeding habits much more private. Their justification for killing so often was that it was good for business.

One of the cardinal rules of the company was that one must never, under any circumstances, feed off of a target. Even if the body was supposed to 'disappear,' Hawkins and Persephone never allowed themselves to drink from a victim of their services. Keeping the vampire nature of the business a secret was of utmost importance. In their minds, they were staying full on blood while at home to be better equipped to resist their cravings while on the job. In my mind, they had the run of the town, and they were using it to be blood-gluttons. Either way, it was out of my hands. All I could do was watch and try not to think about it too much.

For all his experience in killing, I was pleasantly surprised that Jasper fed as infrequently as he did; about once every three weeks. There was a lot of good in him – I could see it. He wasn't like the others, killing humans like they were livestock. I could tell it bothered him every time he took a life. Maybe that's why I found friendship with him to come naturally – we were alike in that respect.

Feeding for me was more difficult than it had ever been. The city morgue system was much more organized and accountable than the small-town Canadian facilities of my early days and the disheveled, overworked European ones of my recent past. Sneaking in was still easy, but much of the time, there was not a single cadaver that still had blood in it. I found only two viable bodies in nearly two months of living in Havana, which, after years of a weekly fix, was challenging. It took a great deal of concentration to suppress my blood metabolism and cravings enough to move around in public, an effort I was unaccustomed to making. Still, I was committed to my ideals – I would not kill a living being to satisfy my desires. I would just have to become stronger.

On evenings when I wasn't looking for a viable corpse to feed from, I usually ended up with the others in the Diamond Lounge. The social environment in Havana was so... loose. Crude, even. In my short time experiencing it, I was still very uncomfortable with the culture. People gambled with, stole from, slept with and killed each other without as much as a second thought. It was as if any concept of morality was completely forgotten. The only universal truth was the entitlement of every person to do whatever made them feel good. It was disheartening and depressing, but it was inescapable. After all, this was my home now.

By the end of February, I was beginning to grow tired of the strict routine of business and pleasure. The others never noticed it because they left town so often, but without a break in the monotony, the Havana high-life was actually quite boring. Jasper must have picked up on my feelings, because he popped into my apartment one afternoon with the perfect solution.

"Hey there, Danny. You busy?"

I placed a bookmark in my Russian textbook, laying it on the coffee table and turning to answer my new (and for the current time, only) friend.

"Not at all. What can I do for you?"

"The others and I were thinking – you must be getting pretty bored doing the same thing every night, so how about we try something different tonight?"

"Sure, that would be great. What did you have in mind?"

"Skydiving," he replied with a devious smile, "vampire style."

"And... how would that be different from human style?" I asked, intrigued but a little uncertain.

"You'll see," he answered with a wink. "So, are you in? It'll be fun..."

"Um, sure, I guess."

"Great!" He responded with a pat on the shoulder. "You're gonna love it. We'll all meet down in the lobby at seven o'clock and go together. I'll see you then..."

He left me to return to my studies for a few hours before the sun went down – hours that seemed to pass more slowly than usual. I wasn't accustomed to having something to look forward to in the evenings – it was a most welcome change in the routine.

I was down in the lobby at five minutes 'till seven, ready to try out 'vampire-style' skydiving, whatever that meant. Jasper and Persephone arrived shortly after, and the three of us waited on Hawkins until about 7:15. He apparently operated on his own timetable.

Once we were all present (except for Emilio, who chose to stay home), we loaded into Hawkins' 1942 Cadillac Convertible and set off toward the coast. It was a beautiful machine – bright, cherry red with a white top and white-walled tires. Every exterior surface of the car glistened in the evening lights as if it were made of platinum and gemstones, drawing the attention (and envy, no doubt) of everyone who laid eyes on it. The interior was every bit as well-appointed as the glossy body – plush two-toned leather upholstery welcomed me as I took my place in the spacious back seat, which was even more roomy once the convertible top was lowered to give a perfect view of the night sky above me. This was my first time to get to ride in 'The Car', and its opulence came as no surprise – everything Hawkins and his associates did here was over the top.

"Where are we going?" I asked Jasper, leaning over the center arm-rest and speaking above the roar of the eight-cylinder engine that growled like a beast charging into war.

"Up the coast about forty miles," he answered, as we pulled into the street and began driving east. "We have a private airstrip."

"Wow. That's impressive. So, I take it that's where you leave for most of your work-related trips?"

"Yeah, most of the time. We have a small collection of aircraft that we rotate from time to time. The hard part is finding good pilots. Hawkins and Persephone had the last three for dinner."

He talked so plainly about such things that it was mildly disturbing. I had to remind myself, though, that Jasper was but a product of his environment – one I hoped to avoid the influence of.

After a brief ride, we arrived at the so-called air strip, which was more like a private airport. Five distinct runways criss-crossed a fifty-acre plot of flat land, all surrounded by twelve-foot barbed-wire fencing. Four large, steel hangars housed an assortment of single and dual-propeller planes. It put my humble little forest runway in Belgium to shame. There was a medium-sized dual-prop plane waiting for us on the runway when we arrived, engines spinning, ready to take off.

"You chaps don't waste any time, do you?" I said to Jasper as we pulled up to the aircraft, "I mean, other than Hawkins..."
"Yeah, it's funny," Jasper said loudly to make sure Hawkins heard his reply, "he doesn't like people to waste his time... but he sure doesn't mind wasting ours, huh?" He slapped Hawkins' shoulder jokingly before continuing. "Actually, the plane's here early 'cause we're hoping to make time for three or four runs, and the sooner we get in the air, the better chance we have of getting those extra runs in. We have to go a few miles out to sea to have the privacy we need for this kind of fun. Don't worry – it won't take long."

"Out to sea? We're jumping over water? I guess I should have dressed a bit differently..." I was wearing khaki slacks and a cashmere sweater – not exactly something you'd want to get wet in.

"Don't worry," he answered as we stepped out of the car and walked toward the plane, "I've got you covered. You can change on the plane."

No sooner had we boarded the plane than it started to take off, barely leaving enough time for me to find a seat. Our human pilot took us north, heading out into the endless expanse of the Caribbean Sea. Once we were at a cruising altitude, Jasper produced my skydiving outfit – a swimsuit. I entered the rear cabin of the vessel and changed into the small black shorts with some trepidation. I hadn't been swimming for leisure since I was a young lad, and in those days, swimsuits were a bit more... modest.

After a bit of feet-dragging, I put the suit on and rejoined the others, who all had their suits underneath their normal clothing. To my relief, no one even seemed to notice my outfit change, and once we were closer to the release point, they joined me in their own similarly small suits. Persephone seemed to have a bit more fun with the whole 'undressing' act than necessary, shedding her evening attire like she had a paying audience. The swimsuit underneath was, to follow a common theme, small.

And bright red.

And generally hard not to notice and appreciate.

The scandalously-cut outfit was in two pieces, leaving a portion of her midriff exposed, as if she needed any more help gaining attention. She was a very attractive, well-proportioned woman, and she knew it. Consequently, I spent a good deal of time studying the gray steel walls of the plane.

After about twenty minutes in the air, Jasper nudged me on the shoulder.

"We're almost to the drop point. You ready?"

"Uh... I suppose. Shouldn't I get strapped into my parachute?"

He cocked his head slightly, flashing a devious grin. "Nah, parachutes are for mortals. And sissies. Like I said earlier, we're doing this vampire-style."

"Oh, my... alright, well, that's a little unnerving..."

"Don't worry, you'll be fine. It's pretty simple, actually. While you're in the air, you can position yourself with the wind resistance. To speed up, pull your limbs in close to your core; to slow down, spread out as much as possible. But then, who wants to slow down?"

"Um... me?" I was growing more uncertain about this by the minute. Would it be such a bad thing to ride back to the ground in the plane with the pilot?

"Aww, don't go chickenin' out on me now," Jasper continued, pouring calm over my emotions like warm honey, "it's a lot of fun, honest. Now, there are a few other things to remember. First, you'll be going pretty fast when you hit the water, and, it does sting a bit, so I suggest you pull into a ball or something when you're about to land, unless you're a pretty experienced diver. Second, the water still isn't very deep here, so once you're under, make sure to spread out and slow yourself down a bit. I've hit the bottom more than a few times, and that doesn't feel great either. Once you land, swim back up to the surface, and we'll have a boat come pick you up. And... I think that's it. So, are you ready to try it out?"

"Sure," I replied, emboldened by Jasper's mood-tweaking. At the moment, I was ready to take on a herd of stampeding bulls.

"Okay. Well, Hawkins is first, then Persephone, and then you're up."

The side door of the plane opened, and I watched as first Hawkins, then Persephone leaped out into the night air, shouting and laughing as they went. Next was my turn, and once again empowered by Jasper's tinkering, I jumped out without a moment's hesitation, plunging headfirst toward the water below.

The feeling of free-falling at thirty thousand feet was exhilarating – and terrifying. Once Jasper was out of range, I returned to my senses and realized exactly what it was I was doing. There was a part of me that threatened to have a total mental breakdown as I watched the world below me rapidly approach my plummeting body, but I couldn't. The rest of me was having too much fun.

For thousands of years, mankind has dreamt of gaining the ability to fly, and now I understood why.

It was amazing.

I followed Jasper's advice, spreading out my arms and legs to increase wind drag and slow down. It worked like a charm. Next, I tried speeding up, pulling my limbs in tightly to my core and plunging head-first in a straight line. The speed was remarkable – my vampire body raced to the earth as if it had been shot out of a cannon. I got so caught up in trying different positions that I lost track of how quickly I was approaching the ocean's surface, and by the time I noticed where I was, I barely had a chance to pull my limbs in before slamming into the water. It may sound strange to use the word 'slamming' when referring to landing in a liquid, but at the speed I was traveling, hitting the water was like hitting concrete. A boom like a thunderclap shot out as I crossed the ocean surface, plunging into the water's depths like a meteor. When Jasper said it would 'sting,' he was understating it.

A lot.

A 'stinging' pain is one you feel when you get a shot at the doctor's office.

This was more like getting hit by a bus.

On fire.

Fortunately, the pain subsided quickly, and I spread out under the water, hoping to slow myself down before I hit something a little more solid. Apparently I waited too long, because I still hit the bottom, though I was traveling slowly enough to absorb the impact with my legs and rebound upward toward the surface. After a brief swim, I resurfaced and waited for the aforementioned boat to retrieve me. By the time it came my way, it was already carrying the other three, who were soaked, but smiling and laughing.

"Well, whadda ya think, Danny?" Hawkins asked as I climbed aboard the little speedboat, "you like flying?"

"Absolutely. Can we do it again?"

"You bet we can. And now that you've got the hang of it, I'll tell the pilot to take us up to the normal altitude."

"Wait – you go higher than that?"

"Aye, about fifteen thousand feet higher," he said with a smile, "when are you gonna figure it out, Danny? We push everything to the limits. If you liked thirty thousand feet, you'll love forty-five."

Hawkins was right.

We reentered the plane and flew further out the next time, ascending to just under forty-six thousand feet before making our next jump. The second time down, I had much more time to free-fall, and was able to spend more of that time enjoying myself instead of trying not to panic. I spent most of this second run pushing my descent faster and faster, reveling in the rush as the air sped past me. From my best calculations, taking into account my mass and the altitude of the drop, I must have been traveling well over four hundred miles-per-hour by the time I hit the water, which was an even greater 'sting' than the first landing.

I entered hands-first this time, keeping a regular diving position, which made me look more professional entering the ocean, but didn't make me feel any better. Still, the shock of reentry into the ocean was a small price to pay for the four minutes of pure adrenaline I experienced getting there.

We were able to dive two more times before releasing the pilot and drying off. Hawkins was insistent that no one stepped foot into his car with so much as a drop of moisture on them. Of course, I didn't really mind getting dry and dressed in normal clothing again. The water temperature was about fifty-five degrees on the surface, which wasn't so bad, but it was much colder at the ocean floor, and air-drying in a convertible with sixty-degree weather would have been unpleasant, even for a vampire.

Once we were all sufficiently moisture-free, we took the red convertible back to the apartment, talking and laughing all the way back. It was the perfect break in my routine – fun, exciting, diverting. I hardly thought of my previous life at all during the excursion – which, in and of itself, was a welcome reprieve. Not that I wanted to forget Coraline and Wes and Harriet, but it was relieving not to grieve over their loss for a little while.

It was nearing sunrise as we pulled up in front of our high-rise apartment building and handed the car over to the valet service. Emilio was in the foyer waiting for us as we returned, pulling Hawkins aside to whisper something in his ear – a business matter, I assumed. I was ready to return to my apartment and put in a full day of studying, but Hawkins stopped me before I stepped onto the elevator, calling out from across the room as he caught up with me.

"Danny, once you get cleaned up, why don't you come up to my suite and join me for a few minutes. I have something to talk to you about."

"Um... okay..." I replied, a little wary of his intentions. Is this a good something or a bad something? "Give me just a few minutes and I'll be up there. I'll make it quick."

"Great." He responded plainly as he stepped onto the express elevator to the top floor.

I went back to my apartment and washed off the 'ocean' smell that I had acquired over the course of the evening, hurriedly dressing and taking the elevator up to Hawkins' suite. I still hadn't been there since the first day I moved into the apartment, despite the fact that I was supposedly 'part of the group,' so I was a little curious as to the occasion of my summoning.

I arrived promptly on the top floor, crossing the plush hallway and tapping lightly on his door. Persephone answered it, welcoming me inside. Jasper and Emilio were seated in large leather chairs off to my right, positioned on either side of Hawkins, who greeted me as I entered the room.

"Thanks for coming, Danny," he said in a warm, but flat tone, exuding a sort of business-like propriety, "we have an important matter to discuss with you. Have a seat."

8. INVOLVEMENT

"I'VE BEEN TALKING IT OVER WITH THE OTHERS, AND WE ALL think it's time for you start making your contribution to the group."

Hawkins handed me a manila folder filled with typed pages, maps and photographs, continuing to speak as I briefly perused the information.

"We got the call on a big job yesterday, and as it turns out, we could use your help..."

"What he means is, you're helping, whether you like it or not," Jasper interjected with a smile.

"No, no... we told him he could turn down any job he didn't want," Hawkins countered. "Of course, Emilio's going on this one, so if he wants to stay invisible, he'll come."

Great. Some 'choice' this is.

"Okay, so what type of job is this?" I asked, more than a little uncomfortable with the corner I had been backed into.

"Just the type your sensitive conscience can stomach," Hawkins answered with a wink. "The Japanese empire is holding a group of eleven high-profile American prisoners in a secret facility in Burma. We're going to extract them and return them to the United States."

"Wait... so you do rescue missions, too?" My mood lightened a bit. This was something I could handle.

"Oh, and we're going to kill everyone else at the facility," Hawkins continued, "I guess I should have specified that..."

Well, this is just fantastic – a mass-murder, and I'm being forced to join it.

My mood soured quickly as I thought of all the innocents I had already killed as a vampire. Jasper noticed the change, and added an explanation.

"It's not what it seems, Danny. This is a military operation, cut and dry. All those others we'll be killing are soldiers, enemy soldiers. Practically Nazis, really. And the prisoners are civilians, who are probably being tortured as we speak. This time, we get to be the good guys. You shouldn't feel bad about helping."

His justification helped a little, but I still wasn't sold on the idea.

"Well, if it's a purely military job," I countered, "then why don't the Americans do it with their own army? Wouldn't that be simpler?"

"Danny, Danny, Danny..." Hawkins replied, shaking his head with a smirk, "if it was simple, they wouldn't have called us. Take a look at those pictures in the folder..."

He continued to talk as I pulled out the fuzzy photographs. "These were taken by a Japanese man – a spy for the Americans under deep cover. He was the one who tipped off the U.S. on the location of the camp. If the Americans go in with their guns blazing and their flag flying, the Japs are gonna know they've got a mole. The Americans aren't willing to risk losing one of their only reliable long-term spies over one mission, so they called us to do the job for them."

"So, you're telling me that we're being hired by the United States government?" I was still trying to figure out how all this 'assassin' stuff worked.

"Well..." Hawkins replied, "officially we don't exist, and this operation never happened. Unofficially, this is now the third job I've pulled off for Mr. Roosevelt."

"Roosevelt? As in, Franklin D. Roosevelt?"

"Aye. That's the one. You seem surprised..."

"Well, of course I'm surprised! You've been hired by the president of the United States?"

"Sure. I'll work for Roosevelt if he pays well enough, which he usually does. Doesn't mean I like it, though. He's a bit of an ass to work for, all these procedural guidelines, 'collateral damage' control and that sort of rubbish. I'd much rather do a job for Stalin – as long as the target goes down, he doesn't really care what we do. Americans have all the money, though, and they don't mind spending it."

"You work for Stalin, too? Doesn't that ever present you with a conflict of interest?"

Hawkins let out a hearty laugh, while the others chuckled, as if I'd missed out on some inside joke.

"You're kidding, right?" He said after his laughter subsided. "Brother, we live in a conflict of interest. Roosevelt hires me to kill Germans, Hitler hires me to kill Brits, Churchill hires me to kill Italians, and Stalin... well, he'll hire me to kill just about anybody. I've actually had three offers in the last six months to snuff out Roosevelt, but I always decline that sort of thing – it's bad for business."

"Speaking of business," Jasper interjected, "can we get back to it? We do have a timetable, after all..."

"Right, right," Hawkins conceded, "So anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, the Yanks got this intel on the prison camp, but they don't want to risk their spy. So... we're going to do the dirty work and make it look like the Chinese resistance did it."

"Which is why we need the extra help," Jasper added. "We can't have any 'vampire' deaths on this one. It all has to be done with bullets."

Hawkins jumped back in to close the deal. "So you see, Danny, we could really use your help. And of course, you'll get your fair portion of the bounty. It'll be a good first job for you. Whadda ya say? Are you ready to get your hands dirty?"

What could I say? They didn't really give me much of a choice in the matter.

"I suppose so..."

"Naw, c'mon, Danny, what sort of an answer is that? Are you on board with this or not?"

"Let's go shoot up some prison guards," I said with all the fake enthusiasm I could muster.

"You're gettin' there, Danny. We'll go with it. Your bags are packed, we leave in one hour."

An hour later, the five of us were loading into the back of a cargo truck on the side of the hotel, using the maintenance entrance. It still wasn't quite dawn yet, but we weren't going to risk being seen. Jasper handed me an olive drab duffel bag as I stepped into the truck, which contained a variety of basic combat gear and a Chinese military uniform.

No one said much on the trip out to the airfield except for Hawkins and Jasper, who were quietly discussing our plan of attack. Once we reached the airport, the truck backed into a covered hanger, and we boarded the plane, giving the flight instructions to our human pilot (who happened to be different from the one who had served us just a few hours earlier). In a matter of moments, we were taking off, heading westward over Central America toward our refueling point in Hawaii.

We stopped twice to refuel on our way to Burma – in Honolulu, and again at a small outpost in Northern Australia. How Hawkins got a military airfield to service our plane, I will never know, but it worked – we never had to get off the plane. We had timed things so that we would be arriving at the secret prison camp at about 1:00 am local time, which would give us the advantage of night vision, as well as leaving Persephone less mental clean-up work to do with the rescued hostages. Once we were in the air over the south Pacific en route to Burma, Hawkins pulled us all in for an overview of the mission.

The plan was relatively simple, though it did require a certain degree of timing. We were all going to parachute to our landing point, a small clearing in the dense jungle about forty miles south of the camp. The Chinese had set up a large weapons cache there with rifles, pistols, grenades, and a few machetes. Once we had acquired the weapons, we would travel on foot to the prison camp, kill the guards and extract the prisoners. It was a well-orchestrated plan; we all had our role to play. Hawkins and Jasper would stage a two-sided frontal attack on the camp, drawing the attention of the exterior guards. Persephone and I would sneak inside, eliminate the interior guards and secure the prisoners. Emilio would stay a safe distance back and monitor radio chatter to make sure we weren't caught off-guard by reinforcements.

With our assignments understood, we changed into our uniforms and put on our parachutes. Jasper came over to check on my equipment and explain how to operate the parachute, since I had never been skydiving with one before.

"Wouldn't it just be easier to go without a chute?" I asked after his brief tutorial on covert skydiving.

"Well, it would get you to the ground faster, but at that speed, you'd be knocked out cold for at least five minutes once you hit the ground. Not to mention the fact that somebody else would probably have to find your arms and legs and put you back together. And besides all of that, parachutes are much quieter. Your body hitting the ground at four hundred miles an hour would be as loud as it would be painful. Trust me, this is the best way to go."

I took his advice, and went along with the parachuting as planned. The five of us jumped in rapid succession over the landing point, converging there to gear up and get ready for the strike. The pilot was going to land the plane on a friendly runway about a hundred and fifty miles from our location. Once we secured the prisoners, we would commandeer a personnel transport and use it to carry them to the rendezvous point with the plane.

Hawkins went over the plan one more time as he handed out the weapons.

"Remember, no vampire deaths, got it? Every guy gets a couple bullets in 'em, and that's all. And if the blood starts to become too much for you, fall back. We don't want to have to clean up after any accidents."

He walked over to me, handing me a bolt-action rifle and a pair of worn-looking pistols. They weren't in great shape, but I was sure I could make the most out of them.

"You do know how to use one of these, right?" Hawkins asked as I took the guns in hand, "just point and shoot."

"Guns are a strength of mine," I said, happy to have something required of me that I was good at, "you've got nothing to worry about."

"Good," he replied dismissively, "then let's get going."

We covered the distance to the camp in no time, setting up a perimeter about a quarter-mile away. The outpost was somewhat primitive, given its apparent importance. A cluster of about fifteen tents were scattered across a small opening in the surrounding tree cover. There was a 12-foot barbed wire fence encircling the green canvas tents, with six armed guards patrolling along its length from the inside. In the background were three personnel carriers, a few trucks, and a motorcycle.

Hawkins and Jasper got into place on the eastern and western sides of the camp, while Persephone and I crept in close to the northern side of the fence. Once we were all in position, the firestorm started.

Hawkins opened fire on the guards patrolling the Eastern side of the fence, spreading bullets all over the place. As soon as the soldiers inside went in his direction, Jasper began attacking from the West. An alarm sounded, and armed guards began pouring out of the tents, dividing between the eastern and western fronts.

"Okay, now's our time," Persephone said to me in a whisper, "you ready to do this?"

I nodded, and we sprinted the forty yards to the fence, easily jumping over it. There was a guard running toward the west that spotted us as we came over the fence. He received a bullet between the eyes before our feet hit the ground.

"Nice shot," Persephone said, obviously impressed.

"Guns are a specialty of mine," I responded nonchalantly. "Now, let's get inside."

We quickly flashed from tent to tent, looking for the prisoners. Some were empty, some were still occupied by soldiers loading weapons. I tried to use non-lethal methods whenever possible, striking the soldiers with the butt of my rifle to render them unconscious. Persephone showed no such mercy, always using more bullets than necessary to incapacitate someone.

I was beginning to think we had been misinformed as we cleared the last few tents, finding no evidence of any prisoners. Then, in the next to last tent, we stumbled across something – literally. I tripped on a metal extrusion sticking up above the dirt floor in the tent. We quickly investigated the object, which happened to be a type of handle, and began clearing the dirt off of it, all while Hawkins and Jasper continued their front-line attack. Beneath the dirt, we uncovered a small metal door, which was locked tightly.

"That's where they're keeping the prisoners," I said, stating the obvious. "Should we just rip it open?"

"No, I have a better idea," Persephone replied, reaching into a pouch around her waist and pulling out a small explosive device, "after all, I don't think the Chinese could rip a solid-metal door off its hinges..."

"Good point," I replied, stepping back with her as we cleared the blast area. The well-placed explosive bursts destroyed the hinges of the door, allowing us to easily pull it open without demolishing everything in the area. There was a long, concrete shaft descending about thirty feet into the ground. I could hear voices shouting from the depths – they knew we were coming.

"Ladies first," I said with a hint of playfulness, stepping back to let her go down the tunnel.

"No, age before beauty," she countered with a wink. "Besides, I think you're probably the better shot."

"Alright, if you insist..."

I jumped down the shaft, bypassing the iron ladder built into the side. As soon as I landed, I was smothered in gunfire.

They were waiting for us to come.

I stepped forward, incapacitating the guards one at a time with well-placed shots. Persephone dropped down the shaft after me, also receiving heavy gunfire. She responded in kind, burning through all her rifle ammunition before drawing her pistols and continuing the led onslaught.

We systematically moved through the narrow cylindrical tunnels of the underground prison, easily dispatching the soldiers who resisted us. Things were going well until I picked up a shouted command among the jumble of Japanese chatter in the tunnels.

"They're after the Americans," the voice shouted. "Kill them. Now!"

"Persephone!" I shouted, grabbing her arm and pulling her in the direction of the shouting, "this way, quick. They're going to execute the prisoners."

I raced down a side hallway with Persephone right behind, never breaking stride as I shot down three guards that got in the way, dropping my now-empty rifle and drawing my pistols. There was a locked steel door at the end of the hallway, which I kicked open. There was no time for propriety – we could cover it up later. Upon entering the room, I found six guards scrambling to pull the American prisoners from their steel cages. I was able to hit two guards before they took cover; Persephone took out one of them, emptying four rounds of ammunition into him.

Before I could pursue the other three, I heard one of them shout to us in Japanese, "Lower your weapons! Lower your weapons, or we will kill the Americans!"

The three remaining guards slowly crept out from behind the concrete wall separating us from the prisoners' cells, each one holding a prisoner in front of them with a gun to their head.

"We can make this shot," I whispered to Persephone, too quietly for the guards to hear, "take the one on the left, I can handle the other two-"

"I'm out," she interjected before I could finish my sentence.

"What?"

"I'm out of ammunition. There's no time to reload..."

"Drop it! Drop it!" The guard in the middle shouted, thrusting the barrel of his gun against the side of his prisoner's head.

I was running out of time. I had to take them down myself.

In the split-second that followed, I devised a plan. I knew I could hit the first two guards before they could shoot their prisoners, but due to the limitations of the firing rate of my sub-par pistols, there was a likelihood that by the time I struck the third guard with a bullet, he would have a chance to shoot his prisoner. I would just have to slow his reflexes.

I reached out with my ability, pinching down on the middle guard's nervous system, and slowly lowered my guns. As soon as I saw a moment of hesitation in the guards, I struck, pulling my guns into position in a flash and firing a round through the head of each of the outside guards. I immediately pulled both guns to the middle and fired on the middle guard with the left gun, which was at a better angle. Another perfect shot put him on the ground, and the threat was neutralized. The prisoners stood still, in shock, no doubt, from the near-death experience. Persephone was also still, though for a different reason.

"Damn, Danny... you are a good shot," she said, thoroughly impressed. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

"I told you," I responded, somewhat proud of my accomplishment, "Guns are a specialty of mine."

Persephone reloaded her weapons and made a final sweep through the underground tunnels while I liberated the prisoners and tried to calm them down a bit. She returned a few moments later with Hawkins and Jasper, who were both smiling and laughing.

"Let me help you out a bit here, Danny," Hawkins said as he walked through the room, randomly shooting the dead bodies on the floor. "You're too good an aim, brother – remember, this is supposed to look like a bunch of civilian militia shot these guys up. Persephone told me what you did, though... nice work. See, you're a natural killer."

He winked.

I shuddered.

A 'natural killer' was the last thing I wanted to be. This was a strictly military operation, I reminded myself, curbing the urge to sink my teeth into one of the still-warm bodies on the floor. I'm not a murderer, I'm a soldier.

Hawkins and Jasper herded the prisoners back up to the surface, loading them into one of the personnel carriers while Persephone and I prepared to set fire to the camp. I noticed something somewhat disturbing while we were pouring gasoline on everything in sight – her uniform was tattered. No, 'tattered' is too light a word to describe it. 'Shredded,' perhaps. 'Destroyed.' The enemy bullet fire had torn so many holes in the olive green pants and shirt that she wore, it seemed like there were more holes than fabric. I forcefully diverted my eyes from her, apparently making too large a gesture out of it.

"What?" she asked as she paused in her work, eyebrows lowered slightly in irritated curiosity.

"Oh, um... nothing. Sorry..."

"What is it, Danny?" she said, a little more irritated.

"Well, it's just your... uh... uniform..."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"I fear the... um... structural integrity of your trousers may have been compromised... and that of your blouse as well."

"In English, please..."

"Your clothes are not doing a very good job of covering your... clothed areas."

If there was any blood left in my body, it would have all rushed to my cheeks. She paused for a moment before breaking out in laughter.

"Are you serious?" She asked amidst bursts of giggles.

"Yes. Quite."

"Oh, Danny, you really do need to get out more often..."

"I'm sorry," I blurted, growing more embarrassed by the second, "I know it's not your fault, it's just... well, it makes me..."

"Uncomfortable?"

"Yes. Very much so. Again, I'm sorry... I mean no offense..."

"Sorry it bothers you, Danny. I could take them off if you'd like..." She smiled teasingly. I was almost sure beads of sweat were forming on my brow.

"Um... uh... no – that's quite unnecessary-"

"I don't mind," she said innocently as she took a step closer, "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable..."

"Actually, I b-believe I'm feeling much... um... much better now..."

Then something strange happened. I had a momentary feeling of blurriness, after which I was standing about ten feet from where I had just been. I felt cold fingers release my head from behind.

"There, that's better," Persephone said, as she walked around to face me. She was dressed in the uniform of one of the fallen guards – it was ill-fitting, but at least it was intact.

"What... just happened?" I asked, a little afraid to learn the answer.

"I changed clothes, just like you asked."

We weren't close to any of the tents, and she couldn't have been out of my sight for three seconds. Something wasn't adding up.

"You changed clothes?"

"Uh, yeah. See?" She did a little twirl, showing off her new outfit.

"Just now?"

"Uh-huh."

"... where?"

"Well, right here, of course."

"Oh, dear God!" I gasped, stepping back as I realized what had just happened.

She laughed at me.

"You... you..." I sputtered, looking for the right words.

"I did exactly what you wanted. Don't worry, I wiped your memory. No harm done. I must admit, though, I'm flattered. I think you liked it."

I was shocked. And more than a little irritated.

"You... that's just... .wrong."

"It's not wrong, Danny. It's natural. You can't help it," she said with a wink.

"Persephone, that was totally over the line. I have no interest in you in that way. Please, try to restrain yourself..."

"Uhg! You're so old-fashioned, Danny. You're gonna have to learn to loosen up a bit."

We finished covering the camp as my anger simmered and slowly faded. After a few more minutes, we were ready to load onto the covered truck with the prisoners and escort them to our exit point. There was only one hold-up.

"Uh, guys..." Emilio said sheepishly as he rejoined us just outside the vehicle, "I think we may have a slight problem..."

"What?" Jasper and Hawkins said in unison.

"The plane that's supposed to be taking us home... I think it was just shot down."

"You're kidding..." Persephone said dryly.

"I heard a distress call from the plane... and a lot of Japanese radio chatter about shooting down a British aircraft..."

"Well, isn't that just splendid," Hawkins said in a bitter tone.

"What are we gonna do?" Emilio asked meekly.

"We'll get the humans to the drop point, and then we'll have to figure something else out. C'mon, we need to get moving before anything else goes wrong."

We moved swiftly through the dark jungle, tracing a pre-specified route northward across the border into friendly Chinese territory. There we unloaded the prisoners (after Persephone cleared their recent memory once more) and started looking for our new ride home. Actually, Hawkins started looking for a ride home. The rest of us were to stay put and wait.

He returned after about an hour with a partial solution.

"Alright, here's the situation. I purchased a decent-sized plane from the Chinese resistance. The only problem is, we still need to find a pilot we can hire. We may be stuck here for a day or two..."

"I can fly it," I interjected.

"What?"

"The plane – I can fly it."

"Since when are you a pilot?" Persephone asked skeptically.

"I learned to fly last year. I can pilot anything with two wings. Honestly, it's no problem. Just show me to the plane, and I can have us airborne in a matter of minutes."

The group was uncertain about it, but they really had no better option, so Hawkins took us to the plane and I got down to work. The aircraft was actually a Japanese one which must have been stolen or captured by the Chinese. After spending about two minutes getting acquainted with this particular model, I started up the engine, taxied down the runway, and we were on our way home. Hawkins was in the copilot seat next to me, watching my every move as we started the long flight home.

"Well, Danny, you're just full of surprises, aren't you?" He said to me with a smirk as we ascended to cruising altitude. "We're gonna have to put you to work more often."

"Glad to know I could help out," I said, simultaneously flattered and unnerved. I didn't really want to be a regular at this sort of thing – killing for money. And I most certainly didn't want to 'fit in' with this crowd. I was perfectly happy being 'old-fashioned.'

We gradually made our way back home, thanks in large part to several personal favors Hawkins was able to call in. He was better connected than anyone I had ever met. As soon as we were back in Havana, we checked in with Manuel, the company banker, to make sure we had received payment for our services. It was standard procedure for half of the payment to be paid in advance, with the remainder due when the job was completed. In this instance the payout was quite large – one hundred-eighty thousand dollars, wired directly from the United States government (through a maze of relays and aliases, of course).

Of that large paycheck, as was usually the case, thirty percent was reinvested in operating costs (i.e. hiring pilots and contact people, as well as keeping up the airstrip and all the company vehicles). The remaining portion was split between the five of us, with Hawkins getting a double-portion. Apparently, he was able to command a higher salary since this was his company to begin with, though I picked up on some bitterness on the subject, especially from Persephone. Still, my payout was quite sufficient. For three days' work, I was paid twenty-one thousand dollars, more than enough to recover all the money I had paid Hawkins for protection.

My first assassin job had been a success on many levels, the foremost of which (at least, for me) was the establishment of my best role in the company – the pilot. After the Burma job, I became the all-time pilot for all the jobs we received. It was a great job – one that worked out well for everyone. Hawkins, Jasper and Persephone had the advantage of a full-time, on-call pilot who could fly overnight without tiring and didn't present the temptation of a body full of warm blood. I got to work, travel and make money without ever having to kill anyone. My pay as a pilot was ten percent of the total mission take, which for me, was more than enough to make it worth my while. I was just happy to have a clear conscience.

The only one in the group that wasn't thrilled about my new job was Emilio, who now had to accompany us on every trip, whether Jasper and Persephone came along or not. Emilio was very much a home-body, as well as being a prolific worrier, so travel wasn't exactly his most natural state of being. On the positive side, though, the situation gave me the chance to get to know him better, which was a delight. He was, for the most part, a very decent and likable person, the kind that may not say much at first, but could talk at length if you chose the right subject of conversation.

Things fell into a much more likable routine over the next few months. Daylight hours were still spent in training, where I continued to thrive. Nighttime hours were still spent partying, which I continued to loathe. The difference was in the jobs – I was gone several times a month, to all corners of the globe. I flew the team to Argentina, Sweden, South Africa and India, all in my first month as a pilot. We also did recreational activities together as a group, including 'vampire' skydiving every other weekend. It was a fantastic schedule, so I was a little surprised whenever Hawkins suggested a departure from it.

We had recently received a job order to take down a rogue vampire who had been killing newborns (newborn vampires, not humans) in Eastern Europe. He was scheduled to meet with an associate in Kiev, Ukraine on June 19, and we were going to ambush and exterminate him there. Well, Jasper and Hawkins were going to exterminate him – I was just the transportation. The difference about this particular job was that the target date was nearly three weeks away, and Hawkins happened to have an old friend residing in the general area. Consequently, we traveled to Ukraine over two weeks early, putting our other jobs on hold and taking a long holiday with Hawkins' friend, Navi.

Ukraine wasn't exactly an ideal backdrop for a holiday. As badly as the English cities had been ravaged by the war, Kiev was worse – by far. Navi lived in a small town about twenty miles from the city, one of many homes in his rotation. It was a simple place, especially coming from the lap of luxury in Havana, but it did have a quiet serenity about it, something I appreciated.

Much of our group's time on holiday was spent swimming in the river, gambling, and of course, hunting. Once we had been with Navi for a few days, I better understood why Hawkins would want to spend an extended amount of time in the country – there was a nearly-endless supply of displaced humans to feed off of. Coming from the heavily-monitored feeding grounds in Belgium and Havana, I wasn't used to such freedom when it came to hunting practices. Hawkins and Persephone took a victim every single night, ravaging the nearby villages and quickly expanding into Kiev. The rest of us kept to a normal routine, feeding as little as necessary (which fore me, was not at all). I expected such behavior out of Jasper, but I was pleasantly surprised to see Emilio keep his killing to one single outing. It made me wonder if the the moral convictions Jasper and I held were beginning to rub off on him.

I wasn't really the gambling type, and swimming grew old quickly, so I tried to make the most of my holiday by escaping into the duffel bag-full of books I brought with me. It was a worthwhile venture – I learned to speak Finnish in the first five days of the trip, and started on Korean after that. Most daylight hours, I was alone in one of the small bedrooms of Navi's house, immersed in language study. It was during one of these afternoons that I received a rather unwelcome gift.

"Danny!" A voice called from the gathering room, disrupting my studies. It was Hawkins.

"Yes?" I answered, trying to mask the mild irritation in my voice.

"Come here a minute, there's something I want to show you."

I marked my spot in the book I was reading, and walked into the large room of the house, reminding myself not to be annoyed – after all, I had been something of a recluse over the last few days. All the others were in the room, seated on a mismatched assortment of chairs Navi had pulled from the damaged building in the area. All, that is, except for Emilio, who was lying on the ground in the corner of the room.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked as I approached the group, somewhat confused over their apparent lack of concern.

"Nothing," Hawkins said with a slight smile. "He's sleeping."

"He's... what?" That can't be right... vampires don't sleep...

"Sleeping. For the last fifteen minutes or so."

"How is that... possible..."

"Navi has a gift," Jasper explained, sensing my confusion and trepidation. "He can cause a drowsiness in vampires so heavy that they can actually go into a sleep-like state."

"Sometimes they even dream," Navi added in his thick accent, one I was never able to place. "It's quite a remarkable experience, I'm told. Would you like to try it?"

I wasn't sure I wanted to try anything from our mysterious host. There was just something about him that seemed a bit 'off.'

"Um... I... think I'll pass on this one. Thank you."

"Aww, c'mon, Danny. Everyone else has tried it. You don't really want to be the only one left out, do you?" Hawkins wasn't one to take 'no' for an answer. He looked at Jasper and nodded his head slightly in my direction.

"Jasper, don't..." I started to protest, but before I could finish my sentence, my apprehension melted into a giddy curiosity.

"It won't hurt, Danny. I promise." Jasper smiled warmly, increasing his influence on my emotions.

"Well, I suppose I could try it..." I conceded.

"Wonderful," Navi said with a smile. "Let me have a look at you, and we will get started."

The tall, lanky vampire came over to me, and stared directly into my eyes, his single, connected eyebrow drawing in with concentration. After a moment, he smiled and had me sit in one of his chairs.

"I want you to close your eyes and relax," he said in a soft, even tone. "You're going to feel yourself becoming very drowsy, and possibly a slight bit confused. Do not fight it, just allow the sensations to come."

I closed my eyes and tried to relax as he bent over and began whispering in my ear. I didn't recognize the language he was speaking – it sounded somewhere between a Slavic and Nordic tongue. I did recognize the sensations that began to work in my body, though. I was becoming very drowsy. The whispers started to meld together in my ear as my body began to feel heavier. I had a mild sensation like I was floating in some kind of heavy cream, weightless but still pulled on by gravity. And then, everything went dark.

I squinted my eyes as the sun peeked through the fluffy clouds overhead, pouring warm light over the clear water that surrounded me, glittering like diamonds in response. I couldn't quite remember the details of how I got into the small rowboat that floated lazily on the glassy lake, but that didn't seem to bother me – I knew there was a perfectly normal explanation. The view around me was stunning – green mountains bordered the lake on three sides, contrasting with the deep blue of the sky above them. On the fourth side was a grassy meadow, its high strands and tall flowers bending gracefully in the gentle breeze. A small flock of white birds flew overhead, occasionally blending in with the white-cotton clouds that dotted the sky. It was all lovely, but of course, none of it could compare to the most breathtaking sight that blessed my eyes.

Coraline.

Her pearly skin shimmered in the daylight, tickling my eyes with a prism of reflected sunbeams. She wore an orange and white floral sun dress that embraced her exquisite figure like a rose petal, light as cotton, smooth as silk. Her long, red hair danced in the breeze, retaining its perfect curls with every movement. My gaze must have lingered on her face a bit too long, for she cocked that perfect head to the side slightly, her face wearing a shy smile.

"What?" She asked with pleasant curiosity, her angelic voice echoing off the water like a one-note symphony.

"You're so... beautiful," I said, stroking her cheek tenderly with the back of my fingers as my hand moved to embrace her heavenly face.

Her smile widened as her eyes locked with mine. They were so warm and welcoming, a rich hazelnut brown with the tiniest little gold flecks that sparkled ever so subtly.

"I love you," she said sweetly, soaking my entire being in warm happiness, "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you earlier..."

"That's alright, my dear," I said, still holding her head gently, "I've always known. A love like ours could never be obscured by words or the absence thereof."

She pulled in close to me, laying her head against my chest.

"Promise me we'll never part again," she said softly, "promise we'll be together always..."

"I promise," I whispered to her, wrapping my arms around her gently, "always, forever. To the end of the world..."

I closed my eyes and drank in the feelings, allowing the world around me to blur into the background. Gradually, the chirping of the birds, the lapping of the waves and the whispers of the breeze faded to stillness, perfect stillness. Everything was quiet. Everything was calm.

And then I heard a familiar voice I didn't expect.

"Hey, I think he's coming out of it..."

What... who's... Emilio? What? My mind stumbled through a progression of thoughts like a drunkard. I could no longer feel the heat of the sun, the gentle swaying of the rowboat. Instead, there was a cold, hard floor underneath me. I struggled to open my eyes, rolling onto my back and groaning softly. I slowly looked around me, my spirits sinking as an unfortunate reality greeted me.

"Welcome back, Rip Van Winkle," Jasper said with a smirk as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay? You were down for a long time..."

In a moment it all came back to me – Navi, the 'sleep' experience... dreaming. I was only dreaming. All the warmth and happiness rushed out of me like air from a balloon. I was still in Ukraine with the Havana coven. It was all an illusion.

"How long was I out?" I asked, rubbing my eyes like a sleepy toddler.

"Just short of seven hours," Jasper answered. "We were starting to get a little concerned. Navi said he must have put you in deeper than he realized."

"Seven hours? Is that long?"

"The rest of us were asleep for a half hour at most. Guess you were tired..." He slapped my shoulder firmly with a chuckle.

"Where are the others?" I asked, still a little disoriented from my venture into the vampire subconscious.

"They went to Riga for a few days to try the hunting up there. They'll be back in time to pick up the target."

"So you two stayed behind..."

"We're not that big on hunting," Emilio explained.

"Besides, we weren't going to let you stay here and waste away your vacation all alone," Jasper added. "You've been holed up in that room too long. It's time to get you out and back into society."

They were right – I had been spending too much time alone. As much as I missed my friends from Belgium, Jasper and Emilio were my friends, too. Friends who were proving more faithful than I expected.

It was half-past nine o'clock in the evening when we left the run-down house, heading into Kiev to fill the rest of the night with whatever entertainment we could find. It was a most welcome diversion – the dream of Coraline had so captivated me that it was difficult to think of much else. Despite the best effort of my friends to distract me, I found myself thinking of her at every pause and lull in the action.

We stayed in Kiev all night and into the cloudy morning that followed, playing random games, walking through half-razed buildings, rummaging through the remains of tanks and other war machines. Despite the variety of Jasper and Emilio's distractions, the memory of my dream began to take an even stronger hold on me. I began seeing her face – Coraline's beautiful face – everywhere I went. Once, it would be on the face of a young Ukrainian woman on the street. Another time, it would be in the dirty reflection of a window. Next, it would be smiling at me from the depths of a dark alley. So powerful was my memory of her, so lingering the image of her face in my dream, that I began to fear I was losing my mind. The only cure was to stay occupied, so we did. At my request (though with no contest from Jasper or Emilio) we traveled eastward, stopping by the war-torn cities that crossed our path as we made our way to Moscow. Every town we visited produced the same result – more of Coraline's face, looking at me longingly, teasing me with an empty hope.

The hallucinations were growing so bad that by the time we reached Moscow, I had a half a mind to turn around and go back, afraid of losing it completely in such a public place. Ultimately, I decided against it, out of respect for the two friends that made the rather long journey on foot at my request.

It was late morning when we reached the city, and the dense cloud cover overhead afforded us free reign of the nation's capital. For all the death and destruction that marred the western soviet stated, Moscow seemed relatively intact. The Russians had officially won their war with Germany just a month earlier, and already, there was life in the city again. People swarmed by on foot and in automobiles, busy setting things back into motion for a normal life.

Most of the day went much better than expected. We explored the historical sights of the city, struck up conversations with commoners to hone our mastery of the language (okay, so I was the only one who derived any enjoyment from it), we even browsed through a few little shops that had recently reopened. There was no sign of the hallucinations, no thought or memory I couldn't lasso and restrain. Everything was going perfectly until we started to make our way back, crossing through the old city square as we went.

The large, paved opening was swarming with people scurrying about from place to place, some entering or leaving the tall buildings that bordered the square on every side, others, like myself, just passing through. Curiosity took hold of me as I worked my way through the crowd of busy humans, and I began to take note of every face as it passed me by. Some wore expressions of concentration or irritation, others looked as if they were eager to get to wherever they were going, still others seemed pleasantly detached, keeping their own slow pace. The bulk of the pedestrians that crossed my path, though, wore the same face – one of dull apathy. One not unlike my own. My thoughts turned inward, scolding myself for acting so somber around my friends as I continued to scan faces.

And then a startling sight stole the whole of my attention.

Across the sea of faces, I saw one reach out to me, shining across the mass of humanity like a lone star on a cloudy night.

Coraline.

Her brilliant red hair flowed freely in the gusting wind, framing her angelic face like a flock of fiery butterflies. I craned my neck, pushing my way through the crowd around me to get a better look, keeping my eyes fixed on the glorious sight. She, too, stopped – as if, by some magic, she knew I was watching her, and with a universe of emotion in her eyes, she looked across the square at me.

There is no word for the gravity of the feelings that seized my heart.

We locked eyes for one perfect second, two opposite forces, frozen in time while the world moved around us. And then, as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone, disappearing back into the endless crowd of dull faces. I stood there, motionless, for an indeterminate amount of time, until a strong hand grabbed my shoulder, shaking me out of my delirium.

"Danny!" Jasper's deep voice spoke like subdued thunder, "What's going on?"

"I... I saw..." I muttered, trying to reconcile my thoughts.

"Are you okay? You just froze... people are starting to stare. C'mon, let's get you out of here..."

He put his arm around my shoulders, leading me to the near end of the square and meeting up with Emilio for the long walk back to Navi's house. It wasn't until we were passing through the borders of the city that I realized what had happened. I had seen another vision, stronger than before. More like a waking dream than a mere hallucination. A small degree of fear started to creep into the back of my mind as the three of us traveled hastily back to our temporary home.

The visions were getting stronger.

Once Navi and the others returned from their visit to Riga, we explained the whole thing to them, and Navi apologized profusely. Lingering effects from dreams were not common in his experience, but they were not unheard of. There was nothing he could do to alleviate them; only time would remedy the problem. Consequently, I stayed behind while Jasper, Hawkins and Persephone eliminated the target, and as soon as the work was done, we went straight to Havana.

The group was eager for me to 'recover' so they could be comfortable enough with my mental stability to use me for overseas jobs again. I, on the other hand, was perfectly comfortable with my instability. Every long, quiet moment I had to myself became an opportunity to slip back into a portion of that wonderful dream in the boat with Coraline. Of course, every time, I would awaken, only to find myself depressed all over again, wallowing for a while in my surrounded loneliness. It was an unpleasant awakening, to be sure, but it wasn't enough to stop me from allowing the dream to take me again. I was like an addict, drawn again and again to the numbing effects of wine and strong spirits, even with the foreknowledge of the misery that awaits him in the morning.

The side-effects didn't matter – I had to keep dreaming. If a dream was the closest I would ever come to seeing and touching Coraline again, then I would live in that dream as long as I possibly could.

9. CONVERSATIONS

- - - CORALINE GRAY - - -

HARRIET AND I HAD BEEN BEST FRIENDS FOR THE PAST EIGHTEEN

years – practically since the day we met. I knew her better than anyone else on earth.

Well, I used to.

By the middle of June 1946, I was beginning to wonder if I knew her at all. The fun, bubbly, adorably ditsy Harriet I used to know was nowhere to be found. Instead, my spicy best friend was more like a bowl of lukewarm mashed potatoes. No gravy, no salt, no flavor.

Bland.

That's the word that kept coming to my mind when I thought about her. Bland. I would have understood if she was somber, moody, bitter, angry... I mean, she lost her true love, her soulmate. He was dead, gone forever. I would have understood a lot of emotional states she could have slipped into, but instead, she was just... there. I guess neutrality was her weird way of dealing with it all – I just didn't understand it.

Every interaction with my sister was dull and predictable, like her life had gone from romance novel to news report. She never talked about Wesley anymore, not that I talked to her much in the first place. Her training had ended a while back, and she was out being 'useful' more often than she was around.

Now that she talked about a lot.

Athens, Boston, Buenos Aires... She was circling the globe like some kind of international superstar, and meanwhile, I was cooped up in this underground palace built on servitude to three humongous egos. I'll admit it – I was a little jealous. Okay, a lot jealous. I hadn't seen the surface for six months – my life was so monotonous it was painful. Any time something out of the ordinary happened – anything – it was a relief.

One of these "happenings" was a monthly visit from the third outpost guards, Conwell and Edgar. Of course, they didn't come to visit me, they came to check in with Demetri and get their new assignments. The Volturi kept twelve pairs of guards stationed across the region surrounding the city, sort of an 'outer perimeter' of security. Every month, they would rotate to a different location, which was the main reason for their visit.

Conwell was really quiet – out of shyness, I think. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Edgar, though, he was always up for a good conversation. It was a lifesaver. He was one of the only people I felt like I could talk to, especially after Harriet started going all 'numb' on me. I waited patiently outside Demetri's meeting hall for the guys to come out, eager for a real conversation and my monthly spot of interest. And boy, what an interesting conversation it was.

"Hey Edgar, Conwell," I began, putting on my best 'perky and chipper' impression (nobody wants to talk to a mopey depressed vampire), "how are things going on the outside?"

I knew something was up before I had even finished my sentence. Edgar was tense... uncomfortable. Something was definitely 'off' about him. He didn't waste any time filling me in, as the three of us began the long walk back to the central foyer.

**Listen closely, Coraline. I need to talk to you alone, but I may not have the chance.**

"Oh, well... it's about the same as it always is – lots of waiting, little action," he responded in an audible voice before continuing to put words in my head.

**Do you think you can keep up a believable conversation while we're around Conwell? While listening in your head, of course. If so, ask me how the weather has been.**

Great. This'll be interesting... "So, I haven't been topside in six months. What's the weather like now? Pretty hot, I'd imagine..."

**Good girl. Okay, now pay attention, and try not to react.**

"It is a little warm... and much sunnier," Conwell said in his thin voice, "we have to..." **Are you going to see Philippe today? If so, run your fingers through your hair.**

I turned to Conwell, brushing my hair out of my face as I addressed him sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that last part? Sometimes the strangest thoughts just pop into my head out of nowhere, and I kinda get distracted." I shot a quick glare at Edgar to make sure he caught my meaning. "You were saying you have to..."

"We uh... we have to be more covert moving around in the summer months."

**Sorry. I'll try to wait my tu-**

"Oh, of course," I interrupted this time. "Well, at least you've got those great robes to make it a little easier."

"It's not as easy as you think," Edgar responded slowly, as if he was choosing his words carefully, "most people don't understand why we're so secretive, why we choose to keep covered up like that."

**Don't react, okay. Wesley is alive.**

"What?" I stopped walking and just stared at Edgar in disbelief. I totally threw the 'don't react' bit out the window. He didn't tell me it would be that kind of information, and seriously, how did he expect me to act?

**Coraline, you need to get a hold of yourself. You can't let on that we're having this conversation.**

Edgar's mental voice was calm but stern. As unfair as it was, I had to try to act like I hadn't just heard that my brother-in-law was still alive after six months of thinking he was dead – not an easy task.

I deserved an explanation.

"What... um... what do you tell people when they ask why you keep everything so secret? I'll bet they get pretty upset about it sometimes..."

If we were going to have that conversation, it was going to go both ways.

**Coraline, not now. Please...**

"We try to keep things as vague as possible. For their protection, of course. The secrets we keep would put other people in a tremendous amount of danger. We would rather they be safe and oblivious than put their lives in jeopardy by knowing such things."

Edgar was trying to salvage some sense of 'believability' in the conversation. I was too emotional to put that much effort in.

"But don't you think people deserve to know the truth – even if it's dangerous? Don't you get tired of lying?"

**He's been following the search parties, trying to make sure they don't find your friend Grant. And of course, trying to avoid detection himself.**

"We're vampires, Coraline. Keeping secrets comes with the job."

**Wesley's lost the trail. I need you to see if you can find out from Philippe where the search is pointed right now. Do you think you can do that? Brush shoulders with me if-**

"You know, guys, I should go get Harriet," I interrupted. "She would love to hear what you have to say. About the weather, of course..."

I narrowed my eyes and shot an accusing look at Edgar. How could he know this and let her go on living like a shadow? How long has he known about this? From the beginning?

Edgar's uneasiness grew to a slightly panicked irritation.

"No, don't bother her with our stories – I'm sure she's busy enough working alongside Chelsea and Felix... and Demetri. Besides, you know how she can be – once she gets on a subject she's emotional about, she never can keep her mouth shut about it."

He snuck back an intense, concerned glare while Conwell turned his head to greet someone passing by.

**You cannot tell Harriet. She couldn't handle it. Not now. Please, just find out what you can from Philippe...**

"Okay," I conceded, trying to keep to the 'cover' conversation as much as possible. "I guess you're right about her. Besides, you two have a pretty tight schedule to keep to, right? Wouldn't want to hold you up..."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

**When you find something out, if you're able to, get to a pay phone and dial 'zero three eight, seven four, eight one eight four.' Tell the person on the other line everything you learn. And whatever you do, do not use any telephone in this compound – they're all being monitored.**

We were just walking into the foyer – the farthest I was allowed to go with them, which left me little time to work out a better contact option. The whole 'pay phone' thing was going to be a problem.

"Well, fellas, this is where I say goodbye. I really wish I could come visit you sometime, but they never let me out of here. Not even for a moment. So..."

**You're just going to have to find a way, Coraline. Wesley and Grant's lives may depend on it. I'm sorry. I wish there was another way**

"That's alright," I said, half-answering Edgar's mental statement. "I'm sure they'll let me out for some fresh air sooner or later. Have a good month on patrol..."

"We will," Edgar said as they turned to walk away. "Look forward to talking to you again soon."

**Very soon, I hope.**

I stood there for an awkward moment in the large marble foyer, trying to process all the thoughts that were running wild in my head. Wesley is alive! Oh, poor Harriet! If only she knew... Edgar's right, though... if I told her, there's no way she could keep it a secret. But then, maybe she doesn't have to. Maybe if he came in voluntarily, turned himself over to the authorities... he could explain his side of the story – and maybe they would let him go. No, that's too many 'maybe's.' I have to try this Edgar's way... but how?

I eventually left the foyer and headed back to my room to think some more, trying to come up with some realistic chance of sneaking out to make a phone call. That is, if I was able to find anything out from Philippe in the first place. I thought through every escape route that even seemed possible, and none of the options were good. The actual odds of me making it out without getting caught were slim at best.

By the end of the afternoon, I decided to put off worrying about the 'how' of the operation and worry about the 'what.' Philippe would be in soon, and there wasn't much point in worrying about making a phone call if there was nothing to report. I dug into my closet and found a fresh outfit – one he hadn't seen before – and took a few minutes to get dolled up before he came by. It was Monday, and Philippe always came by on Mondays to pay me a visit.

When the war in Europe ended, Philippe was recalled to Volterra and reassigned to keep the peace in Northern Italy. He was in and out of the catacombs often, most predictably on Mondays. It had become a sort of unspoken appointment that he and I had every week at 6pm. He would stop by, bring me some sort of gift, talk incessantly about everything he was doing on the outside, and otherwise try to woo and impress me.

Being around him was never comfortable, but I couldn't really tell him to stop coming. As pathetic as it seemed, I craved the company. And besides that, I knew if there was any chance of me getting any favors around here, it would be through him.

A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts as I finished subduing my unruly hair, catching me a little by surprise.

"Coraline? Are you in there?" The baritone voice called out from the other side of the heavy wooden door.

Ugh! He's... what time is it? He's twenty minutes early! Grrr.

"Um, hang on just a minute, okay? I'll be right there..."

I had been trying to get my hair to cooperate all day, and it just wasn't willing to go along with any of my plans. I was just about ready to throw it back into a ponytail when the doorknob turned and Philippe eased through the doorway.

"Come now, my dear, there's no need for formalities. Can a rose look more splendid than mother nature has already adorned her?" He said with his usual, silky delivery, half his body still outside the room.

"Roses don't have hair," I replied as I gave up and let the stupid strands fall where they wanted to.

"Ah... Coraline. Beauty, wit, and sarcasm. Who could ask for more? Honestly, my sweet, you look divine. Forget about the hair. Aren't you the least bit curious as to the nature of today's gift for you?"

Flattery.

Pure, unconcealed spoken sugar. He knew I could see right through it, and yet, he kept on saying things like that, in the hopes that it would eventually wear me down. Which... really proved how much he didn't know me. Honesty goes a long way with me, even if it's not always pretty. Flattery... not so much. The same could be said about cliché romantic gifts. And yet, again, here was Philippe, stepping through the doorway with three dozen white roses.

"Oh, more roses," I said with exaggerated appreciation as he handed the large bouquet over to me. "They're beautiful, Philippe. Thank you. I'll put them with the others..."

He was a little insecure about the gift, and wanted to qualify it with an explanation.

"I know 'white' isn't exactly the most endearing color for a rose, but I believe I've already gifted you with every other hue in existence."

"Yes, I believe you have," I replied, masking the sarcasm in my tone. Roses, roses, roses. Every time, it was the same. Of course, most girls wouldn't be so opposed to having fresh flowers delivered to their room every week (especially if they lived underground), but the flowers were more of an offense than a delight. Not that I disliked roses, but they would be far down on my list of favorite flowers. A little variety would have been nice – daisies, perhaps, or maybe lilies... even carnations. No, roses were Philippe's favorite, which was the core problem.

It was all about him.

All the visits, the words, the flowers – it wasn't because he wanted to get to know me, it was because he wanted to possess me. I was an object to him, a trophy to carry around on his arm like the Volturi wives.

As silly as it may sound, the roses were a sort of symbol of the whole artificial romance with Philippe... and a reminder of everything that I lost in Grant. He used to sneak out in the early morning, before the sun was up, and pick a handful of wildflowers from the woods outside our house. They were always so modest, wild and unruly, but they were beautiful. They were a picture of his heart, and that was beautiful.

I sighed faintly as I placed the manicured white roses in one of the numerous vases Philippe had purchased for me, arranging the offensive little buds as best I could. Unfortunately, he heard me.

"What's the matter, my dear? Does the color not suit you? It's not a problem, really. I'll order another three dozen to be sent down here at once – in whatever color tickles your fancy."

"No, the roses are fine, it's... it's just..." Great. What am I supposed to say now? Think, Coraline. It's just what?

"What? What's bothering you?" He asked, feigning concern. I couldn't exactly tell him what was really bothering me, but I had backed myself into a corner – I needed something plausible to say. And then it hit me. Perfect!

"It's just... I was thinking about Harriet today, how lonely she is... It's too bad Wesley had to go like that. I feel bad for both of them."

"Bad? You shouldn't feel bad for them at all," He replied, somewhat relieved, as if my depression was something trivial. "Harriet may have been heartbroken at first, but I can assure you, she's in a much better place now. She has friends, purpose, potential... things that never would have happened while Pemberton was around. And I wouldn't feel bad for him, either. If anyone deserved to be struck down in the whole conflict, it was him."

"What? How can you say that? None of that was Wesley's fault." I was suddenly angrier than I was prepared for.

"You're kidding, right? Everything was his fault. Who do you think the common bond was between the two antagonists? Coraline, dear," he said, as he placed his hand on my shoulder in a patronizing sort of way, "I know you thought of him as a friend, but trust me, I knew him far longer than you did. Pemberton has always stirred up trouble wherever he's been. I often wondered if he was spending all that time around you two just so he could make a play on Harriet's ability, much like Rodney tried to. I don't feel bad at all. His death on the battlefield saved me the trouble of having to hunt down two fugitives. It was a blessing in disguise."

Well, so much for my theory about Wesley turning himself in...

"So, speaking of hunting fugitives," I countered, trying not to think about how much trouble Wesley was in if he were to be discovered, "how's the big search coming? Have you gotten any closer to finding that guy?" Please say no...

"Uhg! No," he replied, visibly frustrated, "unless you count all the places I haven't found him as progress. I must admit, the brute's smarter than I gave him credit for. He's hiding somewhere off the grid. I've got every regional captain in Europe looking for him, and he's nowhere to be found. It's quite frustrating, actually. Of all the tasks Aro could have given me, all the things my extensive abilities would have suited me for... I work my fingers to the bone for those three big-shots, and what do I get in return? A fool's errand. A dead-end street. I'm half-convinced they tasked me with this ridiculous chase just to keep me running in circles while others are promoted ahead of me."

He paused a moment, suddenly aware of his bitter monologue, and changed his posture, taking on a more calm demeanor.

"Sorry, my dear," he said after a long exhaled breath, "I suppose I got myself carried away."

"That's alright," I replied, looking for a way to extend the subject. There was still vital information I needed out of him before we talked about something else. "It's understandable for you to be frustrated. It's not an easy job. You are making progress, though. I mean, you know a lot of places where this fugitive isn't... I'm sure you're closing in on him. You said he's 'off the grid' in Europe, right? So, have you ever thought he may have escaped off the continent? Maybe south across the Mediterranean, or east into India and the Orient..."

"Or west across the Atlantic," He added with a frustrated sigh. "Yes, I've thought of all those possibilities. Now you can see how absurd a task this really is."

"So, have you sent search parties overseas yet?"

"Yes, Coraline, I'm not an idiot." He was getting upset by the excessive questioning – interpreting my inquisitiveness as criticism. I wanted to stop talking about this as much as he did, but not before I learned what I needed to.

"Sorry, Philippe, I don't mean to imply that you are... I'm just so interested by the whole thing. Have they gone anywhere exciting yet?"

"Exciting?"

"Yeah, you know, Bejing, Los Angeles, Rio De Janero..."

"I don't know about 'exciting,' but they have been in quite a few different locations – Egypt, Kenya, Congo, Syria, India, Cambodia... I've looked all over."

"Wow, I guess you have. So, where are they now? China? South Africa? Indonesia?"

"Saigon. Why are you so curious?" He was growing suspicious – I was afraid to push the inquisitions any further.

"No reason, really," I answered, trying to diffuse the situation, "I'm just interested in what interests you."

"Well then," He said, again changing his countenance, "let's talk about something a little more positive."

We talked for the next two and a half hours, covering all sorts of topics related to vampire politics and the changing European climate after the war. I say 'we' talked, but actually, it was more like he talked and I listened, adding the appropriate nod and 'uh-huh' whenever necessary. Once again I was reminded of how self-centered he really was.

Eventually, Philippe checked his watch, grimacing somewhat before slowly rising to his feet.

"It's almost eight-thirty," he said with a hint of regret. "I'd best be going, lots of work to tend to tonight."

"Of course," I replied, standing and walking with him to my doorway. "Thanks for stopping by... and for the roses."

"You're quite welcome, my dear," he said, looking me directly in the eyes. "Have a pleasant week."

He moved in swiftly to give me a soft kiss on the cheek, and I turned away, as I always did. I was willing to put up with a lot for this guy, but kissing was crossing the line. He recoiled smoothly, cocking his head slightly with a confounded expression.

"Ah, Coraline... how many mountains must I climb for one kiss? Would you have me buy you the whole world for a simple gesture of affection?"

"I told you, Philippe, we're 'just friends,' and 'just friends' don't kiss each other."

"Yes, and how long is that distinction going to last? Have I not been sufficiently generous to you? Your clothes, your jewelry and flowers and such things... not to mention the gift of continuing your life after the Malmedy debacle. I should think such things would earn me at least a kiss on the cheek every once in a while..."

I was about to begin another speech about how my affections weren't for sale, no matter what the price (it wouldn't have been the first time I talked to him about it), but I suddenly had a better idea present itself to me.

"Everything you've done for me has been wonderful," I said sweetly, trying to be both coy and endearing, "I love the gifts, and of course, the company. But... you know what I would really like?"

"What? Name it, and it will be yours." He smiled wryly, eager to play the game of catch with me.

"I've been underground for six months without so much as a glimpse at the sky (okay, so I lied a little, but it sounded more dramatic that way). I would love to get out of here, just for a while. But, of course, that's probably asking too much, even for someone with your abilities..."
"Too much? Coraline, my dear girl, you underestimate the gravity of my influence. How soon would you like to go?"

It was working. He was thrilled to get an opportunity to show off and gain my favor. I was getting one step closer to a pay phone.

"Is tomorrow too soon?"

He smiled. "For a lesser man, perhaps. I'll have someone pick you up first thing in the morning."

And that's exactly what he did.

10. IMPROVISING

A GENTLE TAPPING ON MY DOOR DISTURBED MY SOLITARY

reading around 6:00am.

"Miss Gray? Are you in?" A timid voice asked after a short pause.

I closed my book, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, and placed it in the fiction section of the extensive library Philippe was building for me. Yes, he bought me those, too. I opened my door to find a young woman – a human – waiting to speak with me. A long, gray cloak was folded over one of her arms.

I had never seen a human this far underground. Normally, the few humans the Volturi employed stayed in the business-like lobbies near the surface. I could understand why she seemed a little scared. She should have been – she smelled amazing. In a tasty way, of course. I hadn't fed in nearly two weeks, and I almost thought about fixing that problem with her help.

Almost.

"I'm supposed to have you try this on and make sure it was tailored correctly... a-and also to tell you to be in the west ballroom at seven o'clock sharp to prepare to leave."

"Wonderful. Thanks."

I took the cloak and tried it on; it fit perfectly, as if it had been made just for me – which was probably the case. After thanking the girl again, I took a few moments to ready myself for a trip to the outside world, and headed up to the west ballroom (which was still several stories underground) a little early. I was nervous – the idea of sneaking around to find a telephone on my one chance to go above ground in half a year didn't thrill me.

I was soon joined in the large, tapestry-covered ballroom by a couple of tall vampires, both in gray cloaks like mine. They walked to me in perfect unison, their faces expressionless as they floated across the multi-faceted marble floor.

"Are you Coraline Gray?" One of the men asked me with a smooth British accent.

"I am..." I replied hesitantly. There was something about their cold precision that was intimidating.

"Excellent," The British one replied. "We'll be leaving in five minutes. My associate here will get you up to speed on the...um, rules, I guess you would say."

With that, he turned and started walking away. I shifted my attention to his 'associate,' who, I suddenly realized, was standing uncomfortably close to me. He was a large man, at least 6'5" and thick – not necessarily muscular, but definitely not overweight. His face and head were clean-shaven, which only made his strong, thin black eyebrows stand out even more against the pale-yet-tan backdrop of his skin. I assumed he was from a middle-eastern heritage, which he pretty much solidified when he spoke.

"Before we get started, I'm going to need to do a full body cavity search. Please remove your clothing and stack it over there next to the wall."

"Um...wh...what?" A sudden shock of surprise (and dread) ran over me like a bucket of cold water, as a thousand thoughts buzzed in my mind in an instant. Is he serious? I can't... I'm not doing that! Especially not in front of him. What kind of outing is this? A full body cavity search? O, God, you've got to be kidding me. Maybe I don't have to go after all... I could find another way out...

The man pulled out a rubber glove and began stretching it over his large, scary-looking hand, his face cold and stern. I continued to sputter out random syllables that were supposed to mean something like 'what?'

And then, all of a sudden, he started laughing. And I don't mean snickering, chuckling, giggling – I mean, big, loud, belly-laughs. It was so loud and abrupt that it startled me, which caused me to take a little hop backwards, which caused him to laugh even harder. After a few seconds of 'hilarity,' he calmed down enough to talk again.

"You should have seen the look on your face. Priceless! Really had you going there for a minute, eh? Ha HA! Oh, don't worry, I was only kidding."

He took off the glove and patted me on the shoulder with his big arm, while a toothy smile stretched across his face.

"I hope you don't mind my little joke," he continued in his thick accent – middle-eastern to be sure. "There's not enough humor in this place, you know what I mean? Everyone's so somber and serious."

"Um... yeah, no problem." I was just relieved he was kidding.

"So, I'm supposed to instruct you on our system of rules and regulations for prisoner outings, but first, allow me to more properly introduce myself. My name is Abu Makarim Azizah al-Jameel ibn Nidh'aal ibn Abdul Masih aal-Filisteeni... but my friends call me Moses."

"Wow. Well, nice to meet you, Moses." I replied, extending my hand to shake his. He grabbed it, pulled me in, and hugged me so tightly it almost hurt.

"I'm a hugger," he said with another smile as he released me. "Hope it doesn't bother you. So, about the rules..." his smile faded and his face turned stern again. "You may want a pen and paper, it's pretty complicated. Are you ready?"

"Um... paper? I didn't think to bring anyt-"

"Don't run away." He smiled again. "Okay, so now that I've explained the rules to you, we're ready to meet Trent at the west elevator. Follow me."

This has got to be the strangest middle-eastern man I've ever seen.

Moses led me through the main foyer and down a series of hallways and thick, reinforced doors, eventually leading to a small, simple room with an elevator in it. The British vampire from before (who's name must have been Trent) was waiting for us. In his hand was a black leather satchel, which he probably went to get while Moses explained the 'rules' to me. He addressed us as we entered the room.

"Well, that was quick. You must be a fast learner, Coraline Gray."

"Uh, yeah, I guess so."

Trent turned to Moses. "You did explain to her about Sole di Sera, right?"

"Well, not exactly," Moses replied. "You're so much better at that sort of thing anyway."

Trent sighed, turning to me. "Before we go into the city, you should know a little history about our practices – it's important that you blend in.

When the Volturi settled here in the fifth century, it was their custom to wear large, hooded cloaks when traveling above ground in the daylight to avoid detection. At the time, such raiment was quite common. As culture changed, however, the large gray cloaks started to become more out-of-place, which was largely counterproductive. So, in twelve-fifty they built a cathedral on the western edge of the city and established a 'religious order' known as 'L'ordine del Sole di Sera,' or, 'The Order of the Evening Sun.' Officially, it's a group of people who have forsaken the vestiges of the modern world and the light of the sun as an act of piety. The Italians were already accustomed to reclusive religious sects, so the cover worked quite well at the time, and has given us an excuse to go about town dressed in robes ever since.

Now, there are a few things you need to know in order to keep the cover. First, we speak as little as possible – the townspeople know this – and we avoid eye contact at all times. Also, it fits our stereotype to walk slowly, always looking down. We try to come across looking somber and introspective."

"I think I can handle that," I said as the elevator came to a halt at the top floor.

"Good," Trent replied with a smile. "Then we're ready to go."

We stepped off the elevator into a small, dark tunnel – about four feet wide and twenty feel long – made out of large stone blocks. There was no door or other passageway that I could see, only damp, musky walls. Moses moved forward to the end of the tunnel and began pushing on one of the large stone bricks in the wall. With a deep grating sound, the block – which was nearly five feet tall – moved forward, acting as a doorway into another dark, cellar-like chamber. I checked out the stone 'door' as we passed through into the chamber, which was full of religious-looking items.

"Nice. A secret passageway..." I said, as Moses pushed the stone back into place. "It looks heavy."

"It's about fourteen thousand pounds," Moses replied as he finished replacing the door. "Heavy enough that the humans would never think to move it."

We left the storage room we were in and ascended a series of spiraling staircases until we finally reached the ground level.

"Hoods up," Trent instructed as we moved down one last hallway before reaching the large, open cathedral. "It's a little sunny this morning."

The hallway opened into a long, narrow room which was empty and eerily silent. The tall, arched ceiling was covered in detailed murals, each depicting a story from the bible. There were no windows in the walls, and no overhead lighting – only a few candelabras on the cylindrical pillars that cast a flickering orange glow over the gold-embellished marble sanctuary. We covered the span of the room silently and paused at the large, double doors to the outside world.

"Remember," Trent said in a half-whisper, "no talking, eyes on the ground. Think pious..."

We stepped out into the street in front of the cathedral and headed north, gradually making our way through the city and crossing the suddenly rural Italian countryside until we reached a farm with a series of large, unassuming barns. Inside one of the barns was a black car with dark-tinted glass, very similar to the one Philippe had picked me up in several months earlier.

"The Sole di Sera don't drive automobiles," Trent explained as we got in the car and started the engine, "but the Volturi guards do."

"It's a good thing, too," Moses added, "I wouldn't want to go all the way to Gorky on foot."

"Gorky? Where's that?" I asked.

Trent answered, seeming a bit annoyed.

"Central Russia, right off of the Oka river. Did Moses not tell you that, either?"

"I didn't want to weigh her mind down with too many details at once," Moses said, half-joking.

Trent continued. "We're going there to meet someone who's requested an audience with the Volturi. He's relatively unknown in the vampire world, and our task is to determine whether or not he might pose some kind of threat. I'm told you have a gift in discerning such matters..."

"I do," I answered, pleasantly surprised.

"Excellent. Well, let's not waste any time getting there..."

The car sped off heading northeast, driving nonstop to our destination in Soviet Russia. I'm not sure how we managed to cross the borders between countries so easily, but I assumed it had something to do with the boundless influence the Volturi seemed to have in the area.

We reached Gorky after about two straight days of traveling, and met with the person in question. Everything about him seemed alright, which I conveyed to Trent and Moses, and after talking with him for about fifteen minutes, we got back into the car and headed west.

I had been preoccupied for most of the trip, trying to find a way to sneak out for two minutes or so to get to a pay phone. Everything had been so rushed, so down-to-business that I was beginning to doubt I'd have any chance at all.

Fortunately, there was one more stop to make.

We had to pass through Moscow on the way back to Italy so that Trent could take care of some 'sensitive business matters' for the Volturi there. The task was going to take two or three hours, which meant Moses and I had the opportunity to walk around the city and relax for a while, and since it was extremely cloudy, we got to ditch the cloaks and go out in normal clothing.

I had wanted to visit Moscow for a long time, but never had the occasion to travel there. Part of me would have really enjoyed actually relaxing and taking in the sights, but I couldn't do that until I had contacted Edgar. At my request, Moses and I spent most of our time in the shopping districts, staying near large crowds (which were easy to get lost in) and pay phones. I kept racking my brain trying to come up with a way to separate myself from my 'parole officer' without making it obvious. Every idea I came up with was either too risky or, well, too risky. Either it wouldn't be distracting enough, or it wouldn't be innocent-seeming enough to explain away.

And then the solution hit me – literally.

We had recently rounded a street corner, approaching a grocery store on our right. A few yards in front of us, a produce truck was being unloaded by a couple of teenage boys. One of them was walking my direction, carrying an armful of eggs. I eased gently to my right, pulling myself close to his path, turned my head teasingly, tossing my hair around a bit before ending with my eyes in a deadlock with his. Vampires are designed to be attractive to humans, and considering the hormone levels in this young man, he never had a chance. He noticed my gaze, his eyes eventually making it past my midsection and up to my face – just in time to allow me to make one swift movement with my right leg. I caught just enough of his ankle to send him crashing into me, eggs and all, landing on top of me in the street. The embarrassed boy sprang up instantly, no doubt apologizing for his clumsiness (I didn't speak Russian, but it wasn't hard to understand his feelings). I stood up slowly, egg mess dripping from my shirt.

It was perfect.

"Um... Moses? I don't want to seem like an inconvenience, but... I really need to get cleaned off. It may require me to take the shirt off. Would it be really bad if I had a couple minutes to myself in the ladies room?"

"Sure," he said, chuckling. "Wouldn't want you distracting any more delivery boys. They probably have a restroom in the store. I'll be waiting right here. Don't take too long, though, I don't wanna have to come barging in there after you."

"No worries. I'll be right back."

As soon as I was out of his sight, the race was on. I had to get cleaned-up enough to keep my cover story, while trying to find a telephone to make a call from. First things first – I darted into the ladies' room and wiped the goo off my shirt and face, taking a few paper towels with me so I could continue cleaning up while I was on the move.

As soon as I stepped out of the restroom, I began looking for someone that spoke English. Unfortunately, no one spoke anything but Russian. I tried making a 'telephone' gesture, but no one seemed to care enough to try and understand what I was asking for. The stress started building up as I looked at my wristwatch: a minute and a half since I left Moses. That leaves me, what... three minutes? Yeah, three at the most. Ugh! If only someone understood English...

And then it occurred to me: they may not speak English here, but maybe someone understood French or German. I started up again on my question circuit, asking everyone in the grocery store where I could find a telephone in French and German. Finally, a teenage girl answered me in broken French, telling me there was no telephone in this store, but there was probably one in the bank, which was two doors down. Perfect! So, then, how am I supposed to get there?

I thanked the girl and headed to the back of the store, looking for any sort of rear exit. Of course, knowing my luck, the front door was the only official entrance to the building. They did, however, have several stories of apartments above the building, and out the window of the second floor hallway was a fire escape. I quietly snuck out onto the metal staircase on the side of the building, climbing to the roof and making my way over to the bank. After another creative use of a fire escape, I gained entry to the bank and started asking again for a public telephone.

This time I crossed the language barrier much easier, and in a matter of moments I was handed a telephone. It was a good thing – I was running out of time. It had now been almost four minutes since I had left Moses; he was sure to be getting suspicious soon. I quickly dialed the number Edgar had given me, waiting impatiently as each turn of the rotary dialed spun lazily back into place. I lifted the headset to my ear after entering the numbers, and... nothing.

Oh, no – did I dial it wrong? I don't think so... It's probably an international call – maybe those are restricted on this phone... No, if I was supposed to call from a pay phone, it shouldn't be a problem. Or... was it because the pay phone was supposed to be in Italy?

I looked down at my watch again – the numbers seemed to be speeding up. After a quick glance around the room to be sure I wasn't raising anyone's suspicions, I tried carefully re-dialing, and got halfway through before I realized the obvious. It wasn't plugged in. In my haste to place the call, I must have pulled the phone a little too far from the wall. Coraline, you idiot! How could you miss that? Hurry! I plugged the cable back into the wall in a flash, growing more nervous with every second. My hands were actually trembling as I dialed the number one more time. Please, please work this time! Please...

I lifted the headset to my ear again, and this time the phone rang! Oh, hurry, hurry! Pick up! My eyes darted around the room, making sure I still had time as the phone rang again and again.

The phone had just finished its fourth ring when someone picked up on the other line.

"Hello?" A smooth, alto voice answered.

I was about to respond when my eyes glanced back to the front of the building – and froze. Moses was walking through the glass revolving door.

I was caught.

For a split-second, I thought about running, but it was too late. His eyes were fixed on me – eyebrows pulled down, his mouth in a thin, straight line. There was no escape.

"Hello?" the voice on the other line asked again, causing my attention to snap back to the task at hand. I had to get the information across – that was my top priority. Whatever trouble I had gotten myself into would have to wait.

"Saigon," I whispered into the receiver, covering my mouth discretely to be sure Moses wasn't reading my lips. "They're in Saigon."

Moses stepped into the bank lobby just as I finished my one short sentence. I tried to covertly hang up the phone, but I mis-judged the position of the receiver as I spun around, and I missed, leaving the headset dangling by its cord.

Oh no! Act calm, Coraline. Think of a story – quick!

Moses crossed the lobby in a hurry, his eyes still staring me down like I was in big trouble.

"What did I tell you about running off?" He hissed, trying to keep his voice low enough to avoid making a scene. He reached around me to grab the phone headset and slammed it down on the receiver, which made a little 'dinging' sound as it rattled under the force of his hand.

"I...I...um..." My eyes flickered frantically back and forth across his face, looking for any crack in his expression. My hands were trembling more noticeably now. I was trying to come up with something to say, but I had nothing. And then, before two seconds had passed, his expression changed, as if some idea had just struck him by surprise.

"Oh, my God," he said in a more normal tone, "I hope that wasn't someone important!" And he burst into laughter again.

Whew. That was not funny.

"Um... no, it was just Philippe," I replied after a moment, crafting my story as I went. "I was... um, calling to see if I was allowed to use 'company' money to buy a new shirt, since mine is pretty much ruined."

"Oh, well that's a relief," he said, flashing that toothy smile again. "For a minute there, I thought I might have gone a little too far. Sorry, I know I'm picking on you, but it's just too much fun. You make it so easy. You've gotta lighten up a bit. I thought you were gonna faint, you looked so spooked."

"Oh, I was spooked alright." More than you know.

"Funny, I didn't even notice you come out of the store. Guess I was paying too much attention to all these... mmm, tasty looking humans. Good thing you smell so good, or I would've lost you. So, did you get your permission?"

"Um... no, I actually couldn't reach him."

"Well, I'm sure he wouldn't mind. Let's go find a new shirt for you. We should still have enough time before we need to meet Trent."

Moses and I went deeper into town, looking for a few good clothing shops so I could get out of my shirt, which smelled like rapidly-souring egg goo. After popping into a few shops, I found a blouse I could live with, and we paid for it in cash, which Moses had on hand. I tried to strike up a normal conversation with him as we began our walk back to the car, mostly to settle my nerves. I was still a little up-tight about almost getting caught on my phone call.

"So, Moses... I've been trying to figure out your nationality. The skin, the face, the name... Jewish?"

"Ha!" He blurted, smiling and shaking his head as he murmured something in a language I didn't understand. "Of course, of every possible option you would choose Jewish" He sighed, lowering one eyebrow "I'm Palestinian."

"Really? I just figured being named Moses..."

"'Moses' is what my friends call me. Whenever I came to Volterra, no one wanted to take the time to use my full name, so they came up with nicknames for me – since I'm so fond of Jewish heroes and all. 'Noah,' 'David,' 'Methuselah...' 'Moses' is just the one that stuck."

"Oh, I see. So would you rather I call you "Mohammed, then?"

"See, here we go again with the stereotypes," He said in a teasing tone. "I'll talk to Philippe – you've gotta get out more often. Believe it or not, I'm actually not a Muslim. Eastern Orthodox. For several generations."

"Wow. Okay, well, sorry for the mix-up..."

"Forget it," He said, placing his arm around my shoulders in a sort of brotherly side-hug. "I wouldn't expect an American 'Infidel' like you to know any better," he said, releasing me from his hold and tussling my hair like a tormenting older sibling.

"Actually, I'm... Canadian..."

I paused in my counter-point, trying to give my eyes a chance to come back to their senses. For a moment, I could have sworn I saw something that was totally impossible. I blinked my eyes and looked again, spanning over a sea of faces in the city square and landing again on that one face that shouldn't have been there. It couldn't have been there. But it was.

It was Grant.

For one magical split-second, our eyes met across the distance, and my heart began soaring like that night we first kissed. Parts of me came back to life that I had forgotten I was missing. I felt ready to take off and fly around the globe on pure giddiness.

And then I remembered who I was here with.

Oh, no! O, God, no! Moses – If he sees Grant here... What is he doing here? He should be a thousand miles from here! Stupid, stupid boy! He should be on another continent. Oh, God, what am I gonna do? I can't let him be seen. I can't!

"Canadian, eh?" Moses responded, still playful. And then he did something terrible. Pulling his eyebrows down again, he followed my eyes, looking across the city square, right at the spot where Grant was standing, staring back at me.

"Hey, what're you looking at?" He asked, his words echoing in my ears like he was speaking from far away. This was like a bad dream – one of those where you keep praying that you're dreaming, because if you're not, it's a disaster.

Oh, God! Do something, Coraline!

"What am I looking at?"

Do something. Now!

My only idea was a desperation play, but it was better than nothing, so I went with it.

"What am I looking at? I'll tell you what I'm looking at..."

I jumped up, grabbing his bald head and pulling him to the ground in a headlock. Once we hit the ground, I started rubbing my knuckles across the top of his head – playfully, not too hard – and taunting him.

"I'm looking at a big, bald, smelly Arab, that's what I'm looking at."

I was trying my best to sell my reaction as authentic, but everything in me wanted to run off, find Grant in the crowd and run away with him. I knew I'd be sealing his fate if I tried it, though, so as much as it was killing me, I kept hiding in the crowd with Moses, who was ready to 'fight' back.

We wrestled on the ground for as long as I could keep him down – about thirty seconds in all – but eventually he started to overpower me. With a grunt, he placed his huge hands around my waist and tossed me over his shoulder like a rag doll. I came down pretty hard on the concrete, and it made a loud enough sound that we both realized we were making a scene. I stood up and moved over to be sure Moses would get up with his back to Grant's position. He stood slowly, rubbing his head.

"My, my... it seems the kitten has claws after all. I might have to start being a little nicer to you," he said with a teasing smile.

"Rarrrrr," I play-growled, showing my 'claws,' while sneaking a peak over his shoulder to see if Grant was still in sight. He wasn't – which either meant he hadn't noticed me after all, or he was making his way to me through the crowd. I couldn't let the latter happen, so I looked down at my watch demonstratively and made a plea to get back to the car before it got any later. Moses went with my suggestion, and we made it back to the car without any trace of Grant, which made me both relieved and depressed.

The sun was just beginning to set when the three of us met back at the car and started the two-day journey back to Volterra. Moses and Trent were engaged in an involved conversation in the front seat, which gave me the opportunity to zone out and think about everything that had happened over the last few hours.

I could only hope that the mysterious person on the other end of the telephone had understood what I was trying to get across, and that Moses wasn't hiding any growing suspicion about my behavior. Of course, he didn't know me, so he didn't know how weird I had been acting, but still... I was lucky to be assigned to someone so easy-going.

And then there was Grant. You know, I thought I missed him before – I spent more than my fair share of time thinking about him and the life we used to have – but until that day, whatever feelings of loneliness I had were just appetizers – this was the main course. Seeing him for that brief second, as scary as it was... it was beautiful. It was like having your ears stopped-up with a cold. You go for long enough with your ears clogged that your body adjusts to it – it becomes normal. And then one day, you hear that 'popping' sound, and the passageway opens up again, and there's this wonderful feeling where you hear everything more clearly, almost like it's the first time you're hearing things. That's how it was seeing Grant. It was like I had forgotten what it felt like to be... happy. Not content, not pleasant, not amused, but really, truly happy. And then to have that feeling fade so quickly... it was hard.

I had been rocked by so many emotions over the last three days; fear, surprise, panic, joy, stress, loneliness... I just needed a relief. I had never been a 'crier.' I know, it's how girls are supposed to be, but I never really felt the need to cry about things while I was a human. It's not that I wasn't sad, or depressed, or upset... I just never cried about it. This was different. I really could have used a nice, long cry. Instead, I got a quiet back seat with a window.

I stared at the evening sun changing colors, eventually leading to a cloudy night with no stars, and let my mind wander, going back to the 'good' days when the world made a little more sense and I had happiness within my reach. It's a place I actually went to often, retracing my steps through all those memorable times with Grant. On this particular occasion, I took myself back to November the previous year. Grant had received an indirect invitation to his brother's wedding, and he asked me to be his sort-of wedding date. Funny, that was one of the best weekends of my entire life, and he probably had no idea. Of course, neither did I, at the time.

When Grant told me he wanted to go to England a 'few' days before the wedding, I somehow came out with the impression that 'few' meant something like 'two,' or maybe 'three,' but definitely not 'five.' It was supposed to be a small little trip, but as it turned out, there wasn't anything 'mini' about our mini-holiday. Not that I thought it was a bad thing...

The two of us reached England Monday night, and spent the next day and a half in London. Grant took me on a pretty comprehensive tour of the town, which was very... educational. I sort-of felt like I was on a school field trip (well, a field trip with a really cute science teacher), but it was still fun. We rode the trolley around town, went shopping for wedding outfits, and even snuck inside "Big Ben" to see what it looked like up close (totally awesome, by the way). Grant kept apologizing for how bad the city looked and saying stuff about how we'd have to come back when the war was over. It didn't seem to look any worse than the other cities we'd been to, but I was fine with the idea of coming back with him. Really, I was pretty okay with the idea of going anywhere with him.

Or, at least part of me was.

The bad part of my little excursion with Grant was that it had to be a little excursion. Philippe was so up-tight about his stupid meetings, especially after the trip to the Himalayas, that it was nearly impossible to get away from him for any length of time. Don't get me wrong – I was always grateful for everything he did for me. I know my life would have been a lot worse without his intervention, but still, there were times when he was just too overbearing.

Like having me followed.

Yeah, he did that more than once. Seriously? As if I would try to run off? The problem was that he had it in his head that we were some kind of bizarre 'couple,' or at least that we would be sometime soon. He was a pretty possessive guy – and jealous – and the way he had people keeping an eye on me just made me feel smothered.

The truth is, I really liked Grant, I wanted to be able to relax and just act naturally around him, but I couldn't. I had never spoken about him to Philippe – not even once. Maybe it was silly, but I was a little afraid of what Philippe might do to someone he viewed as competition for my heart. He always played 'nice' around me, but I knew he was no stranger to getting his hands dirty. He could never know about Grant. Ever.

And that was what made this trip so wonderful – we were far away from any spying eyes. I could actually be myself for once, which was nice enough in itself. Add to that one of my favorite people in the world to spend time with, and you had the recipe for one great week.

By Wednesday afternoon, Grant was ready to move on, so we hitched a ride to Manchester and he took me to the house where he grew up. We spent hours going through the huge, vacant mansion (okay, so maybe it wasn't quite a mansion, but it was pretty big), and surprisingly, it wasn't boring at all. Every room had a story to it, and Grant got so animated telling them... it was entertainment enough just to see him act that way. We were supposed to go around town Thursday morning, but the weather wasn't cooperating, so we stayed inside and played games like a couple of six-year-olds. It was so much fun to just be silly and have a whole day to goof off, especially for two people who were normally slanted a little too far on the 'serious' side.

I learned a lot about Grant being there at his house. I could tell he had been close to his family, especially his parents – he still missed them a lot. I also got to see where some of his quirky characteristics came from. He let me look through his high school yearbook, and just like I thought, he looked like a total nerd. A cute, endearing nerd, but still... let's just say I wouldn't have even considered dating him in high school. Of course, I wouldn't have dated anyone in high school, but that's beside the point. And I guess the point is... well, I got to know him better, and I liked everything I learned. He was so real and accepting, and just easy to be with. It was definitely a good couple of days.

After the sun went down Thursday, he showed me around the college campus where his father used to work, and then we headed to a little town called Topsham to get familiar with the area before the wedding. Grant wanted to have a place to stay in case the daylight became a problem on Friday, so we stopped by a little inn close to town to reserve a room.

And things got a little awkward.

The two of us walked into the quaint little inn around 3am, so it took the innkeeper a few minutes to get to the lobby to greet us. She was a short, stocky woman in her forties, and her eyes looked huge behind her thick glasses.

"Can I help you?" She asked in a pleasantly rural English accent.

"Uh, yes. We'd like to reserve a room, if you have any available..." Grant spoke softly, trying not to wake any of the building's occupants.

"Hang on a minute, sweetie, let me see what I've got available..." The woman pulled out a thick book and opened it slowly, leaning in over the counter to read the handwritten page she turned to.

After a moment, she looked up with a forced smile. "Well, you're in luck. Looks like I've got one room left. How many nights will you be needin' it?"

"Just two – tonight and tomorrow night." Grant answered. I could tell how relieved he was.

"Alright, two nights it is. You'll be on the second floor, the last room on the left side of the staircase. And I'm gonna need payment up front..."

"Of course," Grant said, pulling a neatly-ordered stack of bills from his coat pocket. "Thank you very much, ma'am."

"You're welcome, sugar. Oh – and what name should I put the room under?"

"Grant..." He paused before he said his last name, remembering the fact that he was here for his brother's wedding. I could sense his nervousness as he stalled for a moment, trying to think on his feet. And then he came up with a reasonable cover.

"I mean, um... the name's Grant... uh, Will... Grant."

"Alright then," the innkeeper replied, chalking up his awkward reply to the lateness of the hour as she jotted his name down in her book. "Thank you for your business, Mr. Grant. You and the misses have a good night."

"Oh, we're not..." I blurted out before I knew what I was saying. Grant turned and shot a nervous glare at me. I don't even know where it came from – it fit our cover just fine to be a married couple, but for some reason, when she said 'misses,' it just struck a weird chord with me. The innkeeper looked up, trying to understand what I was saying. And then, I was trying to understand what I was saying, too.

"Um... married," I continued awkwardly. Coraline! What are you doing? Shut up and go upstairs. You're causing a scene.

"Oh..." The tired lady replied, giving a look like she just understood. And of course, she thought I was some kind of prostitute or mistress.

Thanks a lot, lady! Sheesh!

I was trying to think of some way to gracefully close this conversation and get upstairs, but nothing came to my mind. Fortunately, Grant stepped in.

"We're siblings," he said, in the kindest, most relieving tone.

"Oh, okay. Well, then, goodnight to the both of ya'," the innkeeper said, glad to know she was wrong in her assumption.

I turned to Grant as we walked toward the staircase, mouthing "sorry" to him sheepishly. I still didn't know why I had to go and almost mess things up like that.

"That's okay," he said, trying to disguise the tint of disappointment that colored his response. "Old habits..."

I had been getting much better at reading him, and in this instant it was painfully obvious. He was really let-down by my immediate dismissal of the thought of us being here 'together.' At first, his reaction annoyed me a bit. We used the 'sibling' cover all the time – why should it have bothered him? That's just the problem, though – he was hoping it would have been different when we were away from the usual requirements of keeping cover. Grant never said another word about it, and he tried his best to drop it and move on with the evening, but I could tell I had hurt him a little, and that was the absolute last thing I ever wanted to do.

The two of us spent the next day roaming around the little town, taking in the beauty of the countryside, and of course, talking for hours on end. The day seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, it was time to get dressed and go to the wedding.

I wore a pink silk dress with a cute little hat (in case the sun came back out), and Grant wore a gray three-piece suit. I have to admit, I was impressed at how good he looked in it. It was charcoal-gray – a thin wool with a herringbone weave in it that just screamed 'class.' I wasn't used to seeing him in anything well-tailored, and, well, it was nice for a change. The pants, vest and jacket worked together to show off his frame, which had just the right balance of 'firm and strong' with 'fit and trim.' He really was a handsome man, and for once, I allowed myself to notice.

And I liked it.

I was never really much of a 'girly' girl – at least, not when it came to dressing up. I was just more comfortable in slacks and a ponytail. Being around Grant, though, especially when there was a special occasion... it brought that whole side out of me. I felt so luxurious walking up to the church building in my silk dress, hanging onto the arm of a well-dressed man. People around were noticing us, and I have to admit – I enjoyed it. So what if people think we're 'together,' I told myself, I deserve a little break in the charade. After all, it's not like we're ever gonna see any of these people again.

We sat silently through the wedding ceremony, which was chock full of religion. I didn't know if all weddings were that way, but to me, at least, it seemed a little much. Anyway, once it was over, I was ready to slip out the door and start heading back home, but Grant had other ideas.

He wanted to wait in line to shake his brother's hand.

He was crazy.

I tried to talk him out of it, but he was insistent, so I reluctantly went along with him, though being that close to the wedding party made me more than a little nervous. The benefit of us 'crashing' the wedding was the idea that we could get in and out unnoticed, not march up and look Grant's family members in the face.

We shook hands with a bunch of people I didn't recognize, and eventually got to the bride and groom. I came to Lucy (the bride) first, and did my best to fit into the cover I had used when we visited earlier in the year (since she seemed to remember me).

"Congratulations; you look beautiful," I started, trying to keep things brief and generic. "And look at that ring – wow. That's a nice piece of jewelry."

I couldn't help but notice the huge engagement ring on her finger. It must have cost her new husband a fortune. Poor guy.

"Thanks," she said, genuinely appreciative. "And thank you so much for coming. I know it means a lot to Harvey. So many of his friends from the army are still out there, or... you know, they've passed away now. I'm so glad you two could come and be here for him."

"It's our pleasure. Congratulations again," I said, shaking her hand gingerly. I was really impressed by how sweet and grateful she was. She had this aura about her that was really pleasant – I could see why Harvey liked her so much.

Next in line was Harvey, Grant's brother. The two had been talking to each other for a minute before Harvey shot a curious look at me, grabbing my attention. I didn't quite catch the conversation leading up to it, but I picked up that he was trying to figure out what kind of relationship I had to Grant. Once again, my stupid mouth blurted out before I thought about what I was saying.

"Only friends," I said with a smile. At least, on the outside I was smiling.

On the inside, I was shouting.

Dammit, Coraline! What is wrong with you? Quit sabotaging every good moment! Ugh!

I extended my hand to shake Harvey's, hoping that if I just kept things rolling it may not be so hurtful to Grant this time.

"We're very happy for you, Harvey. You have a wonderful life ahead of you."

"Thanks, both of you," He responded. "Are you able to stay for the reception? It's at the Colston Estate this evening. I'm sure we can make room for two more at the table..."

Grant looked at me with an unspoken question on his face, checking to see if I was okay with the idea. Normally, I would have been firmly against it. We had already put ourselves out in public a little too much for comfort, especially when there was a pretty obvious (at least, to me) family resemblance between Grant and Harvey. Normally, I would have said 'no,' but when he looked at me with those big, auburn eyes, I totally caved in. Maybe it was because I felt like I owed him one (or two) for those 'just friends' comments. Maybe it was because the irresponsible side of me was getting tired of making rules and just wanted to have more special time with my friend. I don't even really know why, but I gave Grant my best 'I don't know, whatever you think' look, and he went with it.

"We'd love to, Harv. See you there."

We kept mostly silent as we slipped out the back of the church and started to head to the reception on foot. Mostly because I was deep in thought.

'Just friends?' Honestly, Coraline, do you have to rain on every parade? You know how he feels about you – would it kill you to just let one little thing pass? No, it was for the best. I shouldn't lead him on. There's just no chance that... this is going anywhere – at least not anytime soon. Better for him to hurt a little now than a lot later.

I dropped the mental subject at that point, unwilling to give formal recognition to the other thoughts inside me – the ones that were telling me that I was sabotaging any 'couple' ideas because I actually wanted to be a couple, but was too afraid to let it happen. That's stupid, I thought to myself again, trying to wrap up the subject, I know my role. Going there isn't an option. I know my role.

Grant and I talked for a while more on the way to the reception, which was several miles away. It was getting dark when we arrived at Lucy's large family estate, and my defenses slipped for a moment, allowing myself to enjoy the idea of formal dinner and dancing at a virtual palace with Grant. I couldn't help it – it was just too romantic to waste with my stupid 'responsibility' act. I deserved to enjoy just a little bit of fun.

We were seated next to an older couple who didn't really want to talk much during dinner, so we were able to keep up our cover pretty easily. We ate a believable amount of the food set before us like good little vampires, and watched while Harvey and Lucy did all the 'traditional' wedding reception things – cutting the cake, the weird little locked-arms wine drinking thing, and their first dance. Well, I say 'we' watched it, actually, I watched it. The quiet old man next to Grant had apparently gotten onto a subject he liked, and he was talking Grant's ear off.

It was a beautiful thing, watching the newlyweds dancing together. Not that the dancing was anything special, but to see the love they had for each other acted out with every movement... They were both so happy and fulfilled – of course, it was obvious to me, but I think anyone in the room could've seen it.

They were in love.

Once they were finished with their dance together, they started dancing with other partners – family members, old friends, and the like. Grant was still trapped in a one-sided conversation with the elderly man, so I got up and went to the dance floor on my own, brushing my hand across his shoulder as I went to let him know I was going. I waited my turn in line to share a short dance with Harvey – I hadn't had a chance to say everything I wanted to earlier at the wedding.

"Mind if I share a dance with you?" I asked, cutting in on an older lady that must have been a great aunt or something.

"Sure," he said with a smile.

As soon as we were in motion, I started talking.

"I didn't have the chance to finish what I was saying earlier, and I just wanted to tell you, you are a really lucky man, Harvey. I'm an unusually good judge of character, and I can tell you, Lucy is a gem. Real love is such a rare thing... you have to make sure to appreciate every moment of it. She's going to make a great wife. Hold on to her."

"Thanks. I will," he replied with a smile, before creasing his eyebrows and continuing on a serious note, "and you're a pretty lucky girl yourself."

"What do you mean?" I asked, hoping he wasn't talking about love anymore (and yet, somehow hoping he was).

"My brother is a great man," he said with an air of adoration. "He's probably the most selfless, giving, loyal person in the entire world, and any girl would be lucky out of her mind to be with him."

"Yeah, about that... I wanted to clear something up from earlier. People... like us – your brother and I – well, things like that don't exactly work the same way for us, but that doesn't mean that I don't care for him. When I said earlier that we were 'just friends,' I didn't want you to get the wrong idea. I do care for him, very much..."
"Yeah, I kinda figured that," he said with a smirk.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Well, he's hardly taken his eyes off of you the entire day. And, of course, you're beautiful, so who wouldn't, right? But I know my brother well enough to know when he's sweet on a girl."

I glanced over my shoulder toward Grant, and sure enough, he was looking at me. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and something inside of me jumped.

"You be good to him," Harvey continued, kind but firm. "He's a good man. Treat him well."

"I plan on it," I said as the song came to an end. Before the next one started, an arm reached out from the crowd, tapping Harvey on the shoulder.

"Mind if I cut in?" Grant said smoothly as he stepped closer.

"She's all yours," Harvey said with a smile.

We danced for a while without talking much – just enjoying the activity. We tried the waltz, which I was getting better at, and some other complicated dance that I completely butchered. And then, the music slowed down, and things got a little more serious. We slow-danced for a while, my hands around his neck while his hands rested on my hips. I looked straight into his eyes, letting everything around me fade, and letting my guard down little by little. We didn't say anything, but we didn't have to. Our faces said everything.

Who are you kidding, Coraline? I thought as I remained locked in his eyes. You know you like him – why try so hard to fight it? You've done so much for everyone else – you deserve to be happy.

I took my own advice, and for a moment, I just lived, and let the rules go out the window. I leaned in closer to Grant and rested my head against his chest as we kept swaying together. He gently wrapped his arms around me and held me there.

It was perfect.

I remembered why I always kept a little physical distance from him. There was this insane energy when we touched – a real chemistry. The strength of that connection made my willpower weak, which was something I couldn't afford, but in that moment, I couldn't bring myself to let go of him. Being close to him just felt so 'right,' like it was how I was meant to be. I sighed softly and soaked in the moment, feeling so safe and secure and wanted next to his strong chest. It was one of those moments that you want to freeze and keep forever.

I thought about Harvey and Lucy as we lingered there together. They were so obviously matched to each other – it was like they were made for the sole purpose of being together. And then I thought about Grant, and how different he was from every other guy I had ever known. If there ever was any design to romance, he would have been that match for me. If only things were different at home! If only I could just follow my heart...

"It's nice to believe in love for once, even if it is just for a moment," I said softly, closing my eyes and wishing things could be different. "They seem so happy, just perfect for each other. Do you think there's any chance they'll stay that way?"

"There's always a chance," he said sweetly, pulling me in a little tighter as the song began to come to a close.

There's always a chance.

I wanted to believe it, to let myself hope, but I couldn't go there. I couldn't handle that kind of disappointment. As much as I wanted things to be different, they were what they were. A romance with Grant just wasn't in the cards for me, as much as I wanted it to be. But I could pretend for a while...

The truth of my thoughts that November night brought me back to the present. My heart was tearing in two, thinking of Grant out there all alone, knowing I would probably never have the chance to tell him everything I longed to say. It was a cruel fate, but it was irreversible. I was right all along – a romance with Grant just wasn't in the cards for me. I laid my head back against the headrest of the car and accepted my fate.

It's just not meant to be, Coraline. It's not meant to be.

11. THE JOB

- - - DANNY WATSON - - -

WHOEVER FIRST SAID "TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS" MUST HAVE been afflicted with different injuries than those I suffered from.

No amount of time could remedy the wounds I carried.

A more accurate saying might be, "time heals some wounds; it causes others to scab over and become bearable." The latter was my experience.

On the day I first read Coraline's note to me, telling me she was going to Volterra and asking me not to follow, I thought I would never recover. I believed this tragedy would be the end of me – an incurable disease of the emotions. As time wore on, though, the freshness of the situation faded, and along with it, the stinging, throbbing loneliness.

By the time three years had passed, I found myself surprisingly resigned to my fate – be it temporary or eternal – and I had learned to make the best of my circumstances. The visions that had haunted my mind like the ghost of happiness slowly came less frequently, becoming more thin and transparent, until at last they stopped coming altogether. And so, I was forced to try and fill the hole in my life with other things.

Work. Study. Friends.

All noble pursuits, to be sure, but none fully satisfying. I still missed Coraline dearly and thought of her most every day, but I did find comfort in my other ventures, especially my friendship with Jasper and Emilio.

The friendship I shared with Jasper was easily one of the most profound of my entire life. The two of us shared enough in common to be like-minded, yet we were different enough to challenge, provoke and inspire each other to betterment. Jasper was the friend I could tell anything to. I would often talk to him about Coraline and the life I shared with her, and just about every other meaningful subject as well. In return, he shared his deeper thoughts, ambitions, fears, hopes and regrets. He was that friend that one could delve deeply into conversation with – one who could be trusted with delicate secrets.

The only subject that Jasper and I really disagreed on was that of sustaining the vampire appetite. Actually, we did share many of the same thoughts – both of us believed in the sanctity of all sentient life, including humans. Both of us hated the idea of killing humans to sustain ourselves, both of us worked to control the urge within us to kill. The difference was that I had settled on a solution to the problem, and Jasper was still seeking his.

I brought him with me to feed on the dead on several occasions, and to his credit, he did make a real effort to try it my way. In the end, though, it just wasn't something he could manage. He said the problem was the hunt – taking blood from cadavers was too far removed from the 'instinctive' feeding nature of vampires. This was no problem for me; I never really learned the 'vampire' way in the first place. For someone like Jasper, though, it wasn't so easy. He had been living that way for eighty years; it was just too great a change.

Though I got off to a rough start, I eventually developed a wonderfully efficient routine of feeding in Havana. The key was money. Since the city morgue was much more regulated than places I had been before, it was quite difficult to find bodies there with the blood remaining in them. Fortunately for me, the employees that managed the facility weren't very well-paid, and I was able to bribe my way into as much semi-fresh blood as I wanted, which was good, because I wasn't the only one filling myself in that way.

While Jasper had given up on the idea of corpse-blood, Emilio had taken right to it. Over the course of about two years, I helped him slowly change his feeding habits, to the point where he was almost exclusively existing on the blood of already-deceased humans. This thrilled me to no end. It was an immense comfort to have someone else who believed like I did, to no longer be the weird one.

If my relationship with Jasper was ocean-deep, then my time with Emilio was the shallow water that balanced things out. Not that it was any less legitimate, but Emilio and I spent most of our time talking about those everyday, lighthearted topics that acted as a reprieve in a life filled with heavy subjects. Emilio was like a younger brother to everyone, and I was no exception. He continually made me laugh (even when he was trying to be serious) and I always came away from our conversations feeling a little more positive than I came in.

Once I had come back to my senses from the dream-visions that impaired me that summer in Russia, I picked back up my duties as the company's pilot, and kept myself busy flying them wherever they needed to go. I kept up my other training as well, growing gradually better at hand-to-hand combat and increasing my language skills.

For better or worse, the group accepted me as one of their own, and let me in on a few of the secrets of their trade. One such secret was how we were able to keep such a low 'official' profile while living like semi-celebrities in a major tourism hub.

The answer was actually quite simple – bribery. Of course, it wasn't always money that was used to gain favor. The local government officials were bought easily, but the vampire authority in town was a different story.

Since Havana was such a popular destination for vampires, the Volturi thought it best to set up a sort of permanent governor over the area. Fortunately for our group, she was a single, unattached woman. Ramona was Argentinian; tall and slender, with long, straight black hair that went all the way to her waist. Despite her beauty, she had a reputation for being a very hard, no-nonsense woman, one who played everything 'by the book' and never hesitated to hand out stringent discipline. Of course, Hawkins was the exception to that rule. In exchange for a steady routine of sexual favors, she turned a blind eye to Hawkins and anyone he associated with. She never reported our presence to the Volturi, and made special provisions to exempt us from the semi-annual census. And of course, Hawkins made sure to keep her fully satisfied.

Another secret I learned was how the whole job acquisition process worked. Even with Emilio providing 'mental camouflage' and Ramona's administrative protection, there were still plenty of loopholes by which our group could be found and plenty of unsavory people looking for them. Secrecy and relative anonymity was of the utmost importance, so several safeguards were put into place between someone requesting a job and the five of us.

First of all, we never, under any circumstances, met our clients in person. There were representatives for us set up in three major cities: London, New York and Beijing. If someone wanted to hire us for a job, they would contact one of the representatives, who would anonymously relay the message to a central hub which was located in a small town about 40 miles from Madrid.

Once the message reached the station in Spain, it was transmitted in Morse code via radio signal to seventeen relay towers, situated all over the world. There was someone working for us in Havana who would listen for the signal, decode it (the message was always encrypted) and bring it to us. We would respond with a formal quote, and if the client agreed to the price, then we proceeded with the job. Any photographs or paper documents needed for the job would be mailed to a carefully selected address, which changed with every job, and half the money for the hit would be wired to one of several Swiss bank accounts we operated.

Once the job was completed, we would send word back to our regional representative, who would then inform the client. All in all, we hired six human associates on a regular basis, as well as several mechanics to keep our radio relay towers functioning. It was a complicated process, but it served its purpose – we knew very little about our clients (unless they chose to tell us about themselves), and they knew next to nothing about us.

As in any other business, there were 'up' times and 'down' times for us. Sometimes we would go two or three weeks without any work at all. Other times we had a month-long backlog of jobs waiting to be done. When that happened, as was the case in November 1947, the pending jobs would be placed in folders and kept in Hawkins' apartment, which also doubled as a sort of office for the group. On the occasion that I finished a course of study early and had a bit of free time on my hands during the day, I would often browse the job folders casually, getting a bit of a preview of where we might be headed next.

Little did I know that my routine investigations would cause so much turmoil and dissent.

I strolled into Hawkins' apartment one Thursday afternoon, bored and looking for something to fill the latter half of the day before the sun went down and the nightlife began. Hawkins was on the telephone with someone – a woman, I surmised. Jasper and Emilio were playing a game of billiards. The radio was playing jazz music softly in the background. It was as normal a day as there could possibly be.

As was my custom, I picked up the manila folders on Hawkins' desk one by one, looking through their contents and making a mental note of anything out of the ordinary – anything exciting.

From the front, the stack looked like the usual, somewhat repetitive list of jobs. The first was a hit on an African politician. The next two were 'name-only' jobs, most likely mob hits or personal vendetta's. The fourth was a government job handling the leader of an insurgence in China, the fifth was a a "disappearance" for an investigative reporter. I let out a sigh as I stacked the folders back in order and placed them back on the desk. Nothing interesting, I thought to myself, a little disappointed. Maybe next month...

I turned to join Jasper and Emilio's billiards game, but something caught my attention from the corner of my eye. In the wastebasket, along with a myriad of other used papers, were two folders of jobs the group had declined. The one in front was partially open, and in the text of the job description was a location I recognized – Wedmore, England. We didn't take many jobs in England; I was a bit intrigued as to the nature of the hit. I plucked the folder out of the basket and opened it, placing the contents on the desk.

And then I froze.

A horrifying dread seized my heart as I scanned the job order a second time to be sure I wasn't misunderstanding it.

I wasn't.

There, in plain type, was the most horrible thing I had seen in a very long time.

HIT ORDER: #3126

JOB TYPE: TERMINATION - HIGH VISIBILITY.

LOCATION: RESIDENCE:

252 S. BUCKSHIRE RD.

WEDMORE, SOMERSET, GREAT BRITAIN.

NUMBER OF TARGETS: 2.

PRIMARY TARGET:

-WILLOUGHBY, HARVEY.

SECONDARY TARGET – IF NECESSARY:

-WILLOUGHBY, LUCY.

PRIORITY: ASAP.

ADDITIONAL DETAILS:

PHOTOGRAPHS AND DESCRIPTIONS AVAILABLE.

USE OF VIOLENT FORCE IS PREFERRED.

SPECIFIC DISMEMBERMENT DETAILS TO FOLLOW.

INVOLVE LOCAL MEDIA IF POSSIBLE.

I stood frozen for a long moment before snapping into action.

"Hawkins!" I half-shouted, interrupting his phone conversation. "When did you get this?"

I snatched the paper up violently, showing it to him as anger mixed with fear and confusion inside of me.

"...let me call you back," he said into the phone with a slightly annoyed tone before turning to address me. "Okay, which job are you talking about?"

"This one," I growled through clenched teeth, tossing the folder and its contents at him. "The one to kill my brother and his wife. When did you get it?"

Jasper and Emilio stopped playing and turned to watch my conversation. Hawkins opened the folder and quickly scanned the job order.

"Holy hell! That's your brother?" He had a look I had never seen on him before. Gone was the swagger, the arrogant confidence. Instead, he looked as if he was going to be ill. "Honestly, brother, I had no idea..."

"His name is Harvey Willoughby, for Christ's sake!" I countered, raising my tone to a full-blown yell. "How could you not tell me?"

"How was I supposed to know? It's not like you're the only Englishman with that name, you know. You've been 'Danny Watson' for so long, it just never even crossed my mind."

"When did you get this?" I asked again, deliberately.

"Two days ago."

"Who sent it? Who requested it?"

"I don't kno-"

"Figure it out!" I shouted, growing more panicked and irate. I felt Jasper reach over with his ability, trying to bring my emotions back down.

"You know I can't do that, Danny," Hawkins said smoothly, working with Jasper to try and diffuse the situation. "It's the way the whole thing is set up. We don't know them, they don't know us. The job was purposely left anonymous. Whoever it is, they don't want us to know."

I didn't like it, but he was right. Tracking down the source of the job order would take a good deal of time and effort. The effort wouldn't be a problem – it was the time I was worried about.

"This was in the trash – you declined the job?" I asked, more calm, but still concerned.

"Aye. Persephone and I decided to turn it down. We don't like doing the messy ones, especially when we have plenty to choose from."

I shuddered at the thought of my brother's job being a 'messy' one. I didn't even want to think about what that meant.

"So, since you declined the job... do you think the client will try to hire somebody else?"

"I'm sure they already did. We're not the only group around that does this kind of work. There's a coven in India, another in South Africa... and I'm sure there are a few individuals who'd take a job like that."

"Then I have to warn them... I have to protect them."

"Listen, Danny, I'm as appalled by this as you are – I am – but it's too late. The client wanted this thing done as soon as possible, and we turned down the job more than forty-eight hours ago. By the time you get out there, they will have found somebody else to do it, or they will have done it themselves."

"At least let me try, then! I can't just do nothing..."

"Danny, there's nothing you can do." he said calmly, still trying to settle me down. "Number one, you're going to get there too late, and that's something you don't want to see. Trust me. Number two, even if you did get there in time to warn them, you couldn't protect them. Not indefinitely. Number three, and most importantly, we can't afford a run-in with another assassin coven. The only reason we all exist peacefully together is because we have a mutual understanding. We don't interfere with their jobs, and we certainly don't fight them. I'm a pretty well-known guy in these circles, and I haven't exactly made a lot of friends over the years. If we all go to England and end up killing someone from another coven over this, we'll have an all-out war on our hands – one that we won't be able to win."

"Fine, then we'll buy them out."

"What?"

"We'll talk to the other coven and buy out their contract. Money's all they want in the end. I'm sure we have enough cash to cover it..."

"Danny, you're not getting the picture. It's too late. Understand? I'm sorry, but-"

"What do you know about it? Huh? Nothing! For all you know, the client could still be looking for a taker."

"I've been doing this a lot longer than you have, brother. I know how these things go. Your brother and his wife were dead yesterday. Let it go."

"No... no, I'm not taking that for an answer. We're going over there and we're gonna stop this."

"We're not going anywhere, Danny."

"Fine! I'll go by myself."

"No you won't. You're too valuable to lose over this, and I won't risk crossing swords with another coven. Sorry, but it's just not worth it."

Now I was really getting angry. I took a few steps toward him, squaring my jaw, and looking him straight in the eyes.

"I'm going. whether you like it or not."

"No, you're not," he replied, plain but firm, unflinching.

"Oh yeah? Try and stop me," I said coldly, snatching the folder out of his hand and rushing to the door.

"Don't throw your life away over this, Danny," he called out as I left the apartment and slammed the door. I didn't care about whatever consequences I was setting myself up for. I didn't care about much of anything except rescuing my little brother.

The engine of the company Cadillac roared to life as I raced up the coast to the airfield. I clenched the steering wheel, my emotions swelling up in me like a volcano of rage, worry and determination.

I'm going to save my brother, and nothing's going to stop me.

Nothing.

12. ANGEL OF DEATH

NO MATTER HOW HARD I PUSHED, AND BELIEVE ME, I PUSHED, the plane wouldn't go fast enough.

I flew all through the night, bending and tweaking the aircraft to my will. It was exhausting – I had to take intermittent breaks to let my mind rest. Of course, those breaks weren't really 'rest' at all. I kept seeing Harvey and Lucy in my mind, being torn limb from limb and scattered across the city square in some macabre display.

Not on my watch, I thought to myself, clenching my teeth in gritty determination. Not while I have anything to say about it.

On the few occasions that I had flown to England with the group, we had always landed in London, since we had a working relationship with the airport authorities there. The problem with London, though, is that it's about 150 miles from Wedmore, which would take me 2 hours to cover on foot in the dark. Add to that the pending dawn and a morning work traffic rush, and London was out of the question.

I pulled out a set of travel maps for the UK and looked for a closer option, eventually settling on a small runway in Bristol, which is only 20 miles or so from Wedmore. Of course, the problem with the Bristol runway is that it wasn't meant to receive a plane like the one I was flying, which meant air traffic control would try to reroute me to London, which meant I would have to land in Bristol without permission.

At this point, I was willing to risk an unauthorized landing, so I veered my course slightly and headed for Bristol. It was nearing 7:15am local time when the British Isles came into view, and from my altitude, I could see the first light of morning beginning to peek over the horizon. I pushed the plane even harder, determined to land and get out before the dawn, and in my haste, I came upon the runway before I was ready, approaching it cross-ways. Frustrated, I pulled a tight loop around the little airstrip and made a more proper landing approach. To my surprise (and relief) the runway was empty, and I was able to pull off a rough-but-livable landing on the short patch of concrete.

As soon as the plane was down, I was out the door and headed for Wedmore. The sun was still hidden from direct view, so I made full advantage of the terrain, avoiding roads and getting to the outskirts of my brother's hometown in a matter of minutes. Upon reaching the small village, I began looking for locals who could direct me to Harvey's house. Fortunately, the few townspeople who lived there were all on their way to work, and I had no trouble finding someone to help me.

I soon found Buckshire road, and began racing down it with superhuman speed, looking for the right house, and praying to God I wasn't too late. I passed a few small cottages; 814 N., 433 N., 210 N. As soon as I saw 114 S. Buckshire, I knew I was almost there. I readied myself for whatever evils might await me on the other side of the large hill in front of me, and sped up it, running as fast as my legs could take me.

And then I saw it.

A large two-story house situated on the crest of a small hill, looking relatively exposed in the absence of nearby trees. My eyes scanned the house as I ran to it, looking for any sign of foul-play. The windows and doors were intact, there was no smell of human blood in the air, and there was still a little smoke rising from one of the chimneys. My heart jumped with a strained hope.

They may still be alive.

I left the road, crossing the yard like a bolt of lightening and bursting through the rear door (which was locked).

"Harvey! Lucy! Can you hear me?"

I checked through every room, closet and crawlspace in the large house, and there was no sign of them. Whatever their fate may have been, they weren't at home. I immediately began looking for clues as to where they might be (if I wasn't already too late). Their scent was still strong in the air – they couldn't have been away for too long. I checked the fireplace where I had seen the smoke rising earlier. The remains of a few charred logs were there, still warm and smoldering from being recently extinguished.

Blast! They were just here. If only I had come a little sooner...

I continued my investigative search, roaming through the kitchen, dining room and bedrooms before finding my next clue in the master bathroom. On the bottom of the mirror was a hand-written note attached with tape.

Lucy,

Don't forget I've got that meeting with the chap from Dunberry-Weston today. Might have to work late. We can get dinner at the wharf if you like.

Love you. -Harvey

p.s. When you go in to Bristol, could you pick up my dry cleaning?

Work... Maybe he's at work and she's out shopping...

I went outside and checked in the motor house – judging from the oil spots on the floor, there were normally two cars here, both of which were gone.

Maybe I'm not too late after all... maybe they're both in town...

I worked over the scenarios in my mind, trying to decide what the best course of action would be. On the one hand, I wanted to go back to Bristol to see if I could track Harvey and Lucy down and get them on the plane and back to Havana. If they really were still alive and well, I didn't want to give the assassin the chance to get to them. On the other hand, I felt inclined to stay and wait for Harvey and Lucy to return. After all, this was the location the assassin would be coming to, and if I went to Bristol, I risked the chance of missing Harvey and Lucy and leaving them here unprotected.

My answer provided itself as I walked back across the yard to the house. The skies were clear above, and the morning sun was casting far too much light to avoid detection. I couldn't leave the house, even if I wanted to. And if I couldn't go about town, then neither could the assassin (who I assumed was also a vampire). We were in a stalemate for the time being.

So I waited.

And waited.

And bloody waited.

I kept pacing the floor, checking the windows every thirty seconds, staying on high alert for the first sign of anyone coming. A farmer passed by in a pickup truck around 10:15am, followed by another around 11:30. And then nothing changed at all for another four hours.

I was about to go mad with waiting when I heard the sound of another vehicle approach. I looked out the north upstairs window to see what was coming. It was a black Jaguar coupe, and in the driver's seat was a dark-haired young woman – one that I recognized.

Lucy.

I quickly moved to the south side of the house, watching like a hawk through the spare bedroom window as she parked the car in the motor house and walked to the front door.

No assassin yet. So far, so good.

I silently descended the stairs and waited for her in the living room. She opened the front door slowly, her arms full of shopping bags, and entered, setting down the bags and closing the door behind her. After untying her scarf and hanging up her coat, she walked into the living room and froze.

And then she screamed.

"Wh-what are you d-doing h... what... what do you want? I have money... you can have it. Just... don't hurt me..."

"Relax, Lucy," I said softly, extending my hands palms-out in a gesture of non-confrontation. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to help you."

"How do you know my name?" She replied, still somewhat frantic, before she answered her own question. "Wait – I know you... from the wedding. Harvey's friend from the war..."

"Yes, that's me."

"What do you want? Why are you in my house?"

"Lucy, I need you to try and stay calm and listen carefully. You and Harvey are in great danger, and I've come to protect you. Now, do you know where Harvey is right now?"

"Danger? From whom? What... what kind of danger?"

"I'm not sure yet, but it's very serious. Someone wants you dead, and has hired an assassin to kill both of you."

"Oh, God..." She said, her facing turning even more frightened as she backed up slowly.

I peered into her body – her heart rate and breathing were elevated far too much.

"Lucy, try and calm down. You're starting to hyperventilate..."

No sooner had I finished my sentence than she fainted, slumping to the ground before I could break her fall.

Perfect. This is a great start...

I laid her on the couch and monitored her in between frequent checks out the window. After a few moments, she started to stir.

"Lucy? Are you alright? You fainted..."

As soon as she opened her eyes and saw me, she jolted, backing herself into the couch in a defensive stance.

"I promise, I'm not here to hurt you," I said, wishing at the moment that I had Jasper's ability to bend emotions. "You're safe. Now, do you know where Harvey is?"

"Why should I tell you?" She asked sharply. "For all I know, you're the one hired to kill us."

"I can guarantee you, if that were true, you'd already be dead. Let me help you..."

She looked me over for a long moment with skepticism before finally speaking again.

"I guess you've got a point. But I don't understand... who would want us dead. And how do you know about it?"

"I don't know who ordered the hit on you," I replied, trying my best to speak in a calm tone, despite the urgency I was feeling to get information from her. "I intercepted the message, and when I heard it was you, I came right over to try and stop it."

"We haven't made any enemies, we don't owe anyone money..." she said, beginning to cry. "Why would someone do this?"

"That's not the point right now, Lucy. We need to make sure Harvey is safe. Where is he? Is he at work?"

"He works in Bristol, at Colston Textiles. He's the sales manager there..."

"He said in his note that he might be working late – how late do you think that might be?"

"On Fridays he's usually home by three-thirty. He's meeting with some big client to talk about buying them out, so I don't know how long that's gonna be – maybe a few hours..."

I looked out the window – the sun was already low in the sky.

"Is there any way you could call him at work?"

"Um... I guess I could try," she said, still sobbing.

I followed her to the telephone and she placed a call, but no one picked up on the other line.

"The office closes at three. There's no one there to answer the phone."

"Then we'll just have to wait," I said, both to her and to myself.

More waiting. Fantastic.

I had Lucy pull together a small suitcase-full of food and a change of clothing. As soon as Harvey was back, we were getting as far away from here as possible.

It was about 4:15 when Lucy finished packing, and the two of us waited upstairs in the study, watching out the north window for Harvey's car, a red Aston Martin roadster (which made sense – Harvey had always had expensive taste). We didn't have to wait long – I heard the rumble of the car's engine at 5:00 on the dot, and soon after, we saw the bright red sports car top the hill.

"Now, remember what we talked about," I said to Lucy, going over our plan. "There's no time to waste. As soon as he's in the door, we explain the situation, and we get out of here. And what's the most important thing we need to do?"

"Stay calm," she said after a long exhale.

"Stay calm. Alright, you ready?"

She nodded her head.

"Then let's go."

We went downstairs and waited in the entryway for Harvey to open the door. After a moment, the doorknob turned, and Harvey stepped in, his face instantly lighting up in surprise.

"Grant? What's going on, Luce – is everything okay?"

He must have seen the worry on her face. Or on mine.

"Harvey, I don't really have time to explain, but you're in danger. You and Lucy need to come with me right away."

"What? Danger? What's... going on?"

"Your life is in jeopardy. I'm here to protect you, but in order to do that, we need to -"

All of a sudden, an unnatural sound caught my attention – a rapid beating, like the pulsing of a hummingbird's heart – only it sounded more like footsteps. Rapid, soft, barely-audible footsteps.

"Get down!" I shouted, pushing Harvey and Lucy to the ground just as a dark figure came crashing through the living room window. I charged the intruder, driving my shoulder into his or her midsection and driving them into the television set in the corner of the room. I wasn't wasting any time asking questions – this vampire was going down right now. I quickly scrambled around the disoriented attacker (who I could now see was a man) and placed my arms around his head, twisting it around as he struggled to throw me off.

"Zane! Help!" The man shouted as he writhed on the ground under me. I heard his neck begin to give way when another attacker kicked in the door, narrowly missing Harvey and Lucy, and raced into the living room. I kicked the knee of the man under me, breaking it easily, and dropped him, bracing myself just in time to absorb a blow from the second vampire. The new attacker, who was apparently named "Zane," launched himself at me, kicking me in the the chest. I was able to react in time to grab one of his legs and carry him to the ground with me.

This one was much smaller than the first, but he was faster. I would have evened up the odds with my ability, but with two vampires to keep track of (and two humans to protect), I couldn't afford the loss of peripheral senses it would cost me.

Without my normal advantage, I had no choice but to fight this newcomer the 'old-fashioned' way, grappling with him for a knock-out blow. He struck me in the neck, breaking my concentration long enough for him to elude my grasp and get back to his feet. I popped back up to my feet and jumped over him, placing myself between Harvey and the vampires. The larger one climbed back up to his feet, swearing, and they both closed in on me.

I tried to think of everything that Jasper had taught me about fighting – be patient, think defensively, wait for your opponent to make a mistake. None of it sounded good to me at the time; I wanted to rush in and take their heads off. I stayed disciplined, though, and waited for them to strike.

They both came at me at once; Zane jumped at my head while the larger one reached out for my legs. I kicked the larger one in the head, sending him flying into the wall, and got my hand up to my head in time to keep Zane from getting me in a death-hold. He spun around and held me from behind, trying to inhibit me so the larger one could hit me. I fought back with my hands, striking him in the face enough to disrupt his plans. He was able to bite me on the neck, but I pulled him back before he could do much damage.

Eventually, the large one got back to his feet and came at me again. I knew I couldn't take them both on at once, so I jumped with all the strength I had, taking myself and Zane (who was still on my back) through the ceiling and into the upstairs bathroom. We were both a little woozy after the collision, which was very bad, because it gave the larger one free access to Harvey and Lucy.

"Harv! Lucy! RUN!" I yelled from the demolished bathroom. "Get away from here!"

I stood slowly, regaining my equilibrium, but Zane jumped on me again, keeping me from getting back downstairs.

"Dalton – get the cars!" He yelled in a high-pitched voice that had a strange accent. I struggled to get him off, eventually getting hold of his hair and jerking his head forward enough to reverse the hold and throw him over my shoulder (and through the plaster wall in front of me). I jumped back down through the hole in the floor and raced out the door just in time to see the larger vampire, Dalton, throw Harvey's roadster across the yard. I grabbed Harvey and Lucy, one in each hand, and yanked them back inside the house before Lucy's Jaguar crashed into the front porch.

Escape was no longer an option.

I backed into a corner of the living room, keeping Harvey and Lucy behind me, and waited for the assassins to come to me.

And they did.

"This is going to end badly for you all," Dalton said through a thick Nordic accent as the two killers slowly stalked me. "This will be your only chance. Get out of our way and let us have the humans, and we'll let you go."

"How much are they paying you?" I asked hurriedly. "I'll top it. I'll double it."

"That's not likely, my friend," he responded coldly. "Leave, or we'll make you leave."

"Listen to me! I have money. I can pay you in cash..."

"Quit talking and let's just finish this," Zane said impatiently as they closed in.

Diplomacy was out of play. All I could do was fight.

My mind raced as they started to rush in on me. I needed a kill-stroke, and quick. If I could decapitate one of them, I could probably handle the other one-on-one. Of course, that was easier said than done.

I went on the offensive as the assassins charged, trying for a quick strike on Dalton, who seemed to be the lesser skilled fighter of the two. I came within inches of his head with my teeth, but Zane grabbed me in mid-air and spun me around. By the time I hit the ground, he was behind me, holding both arms.

"Now!" He shouted, "take off the head."

Dalton closed in to put his hands around my head, but I landed a kick on his bad knee sending him stumbling backwards. I tried to wiggle myself free from Zane, but his hold was too tight. He wrapped his legs around mine, and Dalton came at me again, placing his large hands around my jaw.

I had been careless and emotional. I had lost.

I closed my eyes as he began to pull on my head, ready for whatever this next 'death' held for me.

But it wasn't my time yet.

Right before my vision failed, I saw another figure enter the room, attacking Dalton and giving me a little more time. I bent my focus toward Zane, pinching down on the signals to his limbs just enough to break free. I took his left arm, which was still a little inhibited, and twisted it violently, breaking the bone and dislocating the shoulder, and tossed him across the room. As soon as I let go, I spun around to see Jasper, his hands around Dalton's neck.

"Danny – his arms..." he grunted.

I worked his system next, loosening his grip on Jasper's arms, while turning to defend against Zane's counterattack. But there was no counterattack. Zane was nowhere to be seen. I turned back to Dalton, and watched as Jasper tightened his grip, causing a thundering roar as he pulled the head off the assassin. Dalton's body fell to the ground, as Jasper handed his head to me.

"Get rid of this fast," he said in a lowered voice, "I'll make sure the other one ran off."

I turned to a terrified Harvey and Lucy, who were holding each other, huddled in the corner of their destroyed living room.

"I need oil – or gasoline. Fast. Do you have any?"

"I... I have some c-cooking oil... in the kitchen..." Lucy replied, her voice as shaky as her body.

"Great. Get it for me. And bring some matches."

As she went to fetch the oil, I ripped a few wooden studs from the broken wall next to the fireplace and tossed the pieces in. Lucy returned slowly with the oil in hand, looking as if she could faint again, which she did right after handing me the can. I tossed Dalton's head in the fireplace, pouring plenty of oil over it, and set the whole thing on fire. As soon as I saw that the flames would continue on their own, I proceeded to dismember the fallen assassin, tossing pieces in the fire as I went.

It's over, I thought as I sighed deeply. Far too close for comfort, but over.

I turned back to Harvey after the last piece was thrown in. He was holding Lucy, who was just regaining consciousness, though he was just as spooked as she was. The poor boy looked as if he had seen a ghost.

"Good God, Grant" he said in a shaken voice, his face as white as a sheet. "What the hell kind of angel are you?"

13. ESCAPE

HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN TO SOMEONE THAT THE NOBLE BROTHER they thought had died and become an angel was actually a heartless, bloodthirsty abomination of evolution?

…

…

Exactly. I didn't know either.

I wanted to be able to dodge the question, to skip the subject altogether, but my brother's bewildered face begged for an answer, as did that of his young wife, who was now conscious again.

"Harvey... I'm... not actually an angel at all. In fact, I'm not really dead. Well, I guess I am dead in a manner of speaking, since I'm not completely alive either. It's... it's complicated."

"... … okay..." Neither of them knew what to say. They were both in shock – I probably wasn't making much sense to them, anyway.

"Alright, uh... let me try this another way. Twelve years ago, I was attacked by a... No, wait... forget that. Okay, what I meant to say was... um..."

"Are we going to die?" Lucy asked, her eyes wide with fear.

"No, Lucy. You two are going to be just fine. It's okay, you can relax now. The danger is over." I took a deep breath and made a third attempt at explaining what sort of creature I was. "The man that tried to kill you – the one I just burned in the fire – he wasn't fully human. He was transformed by a sort of bizarre, infectious disease... a mutation of the human body. Those who are... infected go through a myriad of changes at the molecular level. Every cell in their body freezes just as it is at the point of infection, sort of like a petrified tree. Their cells stop reproducing, their vital processes start to decline, and eventually, their heart stops beating. But they don't fully die."

"Okay..." They were trying to stay with me this time.

"When the body goes into this petrified state, cells cease to grow, but they also cease to decay, so, in a manner of speaking, the person becomes immortal – they never age. But of course, that doesn't mean they can't be destroyed."

"So, this chap was an immortal mutant... who could throw my car across the yard..."
"Yes, so as a by-product of the mutation, a person becomes much stronger and faster. Their senses are also much sharper. Of course, there are negative side effects as well. The body loses the ability to grow or reproduce. And since the digestive system ceases to work, the only way to gain the material to fuel the body's processes is to take the lifeblood from another organism. Well, from another human being, actually."

Harvey sat in silent thought for a moment before responding. "So... we were being attacked by what – a vampire?"

"Well, yes, in a manner of speaking."

"You're kidding. Like 'Count Dracula' and all that nonsense?"

"It would appear that the legends were based in part on fact."

"... alright," Harvey continued, trying to understand everything, "so if... that was a vampire, then what are you? Some kind of monster-killer?"

Here it goes...

"No, Harvey, I'm the same sort of creature he was."

"You're... a vampire..."

"Yes... b-but not in the bad sort of sense. I mean, of course it's not a good thing, but I'm not evil – I'm not a killer. I use my abilities to do good."

The truth – or lack of it, rather – in my words seared me like a branding iron. There was a time when I did use my abilities for 'good.' For the last two years, though, I had been using them to fly assassins around the globe to kill people for money. Maybe I wasn't as 'good' as I thought I was.

"I was infected with the mutation twelve years ago in Washington," I continued. "I've been living a secluded life ever since."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Harvey questioned. "We all thought you were dead. We had a funeral... why didn't you..."

"I was afraid, Harvey."

"Grant, you're my brother. I'll accept you, whatever kind of mutant thing you are..."

"No, Harvey, I was afraid of hurting you – and mum and dad. I'm drawn to blood like a shark in the water. It was a long time before I could control myself well enough to be around people without posing a serious threat to them. I couldn't risk putting your lives in danger."

"This is heavy..." Harvey said, stroking his forehead. "So, what's next? You said the danger is over..."

"The immediate danger is over. We still need to figure out who wanted you killed. As soon as my friend comes back, we'll put together a plan."

As I was finishing my sentence, Jasper walked through the back door, his face grim and serious.

"We need to get moving, Danny. I think the police are coming – I heard sirens in the distance."

"Okay, where should we go?"

"Anywhere but here."

I turned to Lucy, trying to speak calmly enough not to frighten her any further.

"Do you still have the bag you packed earlier?"

"It's over there, next to the staircase."

"Great. Get it, and let's all get out of here."

We left on foot – Harvey on my back, Lucy on Jasper's – and ran over several miles of farm land before coming to an out-of-the-way barn. We snuck into the wooden building, which was mostly filled with hay, and sat down to regroup.

"Did you ever find the other assassin, Zane?" I asked Jasper, hoping for an easy answer.

"No, and that's the problem. He did run away, but not far. I tracked him as best I could. He just kept circling back and coming around the house. I don't really understand why he's not leaving, but I figure it probably has something to do with this."

Jasper pulled a leather satchel from around his shoulder and opened it up, spilling its contents on the upstairs barn floor. Out of the bag came a stack of papers, cash, and two passports.

"What is all this?" I asked, sifting through the materials.

"I picked this up as I was making my way to the house to help you. It's their job details and return flight tickets. They're probably part of the South African coven – one of those competitors Hawkins was talking about."

"Oh, great. Then I've gone and botched things up for us all. The Africans are going to want retribution..."

"Not necessarily," he countered, laying the two passports in front of me. "I've never had any dealings with the South Africans, and of course, you haven't either. The only ones they would recognize are Hawkins and Persephone. They have no way to tie the two of us to the Havana coven, so I think we may have dodged that bullet."

"Well, that's a relief."

"The problem is, as long as this second one, 'Zane' is following us, we can't go back to Havana. If Hawkins found out we led him back there, he'd kill us. Well, maybe not literally, but... it wouldn't be good."

"I'll bet he's pretty peeved at me right now," I said, hanging my head.

"No, he understood why you came here. He's mostly peeved at me."

"You? Why?"

"Because I came here after you."

"I thought he sent you here..."

"Hawkins figured it was suicide – you coming here by yourself. He didn't want me to die with you."

"Jasper... thank you."

"Don't mention it. I know you'd do the same for me."

The two of us proceeded to go through the papers in front of us, looking for any clues as to who may have hired the hit on Harvey and Lucy, who were huddled together to keep warm. Everything looked very standard – the same double-blind process we used. There wasn't much to go on, other than the fact that they got the job the day after we declined it and flew to England from Johannesburg, South Africa.

After a few minutes, I heard Jasper make a "hmmm" and cock his head slightly as he looked over some of the job details.

"What?" I asked.

"That's funny – the client wanted..." He pulled in closer, and spoke softly enough that our human protectorates wouldn't hear. "The client wanted these two to be impaled in the town square, bodies intact and 'unspoiled' except for the left hand, which they wanted to be removed at the wrist. They wouldn't go to the trouble to be that specific unless it meant something..."

My stomach turned as the answer landed heavily upon me.

"It's my fault," I said, staring blankly as old memories flashed through my head.

"What do you mean?" Jasper asked, taking the edge off my sudden emotional turmoil.

"Two years ago, before I came to Havana, I had a run-in with a group of Icelandic vampires -"

"I remember. The Michelsons, right? That's why you came to us in the first place."

"Right, the Michelsons. Well, I ended up fighting one of the brothers, and I cut off his left hand. I thought he was dead... at least, that's what I was told."

"Obviously you were wrong," he said as he looked again at the job order.

"He must have found out that Harvey was my brother... he tried to have my brother killed in revenge for the deaths of his brothers – and he wanted me to know he did it."

"Maybe," Jasper countered, pondering it a bit more, "and maybe not. If he was out for revenge, he would have killed them himself. Even with one hand, a vampire could easily kill two humans and impale them like that. He hired someone else to do it, though, and he wanted it to be a public kill – something that would make the news."

"Okay, so..."

"So maybe he was hoping you'd hear about it and come here – for the funeral or something. Maybe he was trying to draw you out of hiding..."

"Oh, God, you're right. What if he's hunting me?"

"We won't let him find you, Danny. We're gonna hide out for a few days until we lose Zane, and then we'll get you back to Havana. He won't be able to find you there." He looked over at Harvey and Lucy, who had fallen asleep bundled up together in the hay. "In the mean time, we just have to figure out what to do with those two."

"Have you fed recently?" I asked, suddenly realizing the danger Jasper might unintentionally pose to my brother and sister-in-law.

"Three days ago," he said with a look of remorse. "She was out on the beach alone at night, and the wind caught her scent, and... I just couldn't. I couldn't stop."

"It's alright, Jasper," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We all fail sometimes..."

"She pleaded for her life, Grant. She wanted to live so badly... and I killed her. I hated it, but it felt so good at the same time."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," I counseled, "I know my brother and his wife are safe with you. I trust you."

"Thanks, Danny," he said, looking me in the eye. "That makes one of us."

We spent the rest of the night in the little barn, hiding out and hoping Zane would give up and go home. Jasper went out every hour to check for traces of his movement. The first several hours were the same – he was circling the area, probably looking for a way to sneak in and retrieve his ticket home. At 6:00am, though, Jasper returned with a different story.

"I think he's finally given up," Jasper said with a hint of hope in his voice. "I found a trail leading to the west – toward the coast. He probably gave up trying to get his plane ticket and decided to swim back to South Africa. I'd like to wait for a while, though, just to be sure it's not a trick."

"I agree," I said, glad to hear good news. "How long do you think we should wait?"

"It's almost sunrise," Jasper answered. "Let's wait out the day in here, and if all looks good at sundown, we'll make our escape. That is, if your plane is still a viable exit strategy."

I hadn't given much thought to the plane – with any luck, it was still on the runway. Of course, it needed fuel, but that wasn't a problem. I just needed it to be there.

Harvey and Lucy had a fitful night of sleep, catching few moments of good rest, and by the time the sun started peeking through the slats of the barn walls, they gave up trying. I talked to them at length about my story over the last twelve years – about Britta and the crag, about my 'guardian angel' act during the war, about meeting Coraline and the others in Belgium, and of course, about the Havana coven.

In return, Harvey and Lucy filled me in on everything that had happened in their life since I had seen them last at their wedding. Lucy's father had made his fortunes in the textile industry, keeping up the family business, which had been one of the country's leading clothing manufacturers since the industrial revolution. After Harvey had come back from the war in a wheelchair, Lucy's father had given him a job as a salesman in his company. Harvey was a natural at selling things, and after the wedding, he was promoted and became the sales manager at the company's campus in Bristol (hence, the large house and extravagant sports cars).

Lucy had been a volunteer nurse in an army hospital there until the war ended, and for the last two years or so, she had been living primarily as a homemaker and designing clothing on the side. They had a perfectly normal, happy life together, and because of me, it was all over. Well, at least for the time being. As long as Lief was still out there looking for me, Harvey and Lucy wouldn't be safe on their own in England. The three of us worked out a story, staging things as a kidnapping. We would wait a few days, and then send a ransom note to Lucy's father, diverting his attention somewhere in Europe. Once the danger was over and Lief was found, Harvey and Lucy could "escape" and return home again. It was a hard thing to accept – especially to Lucy, who, despite never being 'close' to her father, was still very much attached to her life in Wedmore. Eventually, though, they both accepted it, and we readied ourselves for the journey back to Havana.

Jasper went out at sundown to check again for any trace of Zane, and after finding nothing, we decided it was time to go. We stuffed the documents from the assassins into Lucy's bag, and set off on foot around 8:30pm, again with Harvey on my back and Lucy on Jasper's. We made a concerted effort to avoid roads, traveling through fields and back yards until we reached the city limits of Bristol.

The airfield was situated northeast of the town, which meant we either had to pass through the city or try to make our way around. The trouble with going around the city was the river Avon, which cut right through the entire area, and stood between us and the airfield. Of course, a river was no problem for me or Jasper, but with the extra weight of Harvey and Lucy on our backs, we couldn't keep up enough speed to run across the water, and given the temperature in the middle of an English winter, the water would be entirely too cold for them to manage.

We pulled to a stop in a field south of town to discuss our options, setting our passengers down for a moment. Jasper and I debated the merit of several ideas, including jumping over the river or traveling further upstream to look for a more rural bridge. I was in the middle of presenting yet another option when Jasper silenced me.

We both stood there for a split-second in eerie silence, listening to the strange, hissing sound that got gradually louder until it ended in two rapid "thumps." Jasper and I scanned the horizon to the south, seeing nothing but rural countryside. It was Lucy's voice that tipped us off.

"Harvey? What's wrong? Are you oka- oh... oh, God..."

I spun around as soon as I heard my brother's name, instantly panicked. He looked at me with a confused, pained expression before slumping to the ground. I dashed over to him to see what was wrong, but before I had gone two feet I could smell it.

Blood.

I rolled him over to discover two bullet holes in his abdomen, and a copious amount of red fluid escaping through them.

"Jasper – Hold your breath!" I shouted, taking my own advice as I pushed back the sudden urge to feed. I pulled Lucy to the ground with one arm as I moved my body to try and protect the two of them from any further attacks. I glanced up briefly to see Jasper suddenly bolt off toward the west, presumably in pursuit of the gunman. I turned my attention back to my brother, who was more seriously injured than I had first realized.

"Gr.. Grant... I..." He tried to speak, coughing up blood that narrowly missed my face.

"Don't talk," I said, peering into him to see where the damage was. I tried to concentrate on finding the bleeding point and slowing it, but the smell of so much blood beneath me was making it very difficult to focus. Lucy wasn't helping either.

"Harvey? Oh, my God... Grant, do something! Harvey? Can you hear me? Hang on, honey! Grant – is he okay? Is it bad?" She was frantic, and I couldn't really blame her. I wanted to be frantic too, but I couldn't. I had to stay focused.

"Give me a minute, Lucy."

"Is he gonna die? Oh, God... is he gonna die-"

"Lucy!" I snapped back, turning to her for just a second. "Let me think." I was out of breath. I couldn't field any more questions.

I scanned the bullet wounds as accurately as the situation would allow, and the outlook wasn't good. One bullet had passed cleanly through his abdomen, narrowly missing his stomach and lung. The other one, however, had clipped the side of a major artery just above his large intestines. This was the main problem. I tried to slow the flow of blood to the area, to speed up any clotting... I even tried influencing the tissues around it to close in and make a temporary blockage, but nothing was working. At the rate he was bleeding, he would be dead in moments.

I looked again at Harvey's face, which was growing pale and sluggish. His panicked eyes stopped darting back and forth between my face and Lucy's, and they began to roll back as his eyelids closed. His heartbeat became erratic and weak. His blood pressure was dropping quickly, slowing the bleeding, but not enough.

He was dying. I could feel it.

Lucy threw herself over him, holding his head in her hands. "Harvey please... please don't go. Please... I love you. I love you, Harvey. I need you. Please..."

I didn't have the heart to pull her off. She was feeling the same thing I was – despair. I hadn't fully given up yet, though. There was still one more play available, though I cursed even the thought of it.

I could change him.

At least, I could try. I didn't exactly know how to do it – I had never done it or seen it done, but I had been on the receiving end of the infection, and I knew the basics.

All it takes is one bite, Grant. You don't have a choice – it's either that, or lose him forever. My thoughts weighed heavily on me – I hated, hated the idea of cursing my brother with this wretched disease. And that's if I was able to stop. I was just as likely to kill him trying – something I could never live with. I wished that he could at least have the ability to choose, but there was no time. I had to choose for him.

I scanned the horizon, looking for Jasper – I would have gladly had him attempt the change rather than myself – but he was out of sight. Harvey's heart was growing weaker by the second, weak enough that I was afraid it wouldn't have the strength to circulate the venom.

There was no more time. It had to be now.

I drew in one deep breath and let it out slowly, drawing on every bit of strength I had in me. The blood smelled good. Really, really good. I had to be able to stop.

"Sorry, Harv," I whispered with the last of my breath, pulling his upper body away from Lucy and exposing his neck.

And I sunk my teeth in.

The taste of warm blood flowing in my mouth was so much better than I had remembered. More than taste, really, it was such a satisfying feeling, like a human finally getting to lay in bed after a hard day's work. It was amazing, but I had to focus. I kept thinking about Harvey, the little brother that I loved, the only real family I had left. I thought about his wife, and the love they shared, and how much he deserved to live.

I tried to keep thinking those things, but as the seconds passed, things became more blurry. I started to forget what I was doing or why I was doing it. I started to forget everything but how divine this liquid felt as it passed into my body. I was faintly aware of shouting around me, maybe even something touching me, but even that grew more faint. It was like falling asleep slowly, giving way to the unstoppable urge.

Had the circumstances been different, I never would have stopped. I would have drained my brother's body dry.

Fortunately, I had Jasper.

I returned to my senses abruptly as a mass of arms and legs struck me like a freight train, throwing me from the warm body in my arms. I instinctively rebounded, snarling and looking around for the source of the interruption. In an instant, though, everything came back to me.

"Easy, easy..." Jasper was saying softly as he stood between me and my brother's body.

Oh, no... did I go too far? I lost track of time... how long was I drawing blood? I walked slowly toward Harvey's motionless form, which was now in Lucy's arms. She looked up at me through huge, tear-filled eyes, which turned from grief to rage.

"You monster!" She shouted, letting go of Harvey and standing to her feet. "You killed him! He trusted you and you killed him!" She began pounding my chest as she yelled, quickly running out of emotional energy and slumping to the ground in sobs. Jasper stepped in with his power, calming her outburst.

"He didn't kill your husband," he said calmly to Lucy as she gasped for breath. "He saved his life." He looked me in the eyes, glancing demonstratively at Harvey's body, which began to writhe and convulse.

It worked. The venom was taking hold.

I knelt down to Lucy's side, placing my arms around her gently.

"He's alive," I said softly as she continued to cry on my shoulder. "He's still with you."

Jasper inspected Harvey for a moment before tapping me on the shoulder. I stood and stepped a few paces away with him so we could talk discretely.

"I know how you're feeling, Danny," he started quietly, "but you did the only thing you could."

"I'm just glad you stopped me in time. I started to lose myself..."

"I know the feeling – trust me."

"So he's gonna be alright?"
"The venom is starting to set in. You got to him in time, so he'll be alright. It may take a little while, though. But then, you know that."

"What about the shooter – was it Zane?"

"I can't be sure, but that would be my guess. He got to the coast before I could catch him, left the gun and everything. He must have thought the job was finished. And listen... I'm sorry about earlier. I was wrong to think he would give up so easily..."

"He fooled us both, Jasper. I'm just glad you were here through it all. So, what now? Is Harvey safe to transport on the plane?"

"Oh yeah," he said with a smirk. "He won't be doing anything but lying on his back for a few days. It's her I'd worry about. She's a wreck right now, emotionally."

"Well, then, it's a good thing you're here."

We gave Lucy a little time to compose herself (which was much easier with Jasper's help) and continued on toward the airfield. Given the new circumstances, our plans for crossing the river became much easier. Jasper and Lucy went through town, while I jumped across with Harvey in my arms. We met back up on the north shore and headed to the airfield, arriving a little after midnight.

Fortunately, the plane was right where I'd left it, though there was a note and a citation attached to the door. I picked a few locks and gained access to the fuel station, filling up for the return flight home and leaving the cash from the South African's bag on the counter. After all, my 'stealing' days were over.

Jasper went back into town to buy food for Lucy (which was a little hard to come by at such a late hour) while I prepped the plane for the trip and talked a bit to her about what was happening to Harvey. She never left his side. Not for a moment.

Once we had everything prepared and loaded, I started up the large passenger craft, and we took off, heading back over the ocean to my home – Harvey and Lucy's new home. I didn't mention it to her, but our plan for a "kidnapping" cover went out the window when I bit Harvey. Her life in England was over. For better of worse, they were now part of the vampire world, a world from which there is no return.

I wondered, as I guided the plane to vampire-rich Havana, how things were going to work out between a vampire husband and a human wife. I knew it was only a matter of time until something had to be done about Lucy, but I wasn't willing to make any more decisions on the matter that night. I was just going to have to cross that bridge when I got there.

14. FULL CIRCLE

- - - CORALINE GRAY - - -

CHRISTMAS IS ONE OF THOSE HOLIDAYS THAT'S EITHER REALLY wonderful or really depressing. You could throw New Year's Eve and Valentine's day in there, too. For those holidays, it's all or nothing, feast or famine, joy or sorrow. The only deciding factor on which version you get is how alone you are, which in my case, was pretty near the bottom.

By the time Christmas 1947 rolled around, I was one step above 'deserted island castaway' on the loneliness scale.

Wait – scratch that – more like one step below 'castaway.'

If I were stranded on an island, at least I would know that I was alone because no one could get to me, and I couldn't get to anyone. I would know that there was an actual physical boundary separating me from friends and family.

You know what's worse than being stranded on an island? Being all alone on Christmas when there are friends and family that could be spending time with you, but choose not to of their own free will. Knowing that the only conversation partners available to you are two superficial trophy wives who don't even care to remember your name and a floor security guard who knows about fifteen words in English. That's about as low as you can possibly get, short of the total extinction of all sentient life in the universe. That was where I was.

Harriet had told me at least four times how 'sorry' she was that she would be leaving me all alone for Christmas this year. While I was rotting away fourteen stories underground, Harriet was relaxing on a private island south of Tahiti with Pearl and Donovan, her partners and new best friends.

She had been 'promoted' about a year ago, tasked with escorting Pearl around the globe. Pearl had a sort of sixth sense when it came to vampires with special abilities, so the Volturi decided to send her on a regular circuit to visit new vampires and find potential talents that Aro and his cronies could add to their collection in Volterra. Harriet went along with Pearl to speed things up, offering the freedom to travel just about anywhere, day or night. Donovan was Pearl's mate, and he went along to add a little security, since the two girls were both on the 'petite and fragile' side.

Harriet and I still had a good relationship for the most part – I mean, it's not like we disliked each other at all – it's just that I rarely got to spend quality time with her anymore. Her schedule with Pearl and Donovan would have kept her busy enough; add to that all the special trips she made with Demetri or Felix or Jane, and she was out and about virtually every day of the year. She always talked about finding a way to get me involved in her little trio, but somehow it never worked out, mostly because I was still under house arrest. I did get to go out every once in a while, when the circumstances called for my special skills, but it was never for long, and it was always under pretty tight supervision. I was still very much a prisoner.

Things had changed with Edgar's schedule, and I hardly ever saw him anymore. Moses would pop in periodically to say 'hello,' but there was never much of anything beyond small talk. The only person who I interacted with on a regular basis was Philippe, which was about as enjoyable as being alone. I figured at least he would be here to spend Christmas with me, but he had to get a lot of work done before the end of the year, some sort of census, or something, and he apparently felt like that was more important.

Who was I kidding? It probably was more important. I shouldn't have been so down about Christmas – for most of my life I hardly even celebrated it. It wasn't until a few years ago in Belgium that Christmas had really meant something to me, and that was because of Grant. That was probably the real problem underneath it all – it made me think of him, which is something I never did anymore.

Ever.

I may have screwed a lot of things up in my life, but if there was one thing I had a handle on, it was discipline. Thinking about Grant was first of all pointless, since I would probably never even see him again, and more than that, it was painful. Excruciating. I saw no reason to open and reopen a wound when thinking about it would never get me anywhere, so I took every memory of him and that one year of my life and locked them away, never to be pondered again. Most of the time, I could keep it up, but during these stupid holidays, it was just too much, even for me.

I sat alone on my bed on Christmas Eve, trying to get into a book while I waited for the day to pass. It didn't work. I kept checking the clock every fifteen minutes or so, as if something special would happen when midnight came and Christmas officially began. I knew I was going to crack sooner or later, so I made a deal with myself.

One hour of memories.

I would give myself one hour to think and wish and re-live, and after that, I was shutting it off. Since I was already checking the clock frequently, I decided to pick a start time, and midnight sounded as good as any. I must have looked at that stupid clock every three minutes between 11:30 and 11:59, as if looking would speed things up. Eventually the hands aligned and the clock struck 12:00 midnight all on its own.

I laid back on the bed, gazing aimlessly up at the ceiling, and remembered the last time things were good with Grant. It was a cold, rainy December night, just over three years earlier, and I took him out to my favorite place in the world for a talk I wanted to have and dreaded at the same time. Of course, the night really started with a conversation Harriet and I had earlier that day – the one that pushed me over the edge. I had no way of knowing how soon I would fall off that edge into this pit I lived in.

Why didn't I just lie? I thought to myself as the memories began to play back, it would have been so much easier that way...

"Coraline, you and I need to talk," Harriet said in a surprisingly serious tone as she stood in the doorway of my room. Her mood grabbed my interest – I couldn't yet tell what she had in mind to talk about, but whatever it was, it was a big deal.

"Okay," I responded, a little wary of where this might be going. "Come in..."

"Alright, first of all, before I say anything, I want you to know that I love you and I only say things to help you..."

Oh, great. That's not a good start...

"What, Harriet? Just say it. You're making me nervous."

"Okay, so... do you like Grant or not?"

Aha! So that's what this is about.

I sighed demonstratively, dropping my head to the side.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Hattie? It's complicated."

"That's not an answer!" She said, a little irritated.

"Sure it is."

"No it's not. There's nothing complicated about it. Either you like him, or you don't like him..."

"Fine, I like him. He's a great friend."

"And..." She said in a leading tone as a devious smile snuck onto her face.

"...and, that's all we need to talk about right now."

"No it's not, Coraline! I'm being serious..."

"So am I. Listen, Harriet, when I say it's complicated, I mean it. You wouldn't understand."

"I think you do like him, or at least I thought you did, and if you do, then you should tell him."

"Grant knows how I feel about him. We had a very clear conversation about it. We're friends, and that's all. Why is that so hard for you to accept?"

"Because it's not true! Because you think of him as more than a friend, and he thinks of you as more than a friend. He's totally into you, and right now you're just throwing his feelings around like crazy."

"Harriet, I think I would know if he was that into me. It's nothing, okay?"

"Are you blind or just stupid? He adores you. You of all people should see that."

"Grant is very sweet, and kind and loyal. I see that just fine."

"He's a lot more than that to you. C'mon, you have to admit you've noticed..."

I thought about it for a moment, trying to see things from her perspective. He did seem to be drawn to me, and there were a lot of things he did that could be taken different ways... The problem with Grant is that I did like him – a lot. So much so that it completely clouded my judgment on him. I didn't have a clue whether he was nice to me because he liked me or because he was a nice person.

"I guess it's possible," I conceded.

"Possible? He brings you fresh flowers all the time. He helps you with your chores, and buys you new books, and tells you you're beautiful at least once every day. He's crazy about you, and you know it. Stop denying it."

I loved Harriet, but she was getting on my nerves. The last thing I wanted was a lecture from her on how to handle my romantic life.

"Okay, fine," I countered, "I can tell. I know, alright? But like I said, it's complicated."

"So that's it, then? 'It's complicated?'"

"Yeah. That's it."

She sighed, looking down before making eye contact again.

"You're breaking his heart, Cora. Can't you see that? Please at least tell him that he means nothing to you and send him away. Maybe then he can start getting over you."

Before, it was just annoying. Now she was making me mad.

"What do you mean 'he means nothing' to me? You know that's not true."

"It must be true, because if you cared about him at all, you would never be this cruel."

"Cruel? Is that what you think I am? Cruel?"

How could she say that to me? That ungrateful little...

"I think you're lying," she continued. "To me, to him, to yourself... to everybody."

"So now I'm a liar, too?"

She squared her jaw and stared straight at me.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love him."

"Wha- … love him? Harriet, seriously..."

"I am serious. Look at me and tell me you don't love him, and I'll drop the whole thing."

"Harriet, it's not as simple as that."

She didn't understand. She couldn't. After what I'd been through in the name of 'love,' not to mention the pressure I was under from Philippe, 'love' was far from simple.

She wouldn't back down.

"Do you love him – Yes or no?"

"Harriet..."

"Yes or no?"

"You can't even begin to understand, so don't you stand here and ask m-"

"YES OR NO? TELL ME! YES OR N-"

"YES! Okay? Yes, I love him. Yes, I'm in love with him. There. Are you happy?"

She stood there in surprised silence for a minute, probably stunned at how direct my answer was.

That would make two of us.

It was like the words were coming alive as I spoke them, like it finally hit me when I said it out loud.

I was in love with him.

I'm... in love with him? Oh, God... I am! How did this happen? What am I supposed to do now? I can't just walk up to him and say 'hey Grant, I just realized that I'm in love with you, but I have to keep my distance from you or my stupid boyfriend will literally kill you.' Yeah, like that would go over well. Damn you, Harriet – I told you this was complicated. Now I'm all messed up. Thanks a lot.

"I knew it!" Harriet said with a smile, finally breaking the silence after my big declaration. "So, are you gonna tell him now?"

"Uh, no."

"What? Why not? Oh wait, don't tell me. 'It's complicated.'"

"You got it."

"He needs to know. He deserves it."

"I know, I know..."

"So you'll tell him? Soon, at least?"

"We'll see..."

She leaned over and hugged me tightly, her mannerisms even more chipper than her voice.

"I'm very glad we had this conversation. I'll leave you to your thoughts now, but I want to be the first one to hear when you tell him. I want details. Deal?"

"Deal." Now, get out of my room.

Harriet left me 'to my thoughts,' which was a busy place. I couldn't deny the truth of my own words – I loved Grant. Just saying it mentally made me warm and weightless and sunny all over. I was in love with him, and I was pretty sure that he at least felt something for me. I just didn't know what to do next.

I couldn't be with him. Not while I was under Philippe's watch. And besides that, he wouldn't really want to be with me right now anyway. I was screwed up. Bad. I had trust issues, transparency issues, communication issues... you name it, it was broken. I needed time to get things together before I drug him into my messy love life.

That's what I decided to tell him – I needed more time. I would take him someplace special, tell him that I could see things going in the right direction, I just needed more time. A lot more time. And if he really loved me, he would be willing to wait.

That's what I planned to tell him. Not that anything I tried to do ever went according to plan anymore.

Grant and I had fallen into the habit of taking long walks through the woods together, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity for a meaningful conversation, so I gathered up my emotions and stopped by his room late that afternoon.

"I have someplace I want to show you. Someplace special," I said, trying my best to seem 'normal,' though everything going through my head was making that near impossible.

"Sure. Do you want to go now?"

"Yep. If you're ready..."

"I'm always ready." *sigh* How true is that?

We passed by Harriet's room on the way out, and I gave her a little wink. I thought she was going to explode with giggles. It was a good thing we kept moving.

I took Grant to my absolute favorite place in the world – a big, solitary tree out in the middle of the forest. I came here all the time to think about big things, so it made sense that I would bring him here to talk about something as 'big' as... ugh – I could barely even say it.

Love.

Once we cleared the hill in front of the tree, I turned to Grant, anxious to read his reaction, which was pretty fruitless, as usual.

"So, what do you think?"
"It's beautiful."

I walked back to him and grabbed his hand to pull him over with me.

Electricity. Big time.

"Come sit under it with me for a while," I said, as we walked over to the tree and sat down together. Normally, I liked this place for its relative silence, but not this time. I had things to say.

"I used to come here a lot," I started, "mostly during the day, but sometimes at night, too. It was my place to think, to get away."

"You certainly picked a good one."

"Yeah, I guess I did. Back when that whole mess with Rodney was going on – and after it – I came here to sort through things. There was always something about the quiet that helped me think. I would sit here for hours and just listen to the wind move the trees. It's almost hypnotic."

We tried it for a while – listening to the wind. It was so romantic just being there with him. I nudged a little closer to him, close enough for our shoulders to touch, and I loved it. Just touching him was so nice.

Keep it under control, Coraline, I kept telling myself. You need more time, remember?

After a long time of sitting in silence, I started the conversation up again.

"I didn't come out here for a long time during the spring and summer, but lately I've been spending a lot more time under my tree."

"Really? Why's that?"

"I've just had so much to think about. Do you ever..." I paused. Ugh, how do I say this? This wasn't the direction I was planning on going in, but it was how I was feeling, so I went with it. "Do you ever wish that you could just take a break from everything, just for a day or two? You know, no problems, no responsibilities, no past or future or consequences, just living? Sometimes I wish I could just escape for a day, you know?"

"I wish I could go back to being a child. Life was so much simpler then..."

"Exactly! Life was easy. Everything made sense. And then, somewhere along the way, everything just gets totally mixed up, and suddenly you realize you don't know how to untangle it. I just feel trapped sometimes."

"How so?"

"It's everything. You, Wesley and Harriet, Philippe, the whole secrecy thing... sometimes I just don't know if I can hold it together any longer."

I wasn't planning on being this open with him, but there was something about Grant that just made it easy to talk about things. Which in my case wasn't always a good thing...

"Is there anything in particular that's making life hard on you? Maybe I could help..."

"No, it's... ugh, it's complicated. I don't know... I don't even know why I'm talking to you about it..."

"Because I'll listen."

He placed his hand on my back gently and began to lightly caress it.

So sweet. Aaaah! Melting!

"I know," I said softly. "You always listen. Don't you ever get tired of hearing me complain about things?"

"No. I could listen to it all day." I looked over at him to see that warm, welcoming smile on his face. I loved that face. I loved everything about him. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to...

"You know, you really are special. Did you know that? I've met so many people, and you... are so special. I wish you'd give yourself more credit."
"What do you mean?"

"You're too hard on yourself, Grant. I can tell what you think of yourself, and believe me, you are so much more than you think. You're nice – not to get something out of it, not to butter someone up – just because that's who you are. And you're patient. God, you're patient. I don't know how you do it. And you're smart, and thoughtful. You come up with the greatest ideas, and sometimes you're even a little goofy, which I absolutely love. You are ten times the man Philippe is."

Gah! Coraline! What are you doing? Don't bring that up now! Ugh – too late...

I looked back at the ground – it was a little easier to focus that way. "Sorry, I couldn't help but notice..."

He said nothing in reply – we just sat there, silent as a light rain started sprinkling around us. It was excruciating. The silence, that is. I wished in that moment that I could read minds like the Volturi thought I would when they changed me. I was dying to know what he was thinking – was he hurt? Angry? Indifferent? Why wasn't he talking anymore?

I tried to think of something to say to break the silence, but I kept coming up with the same stupid sentences. Stuff like 'listen, I know I've been jerking you around, but I need more time...,' or 'Okay, I know you think you want to date me, but I'm all messed up and that would be a bad idea...'

Nothing sounded right. I didn't want to be abrupt and cold about it, but I didn't know how to get there otherwise, so I just sat in silence, waiting for him to make the first move. Which he did in grand fashion.

"If all that's true, then... why are we still just friends?"

Oh, God, here we go. Is it too late too bail out of this conversation? It's not too late, right? Ugh, of course it is. Great.

"Surely you must know how I feel about you..."

No, no! Stop it, Grant – you're making this harder. Harriet was right. Oh no... I don't want to hurt him...

"I know," I said slowly, choosing my words with care, "and I wish... so much that things could be different, but they can't. They just can't."

"Why not?" He said sharply as the rain picked up around us. He was just like Harriet – he didn't understand this from my perspective at all, and I was getting tired of being lectured over it.

"Do you think I haven't tried to make this work?" I snapped back, letting all my pent up emotions come rushing out. "I have bent over backwards trying to keep this family together, to keep Harriet safe... I have sacrificed so much, you don't even know. I'm just tired, Grant. I'm so tired of being the strong one. I'm tired of being disciplined..."

"Then stop!" He yelled, escalating the argument even further. I was reeling emotionally, trying to hold it together. I wanted to cry and yell and wring his throat and bury my head in his chest – all at the same time. Luckily, he toned it down a bit before he continued. "Stop being the big sister. Stop trying to hold everyone together. Do what you want to do."

"I can't do that, Grant," I replied, fighting with myself over which emotions to give in to. "I can't."

"Why?" he questioned, more pleading than confrontational this time. "Is it because you're just not attracted to me?"

"No..."

"Is it because of Philippe? Are you in love with him?"

"No! Are you kidding? No..." How could he even think that?

"Is it because you're afraid he'll turn on you – turn Harriet in?"

He was right about that. I was afraid he would turn us all in. And then, it was more than that, but how was I supposed to explain that? I didn't know what to say.

"We can find another way, Coraline. You and me, together – we can think of something. You don't have to live with him over your shoulder."

Aaaah! Kill me now! Grant's pleading was so enticing, it was almost making me second-guess my decisions. Maybe... no, I cant. But maybe... maybe I could run away with him. He's so sweet... I know he would readily do it. He'd do anything I asked him to, but I can't. I want to so bad, but I can't. I won't ask him to do that for me, especially when I'm too messed up to love him the way he should be loved. It's not fair.

I couldn't give in. I had made my decision and I was sticking by it. Romance with Grant was out of the question – I was going to take one for the team.

"I can't... I can't risk it."

"Well you know what I can't do?" He said boldly as the rain picked up into a downpour. "I can't keep pretending to just like you. I can't spend another night alone thinking of how that wretch is trying to woo you, how he treats you like you're some petty prize, when you're the most wonderful, intelligent, genuine, beautiful-inside-and-out woman on the face of the earth. I can't go another day fighting with my hand to keep it from holding yours because I'm afraid of losing you. I can't walk around town pretending to be your brother, watching all the men look at you with awestruck eyes that I'm not allowed to have." He caressed my chin with his hand, turning my head until we were face to face. "Coraline, I can't keep pretending. You are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. You're all I think about, all I care about. I love you."

Wow.

My head was spinning, trying to make sense of everything he had just said to me. He loves me? He... he really loves me... I had wanted to hear those words for so long, to believe that I wasn't screwed up so badly that I was totally unlovable. It was melting every bit of will-power I had left. I knew I should get out of this place right away – cut off the conversation and go somewhere far away to clear my head, but... I couldn't. I couldn't break away. I couldn't do anything but stare in his eyes and feel loved and soak it in like sunshine. My head was telling me to run, but my heart was telling me to stay, and for once, I listened to my heart.

"Grant..." I started, searching for the next words, but nothing came out. I couldn't even think of words. All I could think of was how much I loved him, how much I wanted to be with him forever.

He gazed into my eyes, so sweetly, and began to lean in closer, closer than I had ever let him before. I knew what he was doing, and I was powerless to stop it.

I wanted it.

Gradually he moved his beautiful face closer, until we were almost touching, and then he did the most wonderful thing he could possibly have done.

He kissed me.

My mind launched one final assault as his sweet lips touched mine, begging me to run away, but it was over. Reason had lost. It was all heart now.

I sat there motionless for a second, taking in the sweet sensations like it was my first moment of life. This was a totally different kind of kiss than the ones I had known before. This was the embodiment of love and tenderness, a whole book of songs and poems condensed into one movement. The feelings swept over me like a flood of happiness, busting through the dam of discipline I had been building for so long.

There was no more holding back now.

I let it all out, and kissed him back, packing every ounce of love and passion inside of me into that one moment. I kissed him like my life depended on it, like there was no tomorrow. I grabbed his shirt, pulling his body next to mine, and pressed into him, letting our lips and tongues dance together like a ballet. I caressed his strong body, occasionally holding his head in my hands and running my fingers through his hair.

It was so beautiful, so perfect... I didn't have to say anything, explain anything, avoid anything. All I had to do was feel, and I felt good. I was so caught up in the moment, I was ready to make love to him right there, rain, tree and all, but somehow I knew he was too conservative for that, so I just kissed him. A kiss would have to be enough.

We finally let up, moving back far enough to look into each other's eyes, which was almost as magical as kissing him. I stared into those beautiful eyes, and for the first time, I fully understood how much I loved him. More than I loved myself. More than I had ever loved anyone or anything in my entire life.

I loved him.

I kept thinking those words over and over in my head, trying to get my mouth to cooperate. My stupid plan was blown to pieces. I didn't care what would happen, or how much time I thought I needed. I loved him, and he needed to know that.

I drew in a breath after a long while, ready to say those three little beautiful words, but something cut me off before I could speak.

A sound. Like cannon fire.

And just like that, my perfect moment was gone. My one chance to really tell Grant how I felt about him and try to start the life I wanted with him.

Gone.

I rolled over in my bed, scrunching into a ball in response to the pain in my chest – pain that nothing physical could alleviate.

Why, Coraline? Why didn't you tell him? You had so many other chances... why couldn't you just say it?

The questions were burning inside me, tearing my heart in two. I had to stop thinking. My hour was far from used up, but I couldn't handle any more memories – they were killing me.

I laid there in a ball and tried my hardest to forget.

And after a while it got better.

And after a longer while, I could sit up again.

And after what felt like days, I was over it. At least, I was over it enough to go on with my stupid meaningless life.

I didn't leave my room for three days. That's how messed up I was. That's why I didn't allow myself to think about Grant anymore. I probably would have stayed in there a couple of days longer if I hadn't received a gift bouquet of (big surprise!) roses with a note from Philippe.

Coraline,

I've been a tremendous ass, working instead of coming home for Christmas.

Let me make it up to you.

I'll pick you up tomorrow at midnight.

Philippe

As always, Philippe was a welcome distraction from the painful memories in my head and my ridiculously boring prison sentence. That, plus the idea of possibly getting to go above ground again was enough excitement to pull me out of my memory funk and back into semi-normal living. I picked out a nice outfit, did my hair and makeup early, and was waiting at my door at midnight for Philippe to 'make it up to me.'

He was right on time, knocking firmly on my door at 11:59. I opened the door to find him standing with both arms full of gifts.

"Philippe – nice to see you again. You want a hand with those?"

"Ah, Coraline, dear... you are more lovely every time I see you. It's as if evolution stopped for the rest of us, but continued for your sole benefit."

I'll take that as a 'no.'

He walked in, piling the gifts on my coffee table (which was one of his previous gifts).

"So, my little rose blossom, are you ready to leave this place and see the world again?"

"Absolutely!" I said with genuine enthusiasm for once. I was so used to my fake relationship with Philippe that an authentic response actually seemed out of place.

Of course, he didn't notice.

"Excellent. Then let's be going."

He took me through the labyrinth of hallways and staircases in the middle floors of the underground 'city,' and before I knew it, I was above ground again. I can't even describe how nice it felt to have the wind blow across my face, or to look up and see stars instead of a ceiling.

Philippe had a fancy car waiting to pick us up as soon as we stepped outside. We got in and it sped away, heading west, toward the coast.

"So, what do you think?" He asked, seemingly out of the blue. I could tell it had something to do with showing off.

"...about what?"
"This," he said, motioning to the car's cabin. "1948 Rolls Royce. The very finest money could buy."

"It's, uh... very nice."

"I only use it for special occasions. Like today. In fact, I believe you're the first female passenger that this car has ever been graced with."

He was lying through his teeth. Considering how well he 'knew' me, you would think he would know better. I guess, though, when you make a habit of something, it's hard to break out of it.

"I have to ask, Philippe, how did you manage to get permission for me to come with you? Is there some kind of 'mission' I'm not aware of?"

"The only mission is fulfilling your every whim and fancy for the next six days."
"Six days? How..."

"You should know by now, my dear, I can be very persuasive when the situation warrants it. I convinced the big three that you deserved a few days' break from your sentence in consideration of all the work you've done for their cause over the last year. In fact, I've been able to paint you in such a positive light, that I suspect they may begin to allow you to get out and around on a regular basis, provided you behave yourself and don't cause any trouble."

"Philippe... that would be wonderful. Do you really think they might do that?"

"Absolutely. And you deserve nothing less, my dear. It's a terrible shame, having you cooped up like a common criminal."

I listened closely for his intentions, and for once he was telling the truth. I had a real chance at getting to visit the real world with regularity.

"That is the best news I've heard in a long time. That's a gift enough for me – you can turn this car around and take me home."

"Oh, we're just getting started, buttercup. This week is going to be fantastic."

The car eventually stopped at a harbor, where we boarded a large yacht (or a small cruise ship – it was hard to tell the difference). Inside, Philippe had prepared a luxury suite for me – easily twice the size of my room in Volterra – complete with a fully stocked walk-in closet.

"I picked up a new wardrobe for you," he explained as I browsed through the silk and satin dresses. "I'm sure you must have been growing tired of your collection in Volterra. And of course, these are all yours to keep. I'll have the porter pack them up and ship them to your room when we return."

Leave it to Philippe to try to win me over with money.

"I made sure your room is fully equipped with everything you could want, but I also wanted to tell you... should you desire it, you would be more than welcome to share the master suite with me. I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't enjoy it..."

Sick.

I knew everything he was hoping to get from me on this trip, and I knew that hell would freeze over before he got anything of the sort.

"I... think I'll stay with the 'guest quarters,'" I answered, taking a tiny step backwards and looking away.

He was a little frustrated, but he tried to mask it.

"Very well. If you change your mind, though-"

"I won't," I interrupted. "Thanks, though."

"You're most welcome. I'll leave you to get settled in. Come find me when you're finished, and I'll give you the grand tour."

He left the room, a little upset, but still determined. This wasn't going to be the last time he tried to make a move on me.

I gave myself a little time to let my anger cool off before finding Philippe for the tour of the boat. By the time we finished the half-hour bragging-fest, he was in a much better mood. Everything on his boat was top-of-the-line – there was no telling how much money he spent on it. He had taken me on a cruise before – for my birthday a few years earlier. This boat made the other one look like a fishing rig.

We spent the next six days living in absolute luxury, traveling from port to port along the Mediterranean coast and enjoying the local nightlife everywhere we went. During the day, we had world-class entertainment on board the ship – orchestras, ballets, operas – you name it, we watched it. We ended the trip with a night in Paris, which was surprisingly pleasant. For a greedy, manipulative aristocrat, Philippe did know how to show a girl a good time. Too bad it was always with an agenda.

We flew back to Italy on a private plane, and I was back underground before my allotted time ran out. Philippe insisted on walking me all the way back to my room, although after six days, I was really tired of being around him and his incessant advances. He opened the door to my room for me, lingering in the doorway before he left.

He wanted something from me. Something I still wasn't inclined to give him.

"Thanks for everything, Philippe," I said genuinely, trying to wrap things up. It had been nice – I needed a distraction in the worst way. Unfortunately, for all the good he did in getting my mind off of Grant for the last six days, he marched me right back to the place where I started with his stupid request.

"Come, now, Coraline... I don't want to seem forward, but... don't you think I deserve a more... personal display of your gratitude?"

He still wasn't ready to give up trying to get something physical from me. He knew sex was out of the question, so he had a more 'entry-level' action in mind.

He wanted to kiss me.

I would rather kiss a yak. Twice.

"Philippe, I've told you-"

"Yes, yes, I remember, but don't you think you could make an exception? Just once?"

I would not defile the act of 'kissing' by wasting it on him. No way. There would be no exceptions.

"Sorry, Philippe – 'just friends,' remember? Thanks again. See you later."

"Very well," he said, frustrated but still determined. "Have a good night."

Ugh! The nerve of that guy! I thought to myself as I closed the door firmly. How many times do I have to tell him 'no?'

Kissing Philippe was pretty close to the very last thing on earth I wanted to do. It wasn't about looks or chemistry – he was a handsome enough guy. It wasn't even that I felt tied to Grant. That ship had sailed – I knew I would have to get on with my life sooner or later. No, the problem with kissing Philippe was motivation.

A kiss – to me, at least – is an expression of love. It's something given to say the things that words can't say. When Philippe asked to kiss me, it wasn't because he wanted to express those feelings. It was because he wanted to win. He wanted to conquer me... to own me.

And he wanted to get into my pants.

When you can see all that, it's kinda hard to feel like kissing the guy. Actually, it's kinda hard to keep from slapping the guy, but you shouldn't bite the hand that feeds you. Yes, it made me mad, but more than that, it made me depressed. I had someone who wanted to kiss me for all the right reasons (and he was pretty darn good at it, too), but he was gone from my life forever. After nearly a week of blissful distraction, I had come full circle – the memory of that one perfect kiss blazed in my mind like a fire, warming my insides, but burning me up in the process.

There was no escaping it.

Ugh! Coraline... you're so pathetic. Just stop thinking about him. It's not doing you any good at all. Let it go.

I wanted to throw myself on the bed and let the hurt continue, but I refused. The disciplined side of me was taking over, now that the emotional side was a total wreck. I had spent enough time feeling sorry for myself. It was time to start being positive again. It was time to start living again.

What about Paris? Paris was fun, I thought, changing the subject as I walked over to my closet and started weeding out old outfits to make room for all the new ones I got from Philippe. Yeah, Paris was a blast. At least I've got that to think about.

15. ADJUSTING

- - - DANNY WATSON - - -

THE ONLY THING WORSE THAN GOING THROUGH THREE DAYS OF agonizing pain is watching someone you love go through it. Harvey faced the vampire transition bravely, but under the weight of that indescribable pain, no man could fully stand.

I thought about it all the way home from England – what I had done to him, what he was now becoming, what I was going to do with him now. I hated it, truly hated it, but no matter how many times I replayed the events in my mind, it always came out the same.

I did the only thing I could have done.

As hard as it was for me to watch Harvey's conversion, it was ten times harder for Lucy. At least I knew what he was going through, and that there was an end in sight. All Lucy saw was her husband, writhing on the floor of the plane in agony, alternating between moaning and outright screaming over the pain he was experiencing. She kept coming up to the cockpit, asking if there was anything she could do to help him feel better. I kept telling her the same thing I told myself – all we could do was wait and let the change play out.

I had Jasper stay in the back of the plane most of the way back, partly to make sure Harvey didn't damage anything as he writhed in the floor, but mostly to keep Lucy's emotions under control. She was a sweet girl – very emotional by nature. Under normal circumstances, that would have been a good thing, but with everything that was being hurled upon her... she needed a little help to keep things together. After a few hours of watching, Jasper needed a break from the drama, so he came up to join me in the cockpit for a private conversation.

"We've gotta figure something out before we get home, Danny," he said quietly as he sat down in the copilot's seat next to me. "We can't just march a newborn back to the apartment and think it's gonna be okay with everybody."

"I know, I know. What do you think we should do? Hawkins is gonna be peeved."

"He'll get over it. It's not really his problem unless we make it his problem. I'll talk to him first, smooth things over. He may not like what you did, but he'll accept it. After all, he lost his own brothers like you almost lost yours."

"He did? How?"

"Before he was changed. He crossed the wrong coven. Actually, his family did. It's a long story, though."

"We've got time. Besides, I could use a diversion. Would you mind telling me the truncated version?"

"I guess I can try. It all happened several hundred years ago. Hawkins' family was responsible for protecting the kings of Scotland, sort of like modern-day bodyguards. His father and older brother were assigned to protect King James II, and they uncovered a plot to assassinate him. They snuck him out in the night and hid him at the bottom of a well for a week. The assassination failed, and the traitors in the royal court were caught and executed.

Well, the assassins who were supposed to be performing the job were Los Cuervos, a Spanish assassin group, and one of the oldest covens in the world at the time. Persephone was one of them; she was sent ahead of the hit to gather information, but she became romantically involved with Hawkins' older brother, Duncan. She was the one who leaked the information to the Hawkins family.

When Los Cuervos found out what had happened, they sent an assassin to kill Duncan and the rest of the family as Persephone's punishment. The vampire killed Hawkins' father and three brothers – one older and two younger – but Hawkins was out on a boat with a woman the night the attack happened, so his life was spared. When he came back home to find his family murdered, he met Persephone, who was grieving over the loss of Duncan. She told him everything that had happened, and about vampirism, and he asked her to change him so they could have their revenge on Los Cuervos. So, she changed him, and with his strength as a newborn and her knowledge of how and where Los Cuervos operated, they systematically killed off the entire coven, eventually taking their place as the predominate assassin group in the western world. Hawkins' actual name is Ronan, but he insists on going by his family name, to honor his father and brothers. So, when I say he understands your situation, I really mean it. He may not like what you did, but he would have done the same thing if he were in your position. I think that's why he didn't really try to stop you."

"Well, that's a bit of a relief. We still have to figure out what to do with Harvey when we land, though."

"Yeah, about that... we're gonna have a problem with Lucy."

"How so?"

"Harvey will come out of this transition in a day or two, and when he does, he's going to be very thirsty. If Lucy's in the room with him when he wakes up..."

"Oh, my... I see what you're getting at."

"The last thing he wants on his conscience is killing his own wife."

"Indeed. Okay, so we've got to separate them, at least for the time being."

"Yeah, and I'm not sure how long that time's going to be."

We cut off our conversation at that point as Lucy knocked on the door to the cockpit.

"Grant? Jasper? Harvey's really shaking and moving around a lot – I can't hold him down. Can one of you come help me?"

"We'll have to finish this another time," Jasper said as he got up to help Lucy.

"Yeah, we'll figure something out," I replied, more to myself than to Jasper.

We did eventually work out a plan, making it up as we went. Once we landed in Havana, Jasper took Lucy into town and put her up in my apartment for the time being. Meanwhile, I stayed with Harvey in the hangar at the airfield. It took him nearly four days to finish his conversion, longer than I had expected. Of course, he was very near death when I bit him; his circulation system was working slowly to begin with.

While Jasper was at the apartment building, he explained the whole situation to the rest of the group, and to our surprise, they took the news fairly well. Persephone brought Lucy a few outfits to wear, Jasper kept the kitchen stocked with food. Emilio came out to the hangar to help me keep an eye on Harvey, which was great, since I needed to find a more permanent place to take him once he woke up.

With Emilio watching Harvey, I slipped out for a day, searching the area for someplace Harvey and I could lie low for a while. Eventually, I settled on a small fishing cabin about twenty miles further down the coast from the airfield. There were no other buildings (or people) for miles, and the owner was willing to take cash for the little building. Unlike my business partners, I had elected to save and invest the majority of my earnings, which meant I had plenty of funds on hand for that sort of thing. It also came in handy when I went to the morgue, raising my bribe to the workers so I could get more blood.

I briefly considered sneaking a few bodies out of the morgue to take to Harvey, but the logistics of such a venture would have been too complicated for me at an already complicated time. At the recommendation of my little bribed morgue-worker, we drained several pints of blood from fresh bodies and bottled it up so I could more easily sneak it out to my brother.

I was determined to give Harvey a better experience as a newborn vampire than the one I had received. I would teach him from the beginning to control his urges, to drink from dead corpses instead of living beings. I would teach him about the positive sides to his condition, instructing him from a moral perspective. There was no need for him to become a monster like I had become when I was a newborn.

I came back to the hangar and relieved Emilio, waiting there alone for my brother to wake up. The hours passed slowly, but eventually I noticed the changes in his vital systems and was able to 'watch' with my mechanical insight as the venom completed its work and gave birth to my now-vampire brother. I must say, it was a fascinating thing to watch. I learned a good deal more about the whole process by seeing it played out in front of me.

Once his heart stopped, I stepped back, and watched in awe as my brother 'woke up' to his new self.

"Hey there, Harv. How do you feel?"

He said nothing, looking around the hangar in wonder as he experienced his heightened senses for the first time.

"Do you know where you are?" I asked with a slight smile after he had looked around for a while.

"I... I don't really remember what happened. I was talking to Lucy, and then I got shot..."

"You were bleeding out, Harv. I thought I was going to lose you, so I did the only thing I could. I bit you. You're one of us now."

"One of us?"

"A vampire. Like me."

"What the hell? ... I'm... I'm a vampire?".

"Look around you – notice how different everything looks? And your sense of smell and touch – they're different, too, aren't they?"

"I'm a vampire?" He said again, trying to wrap his mind around the idea.

I couldn't blame him – it was a lot to take in.

"All those things I was telling you about vampires – the strength, the speed, the agility – they're all yours now."

"Really?" He smiled for the first time since waking. "So, I could, say, pick up a car and throw it across the yard?"

"Sure. And a lot of other things too. It's amazing, Harvey. You're going to love it."

Though it went against my nature somewhat, I was trying my best to focus on the positive things in the situation. As much as you want, though, you can't always run away from the ugly side of things.

Harvey's smile turned abruptly to a grimace.

"My throat... it feels so dry, like it's burning. Is that normal?"

And here we go already.

"Yes, I'm afraid that is normal. We don't eat or drink human food, we only exist on blood, so what you're feeling is like hunger and thirst rolled into one sensation."

"Yeah, okay... well, it hurts."

"I know. Here, let me get something to help," I said, walking over to the corner where I had stored a couple gallons of blood on ice. I pulled out a half-gallon bottle and brought it to Harvey.

"Here, drink this. It'll make it better."

He looked at me skeptically.

"Seriously? I'm just supposed to drink blood?"

"Trust me," I said with a wink.

He took the bottle and unscrewed the cap slowly, still eying the red liquid with a bit of uncertainty.

"Well, here goes..." He said with a shrug before taking a sip.

And then a gulp.

And by the third taste, he was hooked. He downed the rest of the bottle without easing up a bit.

"That... was fantastic! Do you have any more?"

"Sure. Let me get you another bottle."

A tremendous weight was lifted from my shoulders as I watched Harvey drink the bottled blood – and like it. There was hope for him, hope that he could live as a vampire without giving his conscience a thrashing.

We talked for an hour or so after he had his fill, passing the time until it was dark and we could take his vampire abilities for a test-drive. I explained in detail how the blood metabolism worked, and how dangerous his cravings were, especially as a newborn. I also explained how imperative it was that he kept his distance from Lucy until he was in control of himself. He didn't like it, but then, he didn't fully understand how strong a craving can be for a newborn in the presence of a temptingly fragile human. And Lucy was worse than most.

Every human has a unique scent – and, to a lesser extent, a unique flavor. I had learned to shut out the draw of most people, but there were those select few that just had a stronger appeal than others. Lucy certainly wasn't the most difficult human I'd been around, but Jasper and I agreed that she was more tempting than most. We had to be extra-careful around her.

Once the sun was out of the way, Harvey and I left the cabin and headed out to sea for a little fun. I showed him how to run on water, and how to move under it. We ran, jumped, swam and broke things for hours, laughing the whole way. It was a thrill just seeing him experience everything for the first time. Just like I had anticipated, Harvey absolutely loved the physical abilities of his vampire body. It was good – vampirism seemed to suit him.

I spent the next 24 hours with Harvey, making sure he was stable enough to be left alone for a while, and prepared to go back into town to check up on Lucy. I left him with a few bottles of blood, and made him swear not to leave the cabin for any reason, under any circumstance, until I returned.

With Harvey safely locked away, I ran back into downtown Havana, which was busy, as usual. The first stop I made was to see Lucy and make sure she was okay. I tapped on the door before unlocking it and entering. I found her asleep on the couch, with the television still turned on.

A television... Hmm, guess Jasper must have picked one up for her...

I quietly inspected the reserves of food in the refrigerator (which I had never used) and the pantry, and from what I could remember of human hunger and thirst, she seemed to be in good shape. I was on my way out when she stirred and sat up abruptly.

"Jasper?" she said in a groggy, slurred voice.

"No, it's Grant," I responded softly. "Just came to see that you were comfortable here."

"Ugh... 'comfortable' wouldn't be the word I would choose to describe it," she said a little more coherently.

"I'm sorry, what can I do to make it better?"

"Bring Harvey back?" She smiled briefly, letting me know she was kidding.

"Sorry, can't do that just yet. Anything other than that?"

"Well, it would be nice if I could stop vomiting," she said, nodding her head toward the bucket beside the couch.

"Oh, well, that's no good, is it? How long have you been sick?"

"Since yesterday morning," she moaned, placing her hand on her midsection.

"It must be the water..." I said, more thinking out loud than talking. "Have you been drinking water from the tap?"

"Yeah – why? Is it unsafe?"

"Well, not really, but the environment here is different from the one you're accustomed to in England. There are probably microbes in the water that your body isn't used to handling. Don't worry, it'll get better in time. For now, you should boil water before drinking it. That should help kill any bacteria that might be causing you trouble."

"Bacteria? There's stuff living in the w- ugh... excuse me, I kinda need to..." she pulled the bucket to her face and vomited into it, filling the room with the unpleasant aroma of her stomach acids, which wasn't as bad as it may seem. It covered up the smell of her blood.

"Here, let me empty that for you," I said, taking the bucket and flushing its contents down the toilet.

"I am truly sorry this has been such a wretched couple of days for you," I said as I reentered the living room. "You and Harvey deserve much better..."

"It's okay," she said with a weak, forced smile. "At this point, I'm just glad everyone is safe."

"Yes. About that, I hope you understand... I don't want to keep you and Harvey apart any more than I have to, but right now he's far too dangerous to you. I won't risk your life."

"Do you really think he would hurt me, though? Would he not recognize me or something?"

"No, it's not that. Vampires, they... we have a tremendous urge to drink blood, one that we have to learn to restrain."

"Oh... so, am I... am I making it difficult for you right now?"

"Well, yes... but not to worry – it's nothing I can't handle. I've been doing this for a long time, and it does get easier with time."

"How much time? For you, at least..."

"Well, the craving's at its worst in the beginning. It's much more powerful – and painful, during the first year or so after the transition, but-"

"Year? It's gonna take him a year?"

"No, no... we'll work through it much sooner than that, but you need to be patient."

"How long, then? He is my husband, after all..."
"Yes, I know. Give me three months, and I think we can have things under control."

"Three months... I don't know if I can handle that," she said, beginning to tear up.

"I know you can," I said reassuringly as I moved to end the conversation. "A good friend of mine once vouched for your character, and I think she's right. You're a strong woman – you can handle this."

She nodded as tears started to run down her cheeks. "Take good care of him, okay?"

Her voice was cracking. I hated leaving her in this situation, but the clock was ticking – every second I left Harvey unattended was a potential disaster waiting to happen.

"I love him, too," I said as I stepped back to the door and placed my hand on the doorknob. "I'll take good care of him."

"And tell him I love him... and I miss him already."

"I'll tell him. Goodnight, Lucy."

I left the apartment and headed straight to the morgue, where there was another stockpile of blood waiting for me. Once I had the blood in hand, I went straight back to the cabin, hoping Harvey had kept his promise. He was there waiting for me, just as I had left him, and we started another day of newborn education together.

I spent the next six weeks in much the same fashion as those first few days back in Havana. The bulk of my day was spent with Harvey, teaching him, having fun and catching up on fourteen years of lost time. It was really nice to get to know my brother as a peer. Though he was born sixteen years after me, we were now only three years apart in our eternal frozen ages, which added a whole new dimension to our friendship. Everything turned into a competition – running, jumping, diving... anything I taught him became a game.

I had always been the nice older brother when we were lads, letting him beat me at football or checkers every now and then, so he wouldn't feel so bad. He hated that, though. He'd rather lose than know that I let him win. Harvey didn't believe in going easy on someone, and now that he held the upper hand in the majority of our 'competitions,' he gave me a taste of the losing side. He was extremely athletic – even for a newborn – more so than I would ever be. I was the one with all the experience, though, so I did beat him at a few things. I didn't mind losing, though. All I cared about was getting to spend time with my brother. We had always been 'buddies,' it was just a little more evened out now.

I had been devoting a good amount of time over those same six weeks to the Harvey/Lucy situation. The more I was with Harvey, the more I realized the obvious – sooner or later, Lucy was going to have to become a vampire. It was the only way their relationship would work. The idea of trying to have a romantic relationship with someone you have the constant urge to kill was absurd – changing her was the only way.

The problem was figuring out how.

I had experienced first-hand how dangerous attempting to change someone could be. Even my own brother was tempting enough for me to nearly cross the line. If Jasper hadn't stopped me, I don't know if I would have regained my control in time. Lucy was far too enticing to me and Jasper for either one of us to attempt to change her. Persephone and Hawkins had both completed successful conversions before, but they didn't care about her life the way I did. I wasn't fully convinced they would exercise the restraint to stop, either.

The idea I was most interested in was avant-garde, to be sure, but then, so was most of my vampire life, and it seemed to be working alright so far. The thought had crossed my mind once to try injecting venom in a non-traditional way (i.e. a syringe, an intravenous line, ect.) to avoid the whole killing instinct. There would be no blood shed, no danger to the human. It would certainly be easier. The problem was figuring out how to extract viable venom from a vampire. Being the scientific pioneer that I was, I used myself as a test-subject, trying to collect enough sample material for a clinical trial.

In my somewhat-limited experience in the vampire world, there were only two ways to induce the secretion of venom. One was to cause an injury – venom was used to heal a vampire's body. The other way was to whet the appetite, a-la Pavlov's dog. Since I wasn't too keen on biting chunks out of my arm when there were other options, I set out on a few venom-collection missions. I would take a syringe and a few vials with me and go into town, searching out heavily-populated areas that had a greater percentage of high-temptation humans. After spending thirteen years trying to avoid those types of people, I had forgotten how easy it was to find them. It took me several tries to get the timing and extraction right, but eventually, I was able to get three ounces of venom into a glass vile. Unfortunately, I left the venom in the vile overnight, and in the morning, it had burned a hole through the thin glass wall and spilled onto the table. I still needed time to find a material that could safely hold the venom long enough for me to administer it.

Though my experiments were providing much-needed information, they were also having an adverse effect on my will-power. Subjecting myself to the killing urge so frequently was causing me to think about killing again, something I hadn't done with any regularity in years. It was causing enough of a problem that I had decided to change my strategy to self-inflicted wounds, a procedure I was ready to begin work on one Sunday evening in February when my research was abruptly put on hold.

I came back to the cabin after a routine run into town to find the building empty.

I was instantly troubled.

Harvey had never left the house in my absence before (at least, not to my knowledge), and after searching the nearby fields and the coastline, he was nowhere to be found.

I got on the telephone (we had one installed in the cabin so Harvey and Lucy could at least talk to each other) and called Jasper for help, since he had far more experience tracking vampires than I did. He was there in fifteen minutes, and we were on the hunt. We picked up Harvey's trail, heading along the coast for twenty miles or so before it disappeared into the ocean. From there, he could have gone anywhere (though I couldn't think of any motivation he might have had for going far). We spent all night combing the shoreline, and finally picked back up the trail all the way on the southeastern side of the island.

Along with an unwelcome piece of evidence.

A body.

"Well, at least we know what he's been doing," Jasper said with a tinge of dry humor as he inspected the blood-drained corpse floating in and out with the tide.

I hung my head in defeat.

So much for the 'special education,' I thought to myself as Jasper and I buried the body a quarter-mile from the coast.

The sun was just rising in the east as we finished taking care of the corpse, so we had to put off our search until late afternoon when some decent cloud cover returned. By that time, Harvey was far ahead of us. We tracked him for two more days, cleaning up after the messes he made as he criss-crossed the little island nation. By the time we found him, four innocent lives had been lost, each of which I assumed full responsibility for.

Jasper and I escorted Harvey back to the cabin on the north shore, taking the time during the trip to counsel him a little. He was genuinely remorseful for the lives he had ended – he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A local fisherman had stopped by the house to ask to use the telephone after his car had broken down nearby, and Harvey snapped into hunter-mode. In my attempts to protect him, I had kept Harvey away from living humans for the first six weeks of his vampire life. He had never encountered a warm body up-close, and as fate would have it, he had to face that challenge without my help.

Once we had Harvey safely tucked away in the cabin again, Jasper and I slipped out to talk things over, making sure to keep the building in sight in case Harvey had another lapse in concentration.

"I should have exposed him to live humans earlier," I began, staring at the ground in shame and frustration. "I failed him..."

"It's not your fault, Danny" Jasper responded. "It's not his fault either. He can't help it – he's a newborn."

"I know, but I thought surely with the proper instruction and support group... and with the bottled blood... I thought maybe things would be different..."

"It wouldn't matter what you did for him. He would have lashed out sooner or later. You can take the boy out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the boy. It's just the way it goes with newborns."

"Well, we certainly can't let him around Lucy now... at least not until I've had time to work with him a little more. Or until we change her..."

"Have you really thought that through, Danny? Changing Lucy? It's messy enough having one newborn to look after. No offense, but I don't think you could handle babysitting two at once."

"So what, then? Are we supposed to leave her human forever?"

"Maybe that's the best option. Listen, I don't fault you for what you did to Harvey. You had no choice – I would have done the same thing if I were you, but every time you make a new vampire, you're dooming people to die. Maybe you will be able to keep Harvey satisfied on bottled stuff – I hope you can – but it'll be a year or two before he'll be cooled off enough to live that way. You saved your brother, but four people already died because of it. How many more are we willing to sacrifice just so Lucy can be immortal, too?"

His words stung. I knew they were true, I just hated thinking about it. I had honestly believed that saving Harvey would have been without a toll on human life, and I still had more hope in him than Jasper did, but I saw now how dangerous it was to make new vampires, even in a controlled environment.

"I can be more careful from now on," I said after pausing to think. "I can take both of them far away from civilization. I'll go underground with them for a year or two, until they're strong enough, and then we'll rejoin society."

"You know that won't work. Hawkins won't let you go. Besides, as soon as you leave Emilio, you're visible again."

"Then I'll be visible."

"Danny... I know you feel responsible for all this mess with your brother's life. I know you want to fix it, but you don't have to. None of this is your fault – not even the four people today. It's just life. You roll with the punches, and you keep moving on. Can we at least agree to wait a while to let everybody's emotions cool down before we make a decision on what to do with Lucy?"

"Yeah, I suppose that's a good idea. Speaking of Lucy, I'd better check in on her. Would you mind waiting here with Harvey for an hour more?"
"Not at all. Take your time."

I went back to my apartment (which I hardly lived at anymore) to visit Lucy and give her the news, but she had already heard it from Harvey. She was still on the telephone with him when I arrived, and I could tell the subject wasn't sitting well with her. As soon as she hung up the phone, she turned to me, tears welling up in her eyes again.

"Four people? Harvey k-..." She couldn't bring herself to say the words as she began to sob.

"It was an honest mistake," I said in as soothing a tone as I could muster. "It was my fault, not his. I shouldn't have left him there alone. I should have prepared him better..."

"Does this mean he's still... he's still too dangerous to... to see me?"

Her pleading, watery eyes were breaking my heart. I wanted so badly to give her good news, but that would only hurt more in the end.

"I'm so sorry, Lucy, but it looks like it might be some time before he's strong enough to see you."

"How long?"

"I don't know. Maybe two months. Maybe six..."

She choked back more sobs as she took in the information, going quiet for a moment before collecting herself and speaking again.

"Change me into a vampire."

"Lucy... I can't do that..."
"Why not? I'm willing to accept responsibility for the decision. I'll become a monster if that's what it takes to be with Harvey again. I'll go through the pain. I don't care. I'll do it."

"It's not that simple, Lucy. I wish it were, believe me. I just need more time to figure out how to handle this. I'm not even saying changing you is out of the question – if I can find a safe way to do it, believe me, I will. I need more time, though."

"I don't know how much more I can take."

"Just a little more. For Harvey. Please..."

She nodded as new tears erupted again. "Is he okay? I know he must feel awful..."

"He's taking it pretty hard, but he'll get through it."

"I just wish I could hold him..."

"I know. Patience, Lucy. We'll figure all this out soon."

I left her and returned to Harvey. All in all, he was handling things much better than I would have in his position. Harvey was a good man, but he didn't have the same kind of self-accusing moral convictions that I had. After a few days of dealing with it, he accepted the fact that he had made a mistake that we all made before him, and he began to forgive himself.

Though the guilt Harvey carried was hurtful in many ways, there was a silver lining. The reality of his potential danger helped him cope with the separation from Lucy. He practically begged me to keep him away from her, even requesting that I hide her in case he had a moment of weakness and tried to go see her. He was completely on board with the current situation.

Lucy was a different story.

I watched as she became progressively more depressed with each day, begging me each time I saw her for just a visit, just five minutes with Harvey. I wanted so badly to give that to her, but I couldn't. It was too dangerous.

By the fourth day after Harvey's incident, I was becoming quite concerned for Lucy's well-being. She wasn't eating or sleeping properly, and I feared she would become sick – or worse – if things continued the way they were. I went to check on her early in the evening, bringing with me a fresh apple cobbler (her favorite dish, according to Harvey) to help cheer her up a bit. After knocking and waiting like usual, I opened the door and walked in, finding her in the kitchen sitting on a wooden chair, staring blankly at the wall.

It was definitely time for an intervention.

"Hey Lucy, I brought you something..."

"I can't do this, Grant," she responded through a cracked voice, still staring at the wall. "I can't go for months like this."

She turned to face me, looking at me with those pleading eyes again.

"You have to change me. Please..."

"Lucy, I told you-"

"Yes, you can!" She said more forcefully, standing up.

"It's too dangerous. I told you already, Harvey was lucky. It doesn't always turn out well..."

"I'm willing to risk it."

"Well I'm not. And neither is Harvey."

"It's not your life! It's not your choice. Please, Grant... please..."

"What I did for Harvey was only because I had no other choice. I would never have done it any other way. It's not the way things are meant to be..."

"I don't care how things are meant to be!" She shouted, as angry tears filled her eyes. "I have to be with him. I have to!"

She reached out behind her and pulled a large kitchen knife from the counter.

I went on high alert.

"Lucy – what are you doing with that?"

"I'm forcing your hand," she said, trembling with emotion.

"Dear God, Lucy! Don't be rash. We can talk about this..."

"You changed Harvey to save his life – you'll do it to save mine."

I began to panic. This was very, very bad.

"Lucy, I told you... Harvey got lucky. If Jasper hadn't been there, I very well may have killed him. And besides that, your blood smells much better than his did. If you shed one drop, I may not be able to control myself. Lucy, I'll kill you. Please, think about what you're doing."

"I have thought about it. I've been thinking about it all day. This is what I want, Grant. This is what I want, okay?"

She rested the blade of the knife against her pale, smooth wrist, breathing heavily. I tried to think my way out of the situation, but my mind was cluttered with thoughts of ripping into her neck and draining her body of every ounce of sweet, warm blood in it.

The last few weeks of experimentation had left me weaker than I should have been, and the imminent bloodshed was triggering every hunting instinct in me. I wanted to reach across the room with my ability and make her drop the knife, but I couldn't think clearly. Besides that, I was already using every bit of focus I could muster to curb the urge to pounce on her.

"Jasper!" I yelled, hoping he would somehow hear me. And then I had a terrible realization.

It was after dark.

Jasper, Emilio and the others were already at the Diamond Lounge for the evening. If I attacked Lucy, there was nobody in this building who could stop me.

Including myself.

"Lucy, for God's sake, put the knife down. I don't want to kill you. I could never forgive myself..."

"You won't kill me. I trust you." She said as she gently pressed the blade closer, bending the skin but not yet breaking it. Venom rushed to my mouth in preparation for a feast.

I have to get out of here, I thought in a panicked flurry of thoughts. Maybe if I jump out the window... but if I leave and she cuts herself, she'll bleed out and die anyway. God! What am I going to do? If I stay, I'll kill her...

"Listen... I've been working on other ways to change you. There are safer methods. You don't have to die."

"I don't care!" She said, shouting through her tears. "I'd rather die than live like this."

"You don't mean that, Lucy."

"Yes, I do," she said, exhaling slowly and closing her eyes.

"Lucy, don't..."

"I'm sorry Grant."

"Don't."

I saw her arm flex as she began to move the knife, and I dove for her, moving with all my vampire speed across the room.

I wasn't fast enough.

With a heave, she plunged the knife into her wrist, slicing crosswise through the shallow arteries carrying blood to her hand. She dropped the knife as I collided with her, driving both of us into the wall behind her.

As soon as we hit the floor, I knew I was doomed.

I leaped back off of her, trying to run for help, but my legs wouldn't respond. All I could do was stare at the dark red blood that was dripping from her wrist, forming a little pool underneath her.

A monster welled up inside of me that I hadn't seen in years. I fought against it with all my might, but it was a lost cause. I felt my body lower instinctively into an attack position as I prepared to jump onto this poor girl who was shaking on the kitchen floor. The battle was over. The monster had won.

I was going to kill her.

God forgive me, I whispered through my thoughts with the last bit of sanity I had remaining.

And I attacked.

16. ROUNDING CORNERS

EVERYTHING WAS A BLUR OF ECSTACY AND AGONY AS I FOUGHT with all my might against the ravenous beast inside me.

I wasn't going down without a fight. Not this time.

If I killed my brother's wife, it wouldn't be because I didn't try hard enough to save her.

Think! Think about what you're doing, Grant. Think about Harvey – picture his face when he finds out what happened to his bride. Think about how you'll feel if you don't stop this right now.

I pushed against the animalistic numbness with all my power, refusing to succumb to the pressure descending on me. I had to keep some degree of conscious thought. It was the only chance I had of stopping.

While the battle raged on in my head, Lucy struggled for her life. Fortunately for her, she hadn't lost nearly as much blood as Harvey had when I bit him. The sweet taste of her blood more than offset that starting advantage, though. As good as she had smelled, her blood tasted even better, among the finest I had ever experienced. It filled my vampire body with an artificial happiness as it spread through my body, warm and delicious, sort of like a barbiturate high, only without the threat of overdosing. It was Lucy that would have to pay the price if I got carried away.

Fight! Fight, dammit! Keep thinking, I urged my conscious mind, as the heaviness grew stronger. I could feel the convulsions in Lucy's body growing fainter, until she was completely motionless. The pressure of her pulsing blood in my mouth lessened as her body struggled to continue circulating with a drastically diminished supply of life-giving fluid. I wanted so badly to just give in and enjoy the flavor while I could, but I couldn't. I couldn't stop thinking about the lives I was destroying. I couldn't stop imagining my brother's face when he heard the news.

I couldn't let the monster win.

Stop! Stop, Grant. It's not too late. Stop.

Stop.

I don't know where the power came from, but something else welled up inside of me, something good. Something noble.

The power to stop.

I fought with all my strength to control myself, and the tide turned. The heaviness began to lift, my consciousness returned to prominence. My hands tightened their grip around Lucy's wrist and pushed against my mouth, and with one last monumental struggle, I released her.

I immediately moved away from her, backing up to the opposite wall as I inspected the grisly scene in the kitchen. Lucy's body was pale and motionless. There was no sign of breathing, and no sound of a pulse.

Only blood.

The red fluid was everywhere – on her arm, on the ground... on me. After taking four or five seconds to settle myself, I went back over to her, peering into her body to see if there was any hope she might still be alive. Her heart was motionless. The venom in her bloodstream was ample to perform the change, but without a working pump, it wouldn't circulate enough to get the job done.

She wasn't going to make it on her own – something had to be done.

I pulled all my concentration together and reached into her chest with my mind, willing her heart to move again. The organ twitched, but couldn't regain any rhythm. Desperate, I placed my hands over her ribcage and begin to thrust, trying to compress the muscle and pump the blood myself. At first it did nothing, but after watching with my perception and changing my tactics, I started to cause a little blood to pump. Then a little more. And a little more still. I settled into a repetitive cadence, pushing on the heart with my hands and trying to coax it back into motion with my mind.

I wouldn't let her die. I was going to make this work.

"Come on, Lucy!" I said with determination as I worked on her. "Work! Work! Come on..."

I worked on her for fifteen minutes, pumping the remaining blood myself, before something finally changed. Whether by the healing power of the venom or through some other miracle, her heart began to move slowly on its own. I stopped thrusting with my hands and concentrated on my mental coaxing, helping the weakened muscle to work back into a steady rhythm. Before long, it took off on its own, spreading the healing liquids through her body, saving her life, and most likely, my own with it.

Her body was still motionless at first, which was good, since I needed to get her out of the apartment. I couldn't have a screaming, writhing body across the wall from my human neighbors. I took a cloth and washed the blood from her arm, changed my shirt, and put a coat on over her blouse (which was also stained with blood).

With the evidence covered up, I carried her in my arms down the seldom-used staircase of the apartment building and out through the maintenance exit, avoiding the public eye as much as possible. Hawkins' Cadillac was gone, and I didn't own an automobile myself, so I had to carry her to the cabin on foot. Fortunately for me, the image of a woman passed-out drunk wasn't all too uncommon in Havana, and I made it through the casino district and into the countryside without incident.

By the time I got back to the cabin, it was much later than usual, and Harvey was watching for me at the front window, worried about Lucy, no doubt. As soon as he realized it was her I was carrying in my arms, he rushed out the door to meet me.

"Grant! What wrong? Is she... is she okay?"

"She is now," I said grimly.

She may have survived, but the end result of her rescue wasn't necessarily a good thing.

"What happened to her?" He asked as I carried her into the cabin and laid her on the floor. "She looks... bad..."

"She forced my hand," I said, showing him her wrist, which still bore the wound from her attempted suicide.

"Oh, Luce..."

"She was desperate. She did the only thing she felt like she could."
"You... you saved her?"
"Barely. She's going to go through a veritable hell over the next few days, but she'll be okay."
He pulled her to his chest, holding her twitching body with obvious affection.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry I drove you to this. So sorry..."

Harvey held her there for three days, neither drinking, nor moving, nor even speaking except in whispers into her ear. Meanwhile, I called Jasper over to discuss the situation, hoping to get his help and advice. What I got instead was disheartening, to say the least.

"I'm leaving, Danny," He said to me as soon as the cabin was out of hearing range.

"What? Why?"

"This life here, this job... it's not what I want. There's something else out there for me, a way to live with my conscience. I have to find out what that is."

I couldn't have him leave – not right now.

"Jasper, look... if this is about Lucy..."

"It's not just the newborns, Danny."

"I didn't have a choice – she tried to kill herself-"

"I know. I didn't say it was your fault. It's just... it's just that all this with newborns, and the body count I'm racking up in Havana, and all the hits I've been doing with Hawkins... it all just adds up after a while. This place is toxic – I need to get out of here while I still have a conscience."

"Jasper, please... don't go yet. I need your help with Harvey and Lucy. You know newborns so much better than I do. Besides... you're the best friend I've got."

"I'm sorry, Danny, but I've already made up my mind. I talked to Hawkins and Persephone – they'll cut you in on my share of the jobs, if you want. I packed up all my stuff. It's done."

"Where will you go?"

"I've got a couple of old friends from my days in Texas. I'm going to stay with them for a while and clear my head."

"You'll at least stay in touch, though, right?"

"Of course. I'll keep you up to date on where I'm living – in case you ever decide to get a change of scenery yourself. For now, though, you've got your hands full here. I'll leave you to it. Goodbye, Danny."

And with that, he left and never looked back.

With two new vampires in my care and Jasper gone, things started to look a lot different in Havana. I half-considered leaving the city myself, but there was always the threat of Lief in the back of my mind, not to mention the Volturi, who, I assumed at least, were still out to kill me. I didn't really have the option of leaving, so I made the best of the situation I was given.

Hawkins and Persephone were eager to offer me Jasper's position in the group – they needed the extra help on vampire hits. I agreed to help them on more of the missions on the condition that arrangements could be made for Harvey and Lucy's care. Our eventual solution was to bring them along with us. Emilio served as a babysitter of sorts, which at least gave him something to do besides worry. Harvey and Lucy didn't mind the change of scenery either – when they weren't on a job with me, I kept them far away from the human population.

Things were a lot more exciting with newborns around. Everything was new to them – running, jumping, swimming, skydiving – watching them experience it for the first time was almost as much fun as reliving things myself.

Harvey was faster than Lucy – and stronger. Of course, he was faster and stronger than me, too, but that's to be expected with newborn vampires. He excelled at everything physical, taking to things much faster than I did at his age. I gave him intermittent hand-to-hand combat training, and I could quickly see that, while it was a learned skill of mine, it was a natural talent of Harvey's. He picked up on things so quickly, in fact, that Hawkins regularly pestered me about allowing Harvey to join the coven when he passed his 'one year' mark.

Not only was Harvey good in athletic areas, but he also had a bit of a gift that I was able to identify. He seemed to have an uncanny knack for sizing up people's strengths and weaknesses, whether they related to physicality, emotions or intelligence. Located somewhere between Coraline's judge of character and Hawkins' perception of desires, Harvey knew what made people 'tick.' This made him very good at winning favor with people. Like a good salesman, he always knew what approach would work best, whether he was working Hawkins for an extra travel day returning from a job or calling someone's bluff in a game of cards. It was fascinating for me to watch the mechanical perception I had take on a different expression in my brother. It added to my theory that vampire abilities were in large part exaggerations of hereditary, inborn human traits.

While Harvey excelled at the physical side of the vampire nature, Lucy excelled at the mental side. Maybe it was the six weeks of exposure to vampirism that she had before her conversion, maybe it was my revised teaching methods, but whatever the cause, she seemed to have a relatively easy time with controlling her urges to hunt and kill. I took a more gradual approach with my education once she was changed, systematically exposing Harvey and Lucy to increasing amounts of human interaction. Harvey struggled somewhat, especially at first, but Lucy soaked it in, performing admirably. She had a sweet, compassionate nature that lent itself easily to a peaceful life.

We never recognized a formal "special ability" in Lucy, but she did seem to have an enormous amount of compassion for others, which is probably why it was so much easier for her to resist killing. I remembered her volunteer work as a nurse during the war, and how caring she was for Harvey when he was injured – it seemed that she just carried that loving heart with her into her vampire state.

Not only was Lucy compassionate, she was also quite beautiful as a vampire – maybe even more so than Persephone (which caused no shortage of jealous feelings in the coven). Outside of Coraline, she was quite possibly the fairest vampire I had ever seen, which Harvey appreciated thoroughly. The two of them spent a ridiculous amount of time enjoying 'husband and wife' relations, so much so that after three months of living in the cabin with them, I had a house built for myself on the land we owned, one far enough away that I wouldn't hear them. I was happy for them, but that didn't mean I wanted to listen to them all day.

Whatever I was teaching them, it seemed to be working. Harvey only had one other slip-up in killing, and Lucy never slipped at all. By the time they had been with me for five months, they were controlled enough to go into town with me (albeit with a lot of effort and constant supervision). I kept a regular stockpile of refrigerated blood at my new house, and the three of us (along with Emilio) sustained ourselves on it contently.

The payout from my increased workload was immensely larger than what I was accustomed to, to the extent that I had trouble figuring out how to spend it all. Besides building a little one-bedroom house for myself next to the fishing cabin, I also had one built for Harvey and Lucy, and purchased my own car – a 1948 Cadillac 62 series. It was my baby – I never let anyone else drive it (even my persuasive brother... wait – especially my persuasive brother) and I kept it washed and waxed to perfection. There was never a single day when anyone saw it soiled or tarnished in any way.

After buying everything I wanted, I decided to give a portion of my earnings to Harvey and Lucy as an allowance, and the remainder I used to invest heavily in the post-war American economy, buying up large portions of stocks in companies like General Electric, General Motors and Sears & Roebuck. It felt great to finally be on equal financial footing with Hawkins and Persephone – I had everything I could ever want. Everything, that is, except Coraline. But that was another story.

Losing Jasper had been hard at first, but having my brother around had filled in the hole quite nicely. We had so much fun – the two of us – that for the first time in a while, I didn't really feel lonely at all. Sure, I still thought about Coraline often, but the only times it really hurt were the quiet times, which were virtually nonexistent with Harvey and Lucy around all the time. For better or worse, I really was getting over her.

As good as my life was in 1948, not everything was roses and buttercups. Lucy's decision to slit her wrist, while providing the family dynamic I enjoyed, also injured my conscience in a seemingly irreversible way. Ever since that night, the memories of my murderous past had haunted me, threatening to reignite the blood-thirst I had worked so long to stifle. It's not that I had any failures – I didn't even have any close calls – but I did think about it.

A lot.

All of a sudden, people walking by on the street would catch my attention. The scent of a particularly enticing human would force me to leave the room and get outside for some fresh air. The thought of tasting warm blood again – just once – lingered on my mind often, and for long periods of time. It wasn't a welcome change, to be sure, but it was a change nonetheless.

Further complicating the matter was my increased involvement in the assassin work with Hawkins. Over the course of the year, I had become the go-to option for 'natural cause' hits. I perfected the process of artificial asphyxiation, stroke, and heart failure. It was the ultimate skill for cover-ups; no medical examiner would ever suspect foul play. I also pitched in on several vampire hits, giving me the opportunity to exercise my stagnating combat skills.

Though I excelled at the work, it was taking a toll on my conscience. With every successive hit, I felt a little less human, a little further removed from the decent man Coraline had known and cared for, further from the role model I should have been for Harvey and Lucy. I justified the work, though, claiming to do it in the name of protection for them – protection from an enemy I never even attempted to pursue. I got so comfortable in my busy life in Havana that I completely dropped the idea of finding Lief and bringing him to justice. I was safe in my bubble, and perfectly content to stay that way.

The trouble is, that wasn't me at all. All my life, I had lived with a strong sense of justice, of protecting those I love. All these little concessions were wearing away at my moral footing, leaving less and less of the good man I was supposed to be.

It was only a matter of time before I crashed.

Harvey and I spent a lot of time together doing all sorts of things, but one of our most frequent activities together was pool-sharking. I hadn't really discovered billiards until after Jasper had left the coven. Emilio needed a new partner to play with, and we both soon realized I was born to play the game. It was the ultimate sport for the scientifically-minded – simply determine the right angle, speed and trajectory, and everything fell perfectly into place. With my calculating mind and vampire-honed fine motor skills, I was an absolute god at billiards.

I rarely met anyone who could give me a competitive challenge, so after a while, I turned to something a little less scientific – taking unsuspecting people for large sums of money. I had a hard time baiting the hook at first – people in Havana were used to pool sharks. It wasn't until my brother joined the operation that things really got interesting.

Harvey wasn't much good at pool, but he was excellent at finding the right people to play against. The two of us would spend hours in various pool halls, looking for the right sucker to take for a ride. Sometimes it backfired, but most of the time we won, taking people for hundreds, or even occasionally thousands of dollars. It wasn't really about the money – we already had more than we could spend – it was about the challenge.

It was on one of these normal, pool-sharking nights that the bottom finally fell out of my thinning moral safety-net.

It was late October, nearing Halloween, and the population of suckers in Havana was high. Just a few blocks down from the Diamond Lounge was a high-society casino and pool hall that Harvey and I frequented. I went there one Friday evening, arriving just after dark, as was my custom, and began scoping out the situation. Harvey was supposed to meet me there at dusk, but as I had come to learn over the last year, he was one of those people who was perpetually late. Add to that the fact that he and Lucy were probably engaged in their favorite activity before he came, and it was no surprise that he showed up a half-hour late on most occasions.

I was growing tired of looking at tables when I heard Harvey pull up out front. I went to the window to see if it was him, and sure enough, there he was, 35 minutes late. He hopped off his midnight black Harley Davidson motorcycle and walked toward the front door like a celebrity, tossing his keys to the valet attendant with a wink and his near-permanent grin. For all the good I tried to instill in my brother, he still picked up several things from Hawkins, not the least of which was this slightly cocky swagger that he put on when he was in public.

"You're late, big shot," I said with a playful swat to the back of his head as he walked in the door.

"This is the same time I always come, G. I'm on time. Did you find any good tables yet?"

"Not really. That's your job, remember?"
"Yeah, yeah... okay, let me have a look around."

The two of us bought drinks that we pretended to consume, and set out to find the challenge for the night.

It didn't take long.

"There," he said, pointing with his eyes. "See that brawny chap over there at table eight? He's a stud – he's been taking people for loads of cash all week long. I didn't think he'd still be in town."

I looked over at the player he was referring to. He was a huge man – a vampire, to be sure. About 6'5" and easily 260 pounds of muscles upon muscles.

"That guy? Are you sure? If we make him mad, he's likely to rip us in half."

"Nope. That's the guy. It's time to turn his own game against him. You in, or are you... chicken?"

"I'm in," I said, cutting off his 'chicken' sound effects. "Let's show him how a champ plays."

We walked over to the table and watched him dismantle a South American tourist, collecting a stack of cash from him after the massacre was over.

He was good.

I was better.

"Mind if I jump in for the next game?" I asked the big vampire as he stood there counting his bills.

"That depends," He said in an American accent. "Are you willing to put a little money down?"

"Sure. How much?"

"Fifty dollars. That is, if that's not too much for you..." He grinned playfully. There was something strange about his eyes – they seemed almost golden, not at all like the red-trimmed pupils I was used to seeing. I would have asked him about it, but I had business to get to.

"Fifty dollars, huh? That's pocket change. Fifty it is. I'm Danny Watson, by the way."

"Emmett McCarty," he said with a smile, reaching his thick hand out to shake mine. "Nice to meet you."

We played the game, and I intentionally lost, making sure not to look too inept. He took the bait beautifully.

"Time to pay up, Watson," he said after the game, looking as if he was trying not to gloat. "You know, it's not very often I get to play someone that has... um, so much in common with me," he said with a wink. "It was fun. Thanks for the cash."

"Let's play again," I said, playing on his euphoria. "Double or nothing."

"Think you've got me figured out, 'eh? Well, alright. I'll teach you another lesson. You set this time."

We played another round, and I lost again, making it a little closer this time. Harvey and I had a system of signals set up so he could clue me in on whether to push my luck a little further or wrap it up and get my money. He was giving me the all-clear, so I pushed for another game.

Then another.

And another.

Emmett was living it up – this was going to be a huge take.

After the fifth game, a beautiful young vampire came to talk to him – his mate, I assumed – which gave me a chance to check in with Harvey and see how we were doing.

"How much further do you think we can take him?" I asked very quietly as Emmett talked with his mate for a minute or two.

"It depends. Is your head in the game or not?" He asked curtly.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about that woman you keep looking at – the one at the roulette table. You've been watching her all night. What's the deal with her?"

I hadn't really noticed how obvious it had been.

There was a woman in the room – a human – that had been pulling at my attention all night. She smelled amazing. Every time she got up to move, I would catch her scent wafting through the room, and it was driving me mad with cravings.

"I'm fine, Harvey. It's nothing. She just smells good."
"Well so does the rest of the room. How do you think I feel? Keep your concentration on winning so we can get out of here, okay?"

"You got it. So, how are we looking?"

"I think it's time to cash in. Looks like the wifey might want to be going soon."

Harvey was usually right about those sorts of things, so we waited patiently until the vampire couple was finished talking.

"Okay, Emmett, I've got you figured out now," I said as soon as his mate left. "Let's play one more – throw everything in the pot."

"You just don't know when to quit, do ya? Nah, I'm done. Time to pay up."

I trusted Harvey enough not to panic – I just needed to push harder.

"We'll add to the pot," I said, "just round it up. Eight hundred dollars."

"I would, but Rosalie's about ready to leave..."

"Then how about this?" I said, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the keys to my Cadillac.

"Nineteen forty-eight Cadillac sixty-two series. One thousand ninety-two miles."

"Wow. You're crazy, man."

"Not crazy. Just confident. I'm going to beat you this time."
He was thinking about it.

"So, what am I supposed to put into the pot then?" He responded, getting closer to taking the deal. "I didn't bring a car with me..."

"One thousand dollars. If you win, I'll give you five hundred in cash, as well as the car."

"Is he serious?" Emmett asked Harvey.

"Seriously insane," Harvey answered, still playing his role. "What are you doing, Danny? How many games have you lost in a row? Six? Seven? Give it up, man. Don't give away your car. That's a nice car..."
"I'll buy another one," I said nonchalantly. "So what'll it be, Emmett? Are you up for one more game?"

"Okay, one more. But I'm breaking."

"Fine."

He broke, taking stripes, and proceeded to go on a near-perfect run. By the time he was finished, there were only two striped balls left on the table.

"I can feel the steering wheel in my hands already," he taunted, a huge grin stretching across his face. "You're gonna need a miracle."

I didn't need a miracle. I had the laws of physics.

I sized up the board and went right to work, one perfect shot after another. One by one, the solids found their pockets, as Emmett became less and less confident in his win.

It was a thing of beauty.

Finally, I sunk the '8' ball, hanging up my stick and walking over for my payment. Emmett was flabbergasted.

"You... what in the world?..."

"I believe the bet was one thousand dollars. Time to pay up, friend."

"Crap. Rosalie's gonna kill me," he said, running his hand through his curly hair. "She's got the rest of the money. I've gotta go get her."

I was content to let him go, but I caught a glimpse of the mystery woman with the fragrant blood. She was putting on her coat and heading toward the door. I made a snap decision, one that I wish I could take back.

"I'll go with you," I said to Emmett, "wouldn't want you running off, or anything." I chuckled, working to keep my intentions hidden as Emmett started to walk off to find his mate.

I grabbed Harvey's arm as I passed by. "I'll be right back, Harv. Why don't you see if you can find one more table tonight?"

I had no intention of coming right back. I was going to feed tonight.

I followed Emmett and got the money. He was right – his mate was furious. I didn't have time to enjoy the humor, though. I had to get out the door and catch up with my meal.

I snuck out the back exit and followed my nose, staying far enough behind the woman to keep her from becoming suspicious. Things were in motion that couldn't be stopped. It was going to happen tonight.

I just need to get it over with, get it out of my system, I told myself. Better for one woman to die so I can think clearly again than risking who knows how many by leaving myself this way. It's the responsible thing to do.

I followed her until she finally came to a parking garage. It was dark and relatively quiet – the perfect place to snatch a body away. Closer and closer I stalked, giving little thought or argument to my actions. I was tired; I had been fighting for so long... I deserved a break.

I closed in to within thirty feet as she came up to her car, and got ready to strike. Venom rushed to my mouth, just as it had with Lucy in my apartment, but this time, I wasn't fighting it. It's going to happen sooner or later, I told myself, it might as well be now.

Silently, I raced across the concrete floor and jumped to take her. She tried to scream, but I covered her mouth, muffling the sound to a point where no one around would notice. I would have sunk my teeth right into her neck, but I made eye contact with her, and I paused. They were full of fear – her eyes – fear and pleading. Her mouth may have been covered, but her eyes were begging for her life. I hesitated for a moment, holding her there, as the weakened good man inside me tried to put up a last-minute defense. I didn't really want to kill her, I just wanted relief from the constant torment. I wanted a moment's solace from the urge and the resistance.

"I'm so sorry," I said to her, "it's nothing personal."

I readied my mouth to bite, but I was suddenly thrust to the side, losing my grip on the woman and colliding with a concrete pillar. It was Harvey – he had come to try and stop me.

Stupid boy.

My animal instincts had already kicked in, and I reacted to my brother as a threat. We engaged in a high-intensity wrestling match, his newborn strength against my superior training and experience. The battle went on for at least sixty seconds, but in the end, experience won out over strength. I pinned my brother down, my hands holding his arms with my knee on his throat. I may have done terrible things to him, but his eyes, too, caught mine, and jarred me back into my senses.

"Grant," He choked out as I pushed against his windpipe. "Stop. It's me, Harvey. Stop. Please..."

Sobriety returned to me suddenly, and I jumped back off of him. The woman I had been stalking had run away, leaving me alone in the garage with my brother. I slumped to the ground, my head in my hands as I realized what I had almost done – to both of them.

"What is going on with you, Grant?" Harvey asked as he stood up, rubbing his neck where I had been squeezing. "Have you totally lost it?"

"I... I got caught up in the moment. I don't know, I just... I just snapped. I'm sorry."
He changed his tone as he saw my remorse, walking over to stand beside me.

"That's alright, man. We all make mistakes sometimes. I know I do..."

"No, there's no excuse for what I did. I'm supposed to be the one bailing you out. I'm supposed to be the strong one, and look at me..."
"Like I said, it's not easy for me either. It's not easy for anyone, even Lucy. Tonight was your hard night. Tomorrow might be mine. Sorry, I didn't mean to come down on you like that, I was just a little worked up..."

"No, Harvey, you were right to be upset. I just haven't been myself lately. It's this place, this business... it's not good for us – any of us. I haven't been this close to killing someone in... years. I haven't even thought of it. And now, if you hadn't been here... it's not me, Harv. I've left that lifestyle."

"It's because of me and Lucy, isn't it? We made you taste it warm again..."

"It's not just that. It's everything. It's killing for a living. I tell myself they all deserve what they're getting, but deep down I know that's not always true. And living here, around all these other vampires that are so loose about everything – especially hunting... it's wearing on me."

"Well... what are we gonna do then? We can't just pack up and leave. This is our home, after all..."
"It doesn't have to be. I don't know... I'll give it some thought. Talk it over with Lucy, see how she would feel about the possibility of moving."

"I will. You ready to get home? The police will probably be here soon. You really scared the living daylights out of that girl."

He laughed, punching me in the shoulder.

"I guess I did, huh?" I conceded, allowing a reluctant smile to rest on my face for just a moment. I didn't feel like smiling, though. I felt like crying.

I stayed in my house all the rest of that night, as well as the next day, thinking about what to do. I could see clearly now how much the city life had corrupted me. Jasper was right – Havana was toxic. I had to leave while that good man inside was still strong enough to go, if not for my own sake, then for Harvey and Lucy. I decided to stay with Hawkins and the gang through the end of the year, but after that, I was getting out.

There were plenty of other places to make a living out there.

I was going to find one.

17. INFORMANT

- - - CORALINE GRAY - - -

A BREAK IN THE MONOTONY IS A RARE GIFT FOR SOMEONE

under house arrest, so it was no surprise that seeing an old friend walk across my path would be a major event for me.

After a lot of pleading on my part, Philippe had petitioned the Volturi to grant me some kind of job in the underground city, since I was there all the time. One job among the random collection of menial tasks they assigned to me was picking up messages from the outside world and delivering them to the 'big three.'

It was an easy enough job, but it always made me nervous. Marcus was actually really nice to me, sort of in an elderly-next-door-neighbor kind of way. Caius didn't even notice I existed – he was always too busy with something else. The real danger was with Aro. Just one touch and he could see through my cover – see that this 'fugitive' Philippe had been searching for all this time was actually a close friend of mine. That would be doom for me, and probably for Grant, too, so I always made sure to keep my distance and get the job over with as quickly as possible.

Something unexpected happened one November evening, though, something causing me to change my routine.

I was standing in the main foyer, waiting for the grouchy vampire on duty there to hand over the mail for the Volturi when I saw someone I recognized walk through the room – someone I hadn't seen in years.

"Theodore!" I half-yelled across the room, leaving the mail service for a moment as I walked over to him. "I haven't seen you in years – how's it going?"

"I am very well, thank you," he said formally. "And how have you been?"
"Um... well, I've been better, but I'm still alive, so..."

"Well said."

He seemed nervous – he was anxious to get somewhere... and being around me was making him a little uncomfortable.

I started to get curious.

"So, what brings you here? I thought you and Hermes vowed to avoid Volterra at all costs..."

"Yes, well... um, times... do change. Besides, it was always our lack of welcome that precluded us from traveling here."

He didn't really answer my question. He was dodging it.

"So, what changed? You're welcome here now?"

He started fidgeting with his hands, trying to think of a roundabout way to answer me. He was hiding something... something he was worried I may not like.

Now I had to know what it was.

"The Volturi have been consulting me for advice on how they might repair relations with Hermes."

Total lie. Not even close to the truth.

"Really? Wow, I would have thought they would just extend the welcome to him directly, since that was all that was keeping the two of you away..."

"Yes, well..." he looked at his watch a little longer than necessary to make sure I got the message. "I really must be going. It was nice catching up with you."

Whatever he was here for, it was serious enough to have him acting really weird. I needed a good mystery, so I decided to take the scenic route with my mail and follow him. I grabbed the stack of letters and trailed Theodore at a distance, making sure to stay back far enough to avoid detection.

We passed through a series of hallways and ballrooms before he got away, stepping into a restricted area on the far northern side of the compound – the side where the high-rollers lived. People like Demetri, and Alec and Jane.

And Philippe.

Judging by the way he was acting around me, and the entrance he used, I had a pretty good hunch he was here to talk to Philippe. I knew I would never get close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation using conventional methods, but I did have another, sneakier idea I was willing to try.

I ran quickly over to the meeting hall to drop off the mail for the Volturi, and headed back north, only this time, I went a couple of stories up, into one of the lower-level water drains under the city. I came to this area from time to time to get a change of scenery, and I had noticed faint voices coming from the floors below me. It was a long shot, but if I could get situated above Philippe's room, there was a chance I could listen in on his conversation with Theodore.

I walked slowly and quietly through the large tunnel (which hadn't had water in it in a long time), listening for the right voices. It took me a minute, but I did hear Philippe's voice faintly.

"If you understood how im... my reputation right now, then... going to need... certainty (or maybe certainly?)..."

It was Philippe's voice, but I couldn't understand half of the words. I pressed my ear against the wall, hoping to pick up a little extra sound transference. It helped, but not much.

"...as soon as possible. I want it done and over with."

"That should not be a problem," the other voice said.

It was Theodore. I was right.

"Everything is in place. I sent the packet with my observations just as you requested."

"And you're sure there are no others that would get in the way? No one loosely associated that you didn't notice? I don't want this coming back on me."

"I am certain. As long as you handle the two strong ones, the others should be easy enough to terminate. By the way, if I may be so forward... how exactly are you intending to separate them – without giving anything away?"

"Who said I wasn't giving thin-"

Suddenly I was interrupted by a voice that was way too loud to be two stories down.

"Say, what are you doing up here?"

I spun around in a flash, afraid that I had been caught spying. In the distance, walking through the dirty stone tunnel behind me was Athenodora, one of the Volturi wives.

What on earth is she doing here? Great – now I'll never know what all that was about.

"Athenodora, so nice to see you again," I responded politely, trying to play it cool. "I get so tired of seeing the same walls and ceilings all the time – I just wanted to walk around and get a change of scenery."

"I completely understand," she said, lifting up her elegant ball gown slightly to keep from getting the bottom of it dirty as she walked right up to me. "I do enjoy the easy life, but it tends to get a bit dull from time to time."

"So, what are you doing up here?" Especially dressed like that...

"Caius and I had a bit of a... difference of opinion. I came up here to think. And to give both of our tempers time to return to normal."

She didn't seem like the type whose temper was ever anything but normal. She was telling the truth, though. Guess I really didn't know her all that well.

"Well, I won't keep you from your 'thinking time,'" I said with a smile, trying to keep her moving along so I could hear the conversation again.

She had different plans.

"No, actually, I think it may help to have someone of the female persuasion to talk to. You know, it really is a shame that you've lived here for, what is it now – three years? And we've never had the chance to get to know one another. I hope you don't mind me dropping my troubles on you, but it would be a splendid way to learn more about each other."

You've got to be kidding me. Three years ignoring me, and now she wants to be best buddies? For the love of God...

I nodded and played 'polite' with her for at least ten minutes (though it felt more like ten thousand), trying to sneak a few conversation-ending cues in wherever I could. Eventually, she either got the message, or got tired of hearing herself speak, and she left. I watched her walk down the long tunnel, waiting anxiously to put my ear back to the wall – and hoping there was still something to hear.

I was getting a bad feeling about this whole thing.
As soon as the coast was clear, I began listening again, this time hearing Theodore's voice first.

"...would have preferred it in cash, but this will... ...soon as I am back in Casa Blanca."

"Fine. Whatever makes you feel better. Oh, and just to be sure we understand each other... ...anyone, no matter wh-... ...clear enough for you?"

"Y-yes... perfectly."

"Good. Then I think we're finished here. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make, a fugitive to kill, and a plane to catch. Ciao."

A door opened and shut underneath me – the conversation was over – but I hardly noticed. I was too busy trying desperately to think of some other possible meaning to the phrase "fugitive to kill." The only one that came to mind was a very, very bad one.

Grant.

Oh, my God... Theodore – he knows! He knows who Grant is... if Philippe showed him the drawing... Oh, this is bad. This is very bad. I have to find out what he told him. Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions... I have to find out.

I took off in a dead run, racing through the network of tunnels to get back to the foyer before Theodore left.

I needed to know whether I was going to kill him or not.

I must have miscalculated how much time it would take him to get back to there; I ended up waiting for about three minutes for him to arrive. I wanted to jump down his throat the moment he came through the door, but causing a scene wasn't really going to help things. I needed to talk to him in private, so I came up with a plan.

And for once, it worked perfectly.

"Hey Theodore!" I said cheerfully as he walked into the foyer. I put on the best 'happy to see you' act I could come up with as I walked over to meet him. He was still pretty nervous being around me.

"H-hello again, Coraline," he said, avoiding eye contact.

Definitely guilty.

"Is your appointment over already?"

"Well, uh... yes. At least, the first one is..."

"Are you gonna be sticking around for a while? I mean, it is a long trip here from Casa Blanca..."
"No... um, I am afraid this trip is strictly business." He was pretty confused about why I was acting so friendly all of a sudden. I decided to clear things up a bit.

"Aww, that's too bad," I said, working up a sultry, pouty face as I traced the collar of his jacket, tugging ever so slightly on his lapel as I worked my way down. "I was hoping we might be able to spend some time together. Alone."

His interest perked up immediately.

"Time... alone?"

"Uh-huh. You know, living under house arrest like I do, a girl gets really lonely." I moved in closer to him, looking down at his tie as I grasped it in my hands and pulled him a little closer still. "I never have anyone to... enjoy time with. A girl's got her needs, you know. I was hoping maybe we could help each other out a bit." I looked up as seductively as I could manage, allowing the slightest bit of a smile to come across my face. "That is, if you're not too busy..."

Bingo.

Theodore's eyes had always enjoyed having me around; this wasn't the first time he had thought about doing immoral things with me. It was the first time he thought it might actually go somewhere.

"Um... well, actually, I b-believe I could free up a little bit of time... since, uh, you... are in such need of company. It...uh... would be the chivalrous thing to do."

"Very, very chivalrous," I said with a teasing smile as I backed up, still holding onto his tie. "Would you like to see my room?"

"I would... l-uh... love to."

He was in, hook line and sinker. The stupid grin on his face gave it away easily.

He thought he was getting action.

I was gonna give him action, alright, just not the kind he was expecting.

I led him down several stories to the floor where my room was, checking discretely on the way to make sure we wouldn't attract any unwanted attention if things got loud. There was nobody in sight – it was perfect.

As soon as we were both inside my room, I shut the door delicately and placed my hand on his chest.

And then I shoved him into the wall.

"What did you tell him?" I growled, getting in his face as I pressed him against the wall with my hands.

He was completely dumbfounded.

"I... I...uh... tell who?"
"Philippe, stupid. I heard you two talking. What did you tell him?"
"Philippe? Nothing... um... just checking in on some routine business – consulting, actually. Will you let me go now?"

He was lying – he was covering something, and he was going to tell me what it was.

"I wasn't born yesterday, Theodore," I said, slamming him against the wall again, a little harder this time. "I know you're lying. Now tell me the truth, or this is gonna get ugly."

He was a scrawny little man, and I was beyond angry. I would break him in half if I had to.

"Alright, alright!" He said eventually, more afraid of what I would do to him if he didn't talk than what Philippe would do if he did. "But you have to let me go."
"Fine," I said, releasing him demonstratively. "Talk."

"Philippe brought me here on a consult, to help find someone. A rogue vampire, one he had been trying to find for years..."

A humongous pit opened in the middle of my stomach. My worst fear was true. I didn't want to give it away, though, in case by some miracle, Theodore hadn't connected the dots yet.

"When did he contact you? What... what exactly did he tell you about the fugitive?"

"Philippe called me a little over a year ago – middle of September, as I recall. He said that he was tracking an escaped criminal, and that the Volturi had taken Demetri off the case to work on more important matters."

"So he wanted you to what – look for this criminal's aura?"

"Yes, that was the plan. Everything changed, though, when he showed me a sketch of the vampire in ques-"

"You backstabbing coward!" I shouted as I grabbed him and threw him against the wall again, ready to rip him to pieces. "You sold him out! You greedy son of a-"

"I didn't know..." He said, his face in shock. I wanted to rip his lying head right off, but I brought myself under control.

A little.

"The hell you didn't know."

"Honesty, Coraline... honesty. I thought you were indifferent to the whole matter."

He was telling the truth.
"What would ever make you think that?"

"Well, clearly you did not care enough for Grant to vouch for his innocence, yet you hid your connection with him, so you did not dislike him enough to give up information leading to his capture."

"Did it ever occur to you that I hid the information I had about him to protect him?"

"Still, you allowed him to become a fugitive in order to protect yourself. I did not think it would matter to you."
I wanted to punch my fist through his chest, but his words punched a hole through mine first.

Is it true? Did I cover my relationship to Grant to protect him, or myself? I assumed it wouldn't make a difference to plead, but I never tried...

I backed up from him again, pushing the sudden crisis of morality to the fringe of my mind.

"Keep talking," I said coldly. "Did you find him? What were you two talking about today?"

"When Philippe came to me, I told him the man he was looking for was Grant Willoughby. I remembered his color hue – so unique – I assumed it would be easy to locate him, but nothing could have been more difficult. I searched intermittently for six weeks, and found nothing. I told Philippe he was probably dead, but he would not accept that as an answer. So we came up with an alternate plan."

I suppressed a total melt-down when he said he thought Grant was dead, trying to keep my game face on.

"What kind of plan?"

"I remembered that Grant had a brother in England, one I had tracked down before. So we started making plans to use this brother to draw Grant out of hiding. In his searching, Philippe had run across a one-handed vampire named Lief that seemed to have been part of the Belgium incident-"

"He was. He tried to kill me – and Grant."
"Yes, so this 'Lief' recognized Grant, but could not help us find him. He did tell us, though, that he had lost his hand to Grant, and that he harbored a grudge against him. Philippe decided to try and make it look as if Lief was pursuing revenge on Grant by getting to his brother, so he ordered a hit on Grant's brother and his wife."

"Hit? What kind of hit? Those... those are innocent people -good people! How could you-"

"I did nothing. It was Philippe's decision. After learning the information from Lief, Philippe had him terminated – after all, he was still one of the primary instigators of the incident. Philippe hired a group of assassins to kill the brother and his wife publicly, in way that would draw a lot of attention, and hopefully cause Grant to come out of hiding. It was his hope that if and when Grant learned that his brother had been killed and dismembered, he would assume Lief was behind it and come after him, seeking revenge. I would be in the area waiting for him to appear. Once he came out of hiding, I was supposed to track him down so he could be eliminated. The brother and wife were unfortunate casualties..."
I thought I was going to be sick. Poor Harvey and Lucy! They didn't deserve to get mixed up in all this.

"Oh, my God... you killed them..."
"Not quite. Somehow, Grant intercepted the message, and got to his brother before the assassins did. Grant and another unknown associate killed one of the assassins, forcing them to regroup. The surviving assassin was able to kill the brother, but the wife survived. Fortunately, killing the brother allowed me enough time to arrive in the area, and I could start tracking him from a distance."

"Fortunately? There's nothing fortunate about that, you murderer! You killed an innocent man!"

"No one is innocent, Coraline. Besides, it was just a human. It is no different from the ones you kill every week to sustain yourself. It was a business matter, and it worked. I tracked Grant from a hundred miles away – he never had any clue he was being followed. I was able to trace his hue back to Cuba, and I started working very carefully to gather information about his hideout and associates there. It took a while, but I got the information I needed. I came here today to relay that to Philippe."

"And what exactly did you tell him today?"

"I only confirmed what we already suspected – that Grant was being hidden by a coven of assassins residing in Havana."

"I heard him say something about 'killing a fugitive' – what is he planning?"

"His plan is already in action. He's hired a larger assassin group to kill Grant and any associates that get in the way."

I started to hope a little bit. Maybe it wasn't too late.

"Where's Philippe?" I demanded, suddenly feeling the shortage of time. "I have to get him to stop..."

"Coraline, I am sorry... it is too late to stop it."

"What? What do you mean 'it's too late?'"

"The phone call has been made. The assassins have received their order. Things are in motion that cannot be undone."

"Well, I'll call them and tell them to stop."

"That is not possible. They are already on their way – they cannot be reached. It is going to happen, whether you try to stop it or not."
There was something 'off' about his reasoning as he casually dismissed any chance of saving Grant. Theodore didn't want me to stop the assassins. He wanted Grant to die. If that was the case, then he wanted to die. I was going to kill him.

"You want him to die!" I shouted, grabbing his neck and squeezing as hard as I could. "Why? Money? How much is he paying you?"

"Enough to make it worth losing a vampire I care nothing for."

"Well you can't spend money if you're dead. I'll kill you!"

"You... would be unwise to do so," he choked out, fighting against me unsuccessfully.

"Yeah? And why is that?"

"Caius is expecting me in twenty minutes. If I do not show up on time, he will start looking for me, which will lead him inevitably to this room. Tell me, is killing me worth giving your own life?"

He had a point. I didn't really want to kill him – I just wanted to save Grant.

"Fine," I growled as I released him. "You live for today. Now tell me how I can stop this."

"You are not going to try."

"Oh, yeah? Why not?"

"Because if you tell Philippe anything, or if this job fails, I will have no choice but to tell my friend Caius about your association with Grant. How do you think he will respond when he learns that you have been lying to the Volturi and helping a fugitive avoid capture for three years?"

"Is that a threat?"

"Absolutely. I have told no one of your connection with Grant, but I could easily do so. You will allow this hit to go uncontested, or I will tell everything I know."

"You bastard..."

"I am sorry, Coraline, it is nothing personal. This is business, and I am, after all, a businessman."

Something didn't add up. There was more than money involved, something he was hiding. I didn't have time to dig for it, though. If what he said was true, then I didn't have much time at all. I had to do something to save Grant – and fast. I didn't care if Theodore told on me. If I died saving Grant, that was a death I could handle. What I couldn't handle was living with the guilt that I could have saved him and didn't because I was too concerned with my own safety.

"You're right, Theo," I said, pulling my emotions under control so I could lie more effectively. "What's done is done. You keep my secret, and I'll stay out of the hit. It's too late, anyway."

"So you are not going to do anything to stop it?"

He was still a little skeptical.

"Grant was a good friend, but he's not worth dying for."

"Very well. Your secret will remain safe with me. Now, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment to get to..."

"Fine. Go."

He left my room quickly, heading for his meeting with Caius. He was being honest about his promise to keep the secret – he had no intention of saying anything about it again. To him, this was a business deal that was now closed.

Part of me wanted to wait for that meeting to be over so I could rip him apart and spit on his ashes, but there was no time for that. I had to find a way to stop the assassins – or at least to warn Grant about them. The only question was how. Being under house arrest made that sort of thing a little difficult.

I racked my brain for two or three minutes, and came up with a plan. It was hard, risky, and probably wouldn't work, but I had to try. I couldn't just let Grant die, not if there was any way to stop it.

I had to do something.

18. LOSE-LOSE

MY PLAN WAS STILL TAKING SHAPE AS I STARTED CLIMBING THE stairs, heading for the world above. I couldn't warn Grant myself – there was no time. I had no way to get to Cuba other than running, and I had a pretty good hunch these assassins, whoever they were, would have a plane. And then, for all I knew, they could be positioned right outside of Havana, just waiting for the word to attack. No, going there myself would take too long. Besides that, as soon as anyone realized I was gone, they would call Demetri, and he would track me down. I'd never even make it halfway.

There was no way to call, either. There weren't any phone lines available to the public down here, and even if there were, all phone traffic was monitored, which is why I had to find a pay phone to call Edgar before.

And then it hit me.

Edgar.

Edgar wouldn't be any more help to Grant than I would, but he was in contact with Wesley, and nobody else knew Wesley was even alive, so if I told Edgar, and Edgar told Wesley, then maybe he could warn Grant in time.

There were a lot of "if's," but it was all I had to work with. By the time I reached the commons, I had my plan. I would find a way to sneak out, make my way to Edgar, and tell him what I knew about the hit on Grant. I knew the consequences for me would be bad if I got caught, but I had to try – I owed Grant that much.

Fortunately for me, things were pretty slow and quiet in the underground city. The commons were practically empty, and no one paid any attention to me as I passed through and headed to the foyer.

That's where things got interesting.

Because all the entrances to the underground city were so secretive, security was pretty light once you got past the main foyer – just one vampire to get around, and I was topside.

The problem was getting through the foyer.

It was a large, open, well-lit room with absolutely nowhere to hide. It was also one of the few places where the route in and out bottle-necked. Anybody coming or going would have to pass through that room. At least, as far as I knew. There may have been other, limited-access routes in and out, but I had no idea where they were, so the foyer was my only play.

I would just have to hope that I caught it at a good time.

I slowed down and walked into the foyer at a normal pace, trying not to look suspicious. I was in luck – there was nobody in the room except the human receptionist, Pauline. I thought about sneaking past her, but I couldn't – I needed information from her.

I didn't know where to find Edgar.

I knew he would be at one of the twelve rotating posts that the Volturi used in the nearby cities, but I didn't know which one.

I kept playing back the last conversation I had with him in my mind, and nowhere in there did I ask him where he was going to be stationed. Pauline had the records, though, or, at least, she had access to them. I just needed to persuade her to get the information for me.

I walked in her direction, ready to pounce on her, but I heard someone coming down the elevator shaft, so I slowed up.

"Can I help you?" Pauline asked in her kind, professional tone.

"Um, no... I was just, uh..." I tried to stall, waiting to see who was coming through. "I was just waiting on somebody," I said finally, as an unfamiliar male vampire walked out of the elevator and gave me a nod.

"Okay," Pauline answered. "Who are you waiting for? Maybe I've seen them..."

"Uh... Philippe. Has he been through here?"

"Yes, I'm afraid you missed him. He passed by this way about fifteen minutes ago. Would you like me to try and contact him for you?"

The unknown vampire was almost out of the room. I just had to keep things going a little longer.

"No, um... that... won't be necessary."

"Alright, then. Sorry about that."

"That's okay," I said, listening for the door to shut behind me. As soon as it closed, I went right down to business. I jumped silently over Pauline's desk, putting one hand over her mouth and the other around her throat.

"Make one sound, and you're dead," I whispered, staring into her shocked eyes. "Understand?"

She nodded.

"There's a log that's kept with the locations of all twelve of the border guards. Where is it?"

I lifted my hand off of her mouth, confident she wouldn't scream. Her panicked eyes darted back and forth at a fever pitch as she fumbled for words.

"I...d-don't... I don't know-"

"Don't waste my time," I said deliberately. "Do you want to die, or not?"

"N-no... no."

"Then give me the log book."

"It's in the drawer," she said in a shaky voice, motioning to the desk drawer to her right.

I released her so she could reach it. Her hands were shaking so violently that she could hardly sort through the files in the drawer. It was taking too long, and she was making too much noise.

"Hurry up!" I hissed, eying both doors every few seconds. I could hear footsteps in the distance – some above me, others below. If anyone walked in while I was here, I was finished.

Eventually she retrieved the little book, handing it to me like it was a stick of live dynamite.

"I-is this it?"
"That's it. Now, turn around."

"Okay," she said, slowly turning away from me. As soon as I was behind her, I slapped her head, hard enough to knock her out, but not hard enough to kill her. At first, I thought I may have gone too far, but she was still breathing, so I kept moving. I consulted the log, and saw that Edgar (and Conwell) were stationed in Florence. I had no idea how to get there from Volterra – I would just have to figure it out on the way.

I hid Pauline's unconscious body under the desk and got into the elevator, taking it up to the next floor. The stupid box moved so slowly – it was like watching grass grow. In the winter.

I thought about trying to disable it once I got off, to give me a head-start on my escape, but it probably would have taken me longer to wreck it than it was worth. Besides, I needed to avoid drawing any attention to myself.

It was obvious they only really guarded against people sneaking in to the Volterra underground. There was just one vampire watching the old tunnels and sewers when I arrived, and he kept to a regular pattern, covering the large area systematically – a search pattern that fortunately didn't include the elevator area. After watching him for a minute, I found a soft spot in his route and made my move.

There was one main, larger tunnel leading in and out of the elevator area, and several connecting passageways branching out from there. The sentry never went down any of the side passages, but he did look down them, which would hopefully give me time to sneak through.

I waited until he was at the far end of the main tunnel, and snuck out, moving as quietly and quickly as possible into the nearest side tunnel. It was narrow – barely big enough to fit through, even for a small body like mine. The passageway led gradually upward for about three hundred yards, and then... nothing.

A dead end.

I pushed against the walls, hoping to find some kind of secret door like the exit I had used with Moses and Trent, but I found nothing. Frustrated, I sped back down the little path and came to the tunnel at the worst possible time. I could hear the guard's footsteps shuffling just outside the entrance to my side-tunnel.

He was about to look in my direction.

I darted back down the narrow walk-space, hitting the ground after fifty yards in the hopes that he might somehow look over me, but I knew that probably wouldn't happen. Vampire eyesight is too good for that.

I laid there silently as the footsteps came nearer, trying to gear myself up to attack a vampire who was nearly twice my size.

And then the footsteps passed.

He never even looked at the tunnel – it was a dead end.

Whew – dodged a bullet there. Now, to get out...

I waited for him to cycle through and head away from me again, and snuck across the main tunnel, entering another side-passageway a little further down. This time, the passage actually led somewhere. I traced it in a large, winding loop as it went upward, eventually leading me to an active city sewage basin.

After sloshing my way through a few narrow tunnels, I found a drain leading to the surface, and made my own exit, removing an iron grate from the stones surrounding it. I had made it through step one – I was topside again. Now I had to find out where in the world Florence was.

It was the middle of the night when I entered the town, so there were no stores open, no maps to find, and not many people walking through the streets. I would just have to improvise.

I had come above ground in a residential area of town, and just down the alley there was a flat with the light still on. In another circumstance, I may have been more subtle, but I didn't have time to be cute. I jumped up to the second story balcony and broke through the window, walking in on an older couple that was just getting ready to go to bed.

"How do I get to Florence from here?" I asked in my primitive Italian verbiage.

It took a while for the shocked couple to respond, but eventually they told me what I needed to know. Florence was about forty miles northeast of the city.

Of course.

Out of all twelve posts, Edgar just had to be at the furthest one.

Getting through town wasn't exactly an easy task. The vampire population in Volterra is the highest of any place on earth, and they all seemed to be out on the same night. I avoided everyone I could, and when there was no other way around, I just slowed down and walked by like there was nothing going on, hoping no one would recognize me and remember I wasn't allowed to be there.

The above-ground portion of the city was about as winding and maze-like as the underground, and it took me a little time to find my way out. Eventually, I made my way outside the city limits, and headed northeast across the countryside, using the stars to stay on course.

I ran across the rolling Tuscan hills as fast as my legs would take me, and in just a few minutes, I could see the city lights of Florence.

And I got discouraged.

Florence was a much bigger city than I expected, and I had no idea where to find Edgar in there. I couldn't exactly go door to door – Demetri and the gang would find me too quickly. There had to be a way to track him down...

I kept running toward the city as I thought about where to start looking, but I couldn't come up with anything. The city was too big, and my window of time was too small. I was going to fail.

What were you thinking, Coraline? I chided myself as I slowed up outside the city limits, trying to come up with a solution. They're gonna find you and kill you. And Grant. You're both going to die. Are you happy? Stupid! What did you think you were going to do, just walk up to the outpost out of pure luck? You're not even sure this is the right city. You should turn right around and go back. Maybe it's not too late to save yourself.

...

No, I can't do that.

I can't give up on him. I have to try. I have to...

The odds of me finding Edgar in the city were ridiculously low, but I was going to try anyway. Everything had worked out so far, and if there really was such a thing as fate or destiny, then something would have to work out.

I made up my mind on where to begin searching, and started to head toward the city, but before I took two steps, fate intervened.

"Coraline? What are you doing here?" A familiar voice came from a distance, giving me real hope for the first time all night.

It was Edgar.

"Edgar? Thank God, I was looking for you..."

He walked up to me over the rocky hillside, looking confused and concerned.

"I just got a call from Volterra – they said you escaped. What are doing?"

So much for my window of time.

"I had to get information to you – it's an emergency. Philippe found Grant; he hired assassins to go to Cuba and kill him. You have to tell Wesley – you have to warn him. I know it's asking a lot, but I'm desperate, and you're the only one I can trust. Please, you have to go now. Call Wesley. Hurry!"

Edgar's face turned cold and hard, as he exhaled slowly.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"For wha-"

Before I could finish my sentence, he threw his elbow into my face, knocking me out cold.

And everything went black for a long time.

When I regained consciousness, I was back underground in Volterra – at least that's where I seemed to be. I didn't know how long I had been out, but I had the feeling it was a long time. As soon as my eyes opened, I closed them again, laying there on the stone floor in defeat.

I had failed.

Philippe must have gotten to Edgar. Maybe he paid him off, or offered him a promotion, or maybe it was the same kind of deal as the one that he was giving to Theodore, whatever that was. It didn't really matter why, all that mattered was that it didn't work.

He turned me in. Grant was on his own.

I curled up in a ball on the floor as the truth of my failure set in. Not only was Grant all alone against a group of assassins, but I would probably die for trying to help him. Which, in a way, was for the best. I didn't really want to live with the guilt of letting Grant die. Why didn't you say something to Philippe earlier? I questioned myself as I laid there, stroking my neck, which was still sore (and probably healing from being broken or something). If you had just said something to Philippe privately, explained to him that Grant was your friend, that he was innocent... maybe it wouldn't have been different, but maybe it would have.

I laid in that room alone with my thoughts for an eternity – so long that I wanted to die, just to stop hurting. Eventually, though, I heard voices in the distance, and then footsteps, and then the doorknob began to turn.

I opened my eyes reluctantly to see who was coming into the room.

And then I shut them again.

It was Philippe.

"Get up," he said coldly, walking over to my body, which was still slumped on the ground.

I didn't move. He was trying to kill the only man I had ever loved. I didn't even want to give him the respect of looking at him.

"I said get up!" he shouted this time, grabbing my arm and yanking me up violently. I stood on my own, looking anywhere but at him. He kept shouting.

"You stupid, ungrateful whore!" he yelled as he slapped me in the face, catching me off guard and taking my breath away. Philippe had never been violent around me at all.

He was really mad.

"Do you have any idea how hard I had to work, just to save your pathetic life? Huh? I was on a plane halfway around the God damn globe, and I had to turn around and fly right back here. And why? Because you had to break out of here like an idiot. What were you thinking?"

I didn't answer him – I didn't have anything to say. I was done trying. I didn't really care what happened to me at that point.

Philippe grabbed my jaw tightly, jerking my head around to face his.

"Answer me! What were you thinking? What on earth would possess you to do this?"

"What do you want me to say, Philippe? I'm sorry?"

He slapped me again, harder this time. My face stung for quite a while.

"You should be. You should be sorry. Do you know how much trouble you've caused me? I had to practically beg on my hands and knees to keep Caius and Aro from ripping you to pieces. Lucky for you, I led them to believe this was all a misunderstanding. Otherwise, you'd be dead right now. You understand that? So I think I deserve the honor of an actual answer from you. Why did you try to run away?"
Wait – run away? He thought I was trying to run away? Maybe things weren't quite as bad as I thought.

"I was just... tired. Tired of being locked up in this dungeon. Tired of having no freedom. I couldn't take it anymore, so I ran."

"I'm told you asked for the locations of the border guards, and subsequently ran directly toward one of them. What kind of escape is that, huh? Are you careless, or are you just that stupid?"

"I thought I could get around the one in Florence, since it's a big city, and all. I didn't think word would get out that fast."
"Well, it did. Things like that tend to happen when you try to kill a human receptionist. Lucky for you, Edgar found you first. Felix would have just killed you. Coraline, do you have any idea how stupid that was? I put my name on the line for you. When you first came here, when you wanted to go above ground, when I arranged for the vacation last Christmas... all those favors were bought with my reputation. And now you're casting a bad light on it, on me and everything I've worked so hard to build."

"Of course this is all about you, Philippe," I said in a cutting tone. "It's always about you and your fragile reputation."

That set him off.

"It is about me, stupid wench," he roared, hitting me hard before grabbing my throat and shoving me against the wall. "I've been working for three hundred years to get to this point. I was born for greatness. And what are you? A stupid tramp who can't even keep herself alive. It is about me, and you'd do well to remember that."

He released me, and I slumped to the ground. I didn't care enough to fight back. It didn't matter. Grant was doomed. I was going to die sooner or later.

"Why did you even save me, then – if I'm such a useless nobody?"

"I should think that would have been quite obvious by now."

Everything went quiet for a while as his words echoed in the stone room. I didn't care much about living at the moment, but something in the back of my mind told me not to give up yet. After all, Grant may be on his own, but he was still alive. There was always the chance that he would escape. I had to hold on to some hope – it was all I had left.

"What's the cover story?" I finally asked, still staring blankly at the wall.

"What?"

"The official story – the one you told to the Volturi. I need to know what the lie is if I'm going to play along with it. What did you tell them?"

"They don't look favorably on escape attempts, so I told them you had been misinformed and were trying to get information to me."

"What sort of information?"

"It doesn't matter, Coraline."

"Yes it does," I said, finally looking at him. "Do you want me to keep up appearances or not?"

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes.

"You know the fugitive I've been tracking for the last three years – the one from the Belgium incident? Well, I finally found him. There are three assassins on their way to kill him right now. I was just on my way to Zurich to sign over the payment for their services when you pulled your little stunt. Now, thanks to you, they'll be several hours delayed. I told the Volturi that you had been thinking through things after I left, and you realized we needed to adjust our attack plan. In your desperation to get word to me before it was too late, you made some foolish choices, things that might look to an outsider like an escape attempt."

"Seriously? That's a horrible story. They believed that?"

"How many times must I remind you – I can persuade them to believe most anything I want them to."

"Okay... well, I'll try to stick to the story."

"You'll do more than try," he said sharply. "I have a lot riding on this operation. There is a significant position opening up in Volterra, one with the potential for enormous power and responsibility. Caius and Marcus feel I would be the man best suited for the job, and they would likely support my promotion on the condition that I take care of this stupid matter with the fugitive. If, however, the operation is unsuccessful, if you're idiocy has caused me to lose track of the fugitive again, then the job will be given to another. And more than that, there will be investigations into the handling of the operation.

The only reason the Volturi accepted my story so readily was that I assured them repeatedly that this matter would be resolved soon. If they begin to inspect the chain of events that led to the operation's failure, even I won't be able to cover up the causes. They will learn that I lied to and misled them, and that you tried to escape. I can tell you most assuredly that they will kill you. As for my own fate, even if I escape execution, I will miss my one opportunity at grasping the power that is rightfully mine. All my life has built up to this moment – this position. This is my life's work. But of course, someone as foolhardy and simple as you wouldn't understand that kind of ambition."

He walked over to me, standing over me and speaking with icy cruelty.

"You will keep this cover. You will play your role, you will perform your duties, and you will not interfere with the success of this operation."

I sat there silently.

"I don't have any more time for this conversation. I have a plane standing by for me, and this time, I'm flying all the way to Zurich. You're staying here. Indefinitely. Clean yourself up – you look pathetic."

He turned and walked toward the door, pausing just before he walked out.

"You'd better pray to God we kill this fugitive, because if we don't, we're as good as dead."

He shut the door behind him a little harder than necessary, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.

Hearing him talk gave me hope – the assassins probably hadn't left yet, since they hadn't been paid. If, by some miracle, Grant was mobile, there was a chance he could escape them and go back into hiding. He could still survive all this. Of course, if that happened, I wouldn't survive all this, which put me in an impossible situation.

Either Grant was going to die, or I was.

There was no way around it. For one of us, this was the end of the road.

Let it be me.

Please, God, let it be me.

19. HOUSEGUEST

- - - DANNY WATSON - - -

BY THE TIME THE END OF NOVEMBER ROLLED AROUND, I WAS really ready for some alone time. Hawkins and Persephone called early one morning, telling me they were taking a vacation – just the two of them – which meant the rest of the team got to take the week off. Emilio was spending the day in his apartment, as usual. Harvey and Lucy had rented a boat the previous night, and were spending a day out on the ocean, enjoying a little time away from temptations and cover stories. It was the perfect day to get a few hours to myself, and it couldn't have come at a better time.

Ever since my incident with the woman in the parking garage, I had been preoccupied with thoughts of failing – and of leaving. The problem was that my busy life in Havana never afforded me time to adequately process the themes running around in my head, so I never had a chance to get beyond 'preoccupied.' The only way to make any progress was to carve out some time to get alone and think.

It was cloudy outside that morning, cloudy enough to risk a walk on the beach. I left my little house around 9am, taking a stroll along the somewhat rocky coastline and thinking about the direction my life was taking. Everything in me was urging me to leave Havana, to find a better environment to live in, but I didn't know where to go. I had tried contacting Jasper to see if Harvey, Lucy and I could some stay with him and his friends, but I wasn't sure that would have been the right fit, either. They were nomads, moving from town to town to avoid suspicion when they killed locals. I was trying to get away from killing, and at least in Havana, I had a good system in place with the morgue. Havana had plentiful benefits – leaving wouldn't be easy.

These thoughts dominated my time on the beach until about noon, when the sun started threatening to peek through the clouds. I wasn't ready to go back inside yet, so I took a swim, enjoying the cool, brisk Caribbean water for a while. Eventually, I came to a little atoll, about seventy-five miles off the coast. The sandy patch of land was less than a thousand square feet, and there was nothing else in sight but water. It was the perfect location.

I sat on the beach there for hours, processing, reflecting, and appreciating my surroundings. The feel of the warm sun on my face and the steady ocean breeze did wonders for my stress level, and for the first time in a while, I could really think straight.

By 5pm, the clouds had returned, and I was ready to go home. I jumped back into the water, carrying with me two conclusions gained from a day of deep thinking.

First, leaving Havana was a priority, even if it meant starting over someplace totally new. I decided the best route would be to take Harvey, Lucy, and hopefully Emilio, and start a new life somewhere far away. There were apparently some adequately cloudy regions of New Zealand that might work as a new home. I was also considering the North American Rockies and some regions of the upper Andes mountains as possible habitats.

I had enough money stashed away to live for a very long time without having to worry about finding work, and my mastery of languages (and even accents, to a lesser extent) would make it easy to blend in. The key was Emilio – I had to convince him to go with us, which wouldn't be too hard, in my estimation. I hadn't talked to him much about the subject, but I had a strong feeling he disliked the unsavory parts of the Havana life as much as I did. I just had to convince him to leave Hawkins.

The second revelation I came away from my little island with was that no matter how hard I tried, I could never fully be 'over' Coraline. It had been almost four full years since I had seen her, and still, whenever I was alone, she weighed heavily on my thoughts. As much as it pained me to do so, I kept thinking about her, wondering how her life had turned out, wondering what might have been, had the circumstances been different. It was a rather pathetic notion, but I honestly expected that I would never be able to love someone again – at least not to the extent that I loved Coraline.

I got back to the coast just as the sun was beginning to set in the west, and headed back to my house to change into some dry clothing. As soon as I stepped out of the water, I knew something was off. There was a strange smell in the air – nothing human, nothing natural. It almost smelled like... a vampire. A few steps closer, and I was certain – it was a vampire I was smelling – not Harvey or Lucy... someone else. I walked a little closer to the house, and froze, as shivers ran down my spine like icy lightening.

The back door to my house was open – broken. The wind gently blew the upstairs screen door open and shut, as random papers fluttered across the sandy yard below. I had seen this picture before; this type of scene was all too familiar to someone in the assassin business.

Someone was looking for me.

I immediately hit the ground, working to cover my scent and searching for a viable hiding place. There wasn't much between my house and the coast – mostly rocks and sand. There were a few large rocks right on the waterfront, though, so I slowly crawled backward until I reached them. The rocks were a little help, but they wouldn't fully hide me if someone knew where to look. I needed to keep moving.

I peeked out from my hiding place, looking for any other signs of my unwanted visitor. Harvey's house looked to be untouched, there were no vehicles in the area, and from what I could tell, there were no fresh footprints in the sand near the coast. For a moment, I considered escaping to sea, but the threat to Harvey and Lucy would be too great. They would be returning here soon enough, and I didn't want to risk any harm coming to them. Whoever it was, they were after me. This was my responsibility.

I needed to face it head on.

With the utmost care, I slid out from behind the rocks that hid me, stalking along the shore for a few yards until I reached a patchy tree-line on the edge of my property. From there, I moved inland, darting from tree to tree, all while keeping my eyes on the house. It was empty, for all I knew, but if there was someone in there, I didn't want to be taken off-guard.

An unpleasant scenario came to my mind as I approached the house. What if it's Lief? What if he's finally found me, and has come here looking for a fight? I wasn't really worried about facing him one-on-one. I had fared pretty well against him the first time, and now, I had the advantage of four years of combat training. It was Harvey and Lucy that concerned me. Lief had tried to get to me through them before – he could easily do it again.

I wasn't about to let that happen.

Once the house was within 200 yards, I bolted out from the trees, coming to the building from the side and sliding around to the back door, still operating as covertly as possible. The smell was much stronger once I approached – the intruder was still inside. I listened carefully for any sign of his (or her) movements, and finally heard something – a gentle rustling of papers, emanating from my bedroom, which was upstairs.

I waited for the wind to blow the screen door open, and quickly snuck through the doorway, slipping into the living room and pressing against the wall. The sounds were still coming from upstairs – I had snuck in unnoticed. Part of me wanted to go charging up those stairs and kick the bedroom door down, but I knew better than that. The last time I let my emotions get the better of me in a fight, it almost got me killed (along with Harvey and Lucy). The intruder had to come down eventually, through the staircase or off the upstairs patio.

Either way, I would be waiting for him.

Before twenty seconds had passed, the rustling stopped, and I heard the timbers in the ceiling groan ever so slightly under the shifting weight as my attacker started to move for the stairs. I crept over to the bottom of the staircase, setting up an ambush. My scent was totally undetectable. My movements were silent.

They would never see me coming.

I crouched slightly as I heard the intruder start to move down the stairs, ready to strike. The sound came lower, lower... it was time. As soon as the intruder came to the bottom of the stairs, I attacked, getting both my hands around his neck, ready for the easy kill. He was more skilled than I expected, and even caught off-guard, he was able to get his hands on mine, fighting me off. Everything was a blurred scramble for a second and a half before the unidentified vampire shifted his weight and threw me off. I rotated in mid-air and landed on my feet, setting my body in an attack position just like that of my opponent.

And then I saw his face.

"Wesley?"
My mind was spinning off its axis – I recognized him, but it took me a second to process what my eyes were telling me.
Wesley Pemberton was here. In Cuba. In my house.

"Crikey, Grant!" He said in that familiar accent, "you scared me half to death."

"What... what are you doing here?" I asked, still trying to process what was going on.

"I'm here to help you – but we can't talk here. We need to get out of this house. Now."

I took his word for it, and we left the house quickly, going back down to the coast and taking cover once again among the rocks. As soon as we were hidden, I continued my questioning.

"Wesley, what's going on? Why are you here?"

"I'm here to warn you – your life is in danger. There are three assassins on their way here right now to kill you. I'm actually surprised I found you first."

Three assassins... so maybe it's not Lief, after all...

"Why? What is this about?"

The South Africans, maybe? But then, I thought Jasper said they couldn't trace us back here...

"It's about Belgium. You remember how the Volturi have been looking for you all this time? Well, somehow they found you. You need to get far away from here."

The Volturi... I had forgotten they were after me in the first place.

"The Volturi are onto me? Why... why are they sending assassins, then?"

"It's Philippe's doing. He must have had some reason he wanted to keep from getting his hands dirty. I dunno, Grant. All I know for sure is that they're coming for you, and if you don't get out of here soon, you're dead."

"How much time do you think we've got?" I asked, thinking of Harvey and Lucy. I couldn't just leave town without them.

"Who knows? Hours? Minutes? They could be here any moment. The only reason I beat them to Cuba was because I was in Louisiana when I got the phone call. C'mon, let's get out of here. I know a place we can lie low in New Zealand. It's a bit of a swim, though..."

"We can't leave yet. Harvey and Lucy are still out on a boat."

"Who are they?"

I forgot, Wesley didn't know about them yet.

"My brother... and sister-in-law."

"The one from the army? No, we can't have a human slowing us down-"

"He's not a human. Not anymore – they're both vampires. They rented a boat... they've been out at sea all day. That other house, there... that's their house. They're gonna come back here when they dock the boat. We need to grab them first, then we can leave."

"I don't think you're getting my point, Grant. We need to leave now. If we just sit around the house and wait for them to show up, we may not be alive when they get here."

"I'm not planning on waiting here. I've been in this situation before – for all we know, they could be watching the house now, just waiting to ambush us. I agree, we need to get away from here."

"Okay, so..."
"Harvey and Lucy are on a boat that they rented in Havana, so we'll wait for them just outside the harbor – in the water. We'll intercept them before they come within sight of the coast."

Wesley thought about it for a moment and let out a subtle sigh.

"I'd still feel better if we were three hundred miles from here right now."

"Yeah, and I'd feel better if I knew my brother and his wife were safe. I'm not leaving without them."

"Alright, then. Let's go wait for 'em."

Wes and I swam out to the deeper water off the coast, staying near the surface so we wouldn't miss anything. The harbor in Havana was relatively large, but it had a very narrow opening, which made it easy for us to monitor the ships coming in and out. The two of us floated there for nearly six hours, growing more nervous by the minute. Whatever head start we may have had, it was gone – or at least, severely diminished.

We finally spotted Harvey and Lucy's boat around 11pm, and were able to get their attention. As soon as we were on board, we got right to business.

"Harvey, Lucy, this is my friend, Wesley. You probably remember me telling you about him – he was part of my coven in Belgium..."

They nodded their heads, confused and a little concerned. I continued.

"Alright, listen – I want you to stay calm-"

"What? What's wrong?" Lucy asked, suddenly worried.

"We're all in danger. There are assassins on their way to the city right now. They're looking for me, but they'll be a danger to anyone around me. We need to leave Havana right away."
"The South Africans?" Harvey interjected, instantly angry. "I thought they couldn't trace us here..."

"They didn't," I answered. "It's the Volturi – somehow, they found out I was here, and they hired these people to kill me. I don't know if it's the same group that we fought last year or not. All I know is that we need to leave as quickly as possible."

Lucy was visible shaken – this was all too familiar to her. Her sensitive nature didn't fare too well with conflict like this. Harvey, on the other hand... he was ready to fight.

"How many are there? We've got two newborns and a couple of trained fighters. We'll kill 'em before they get to you."

I had to talk some sense into him.

"We don't know how many, Harv, but I'm sure they brought plenty of help. Besides that, they may have special abilities on their side. I won't risk anyone getting hurt. We need to escape."

"How long are we going to keep running, Grant?" He answered, not swayed by my reasoning. He was still so headstrong, just like my father. "We have to stand up and fight, show them we can't be messed with."

"What about Lucy?" I countered, appealing to his softer side. "Do you want to put her in harm's way? She may be strong, but she's not a killer. The people after us, they're trained, too. Who do you think would win between her and a battle-tested soldier?"

"I won't let it get to that."

"You may not have a choice. Running is the right option – at least for now."
"Listen to him, Harvey," Lucy pleaded, entering the conversation. "He's right – I can't fight these people. I don't want to fight them. We can leave right now and all be safe, and together somewhere. Isn't that enough?"

He mulled it over for a moment, and eventually took Lucy's side.

"Alright," he said reluctantly. "What's your plan?"

"Wesley has a contact in New Zealand, way off the beaten path. He's agreed to let us lie low for a while there until we figure out what to do next. Hawkins and Persephone took the big plane, but we still have the smaller one at the airstrip. We'll take it to Peru, meet up with Alejandro there, and trade it for a longer range craft. With a fueling stop in Polynesia, we should be able to reach New Zealand within twenty-four hours."

"And what if they follow us there?" He asked, still a little skeptical of the 'running' strategy.

"It'll at least buy us some more time. We'll figure something out when we get there."

"What about Hawkins and Persephone... and Emilio?" Lucy asked. "He'll be all alone here. Can't we just go into town and get him?"

"There's no time," Wesley said, stepping into the conversation. "Besides, the assassins are only really after Grant. Once we're safely in New Zealand, we'll call them and explain everything. Listen, I don't wanna be rude, but we're out of time for questions. We need to get that plane in the air now."

He turned to me as they got their things together and anchored the boat.

"How long until you can have that plane ready?"

"We can be airborne in fifteen minutes."

"I'd feel better if it were five."

"So would I, but fifteen's the best I can do."

"Let's hope it's enough, then."

We ditched the boat and swam along the coast to the airfield, taking every precaution to be sure nobody saw us. There was not a soul in sight when we came back onto land – it looked like we were going to get out of town in time, after all.

Wesley kept a lookout for any unwelcome guests while Harvey and Lucy helped me fuel up the plane. We were almost finished when Lucy made one more appeal to help our friend.

"Are you sure we can't go back and get Emilio before we go?"
"Lucy, there's just no time," I said, trying not to sound annoyed. "We have to leave as soon as possible, and it's too dangerous for us to go into town – that's the first place the assassins will look. Besides, what makes you think he'd want to come with us, anyway?"

"Because he's not like Hawkins – he's like us. He doesn't want to live here any more than we do. If we leave, do you think he'll keep drinking cold blood? He's a good person, and we're the only support he has right now. If we leave..."
"We don't have to stay away forever," I countered, taking a break from my work to look her in the eyes. "I want Emilio to succeed, too. I want him to come join us at some point, and I think that can happen, but not right now. Right now, all I care about is getting you and Harvey out of here alive and unharmed."

"Yeah, okay. But we'll come back for him, right?"

"If there's any way possible. I promise."

The gas tank filled up after what felt like an eternity, and I closed it up, running a double-check of all the vital systems of the plane before stepping on board to fire up the engines.

The moment I opened the side door, I smelled something.

Something that didn't belong in a plane.

I walked inside slowly, trying to make sense of the jumble of scents.

Dioctyl sebacate... polyisobutylene... and is that... RDX? What in the bloody hell is a rubber and a nitrogen compound doing in the... plane... Oh God – Explosive 808!

As soon as my mind put the pieces together, I bolted for the door, yelling at Lucy to run, and tackling Harvey, who was just stepping inside. Before our bodies hit the ground, the plane exploded into a ball of flames, as pieces of the metal structure went flying in every direction.

We hadn't moved fast enough.

The assassins were already here.

20. AMBUSH

FLAMING SHARDS OF METAL AND FABRIC WERE RAINING DOWN all around us as Harvey and I tried to regain our wits. I was mildly aware of Lucy's frightened scream and Wesley's voice shouting directions, but for the most part, everything in my consciousness was spinning like a child who's had one too many rides on the merry-go-round.

After a moment of soupy dizziness, I felt a hand grasp my arm tightly, partially shaking me from my stupor.

"Get up, Grant! Get up. Hurry!" Harvey's voice was urgent as I stood to my feet. Only then did I realize that one of my legs was missing from the middle of the thigh down.

Not the ideal way to begin a fight with trained assassins.

"C'mon, I'll help you. We can put your leg back on later," my brother continued, lifting me up and half-carrying me toward the nearby hangar, which was also on fire.

Somewhere along the way, I began to notice the indescribably intense pain emanating from my right thigh, which, for the moment, was only a stub. I tried to ignore the pain, focusing on how to salvage our botched escape plan, but I soon realized it was too late for that. We were going to have to fight.

Ahead of us, Wesley and Lucy had just entered the hangar, when two attackers appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. The first one I recognized – Zane, the more accomplished of the two assassins that had attacked Harvey and Lucy. The other was a woman – Indian or Pakistani in ethnicity, and not over 5' tall. The two assassins stood in between us and the hangar, ready to fight.

"Here, put this back on," Harvey said, handing me my missing leg. "I've got some heads to take off."

He made eye contact with Wesley, who was in the hangar, and took off running toward our opponents. As soon as he began moving, Zane whispered to the short woman, and Harvey stopped dead in his tracks, falling backwards to the ground as if he had run into an invisible wall.

Great. He brought a weapon with him.

The woman stood still, staring intently at Harvey while Zane slowly approached the hangar. Meanwhile, I struggled to get my leg to reattach itself enough for me to assist my brother.

"There's no need for you to die here, Wesley," Zane said, coming to a stop forty yards from the hangar.

Apparently they knew each other.

"Come out slowly, so I can see you, and I'll let you go," he continued. "That goes for you, too, miss. We're here for Mr. Willoughby. We have no quarrel with the rest of you."

"If you're here for him, then you have a quarrel with all of us, mate," Wesley responded from behind the hangar door. "You're outnumbered. I think you're the one who needs to leave here while you can."

"No, Wesley, the odds are in my favor. Come out and see for yourself."

Harvey was trying to move closer, but he was stuck in place.

Something very weird was going on.

Zane's attempt at diplomacy gave my leg enough time to reattach, and I hobbled over to try and help Harvey out of his predicament, which turned out to be a bad idea. Once I got to within four feet of him, I, too, hit a barrier. It was like there was an impenetrable wall around him, something cold and hard... and invisible. After struggling against it for a moment, I finally broke through. And then I realized I had been let in. Whatever this mysterious new woman was doing, it seemed to have the effect of caging Harvey and me in.

"My friend, Rahbya, is a very talented young lady," Zane continued. "She's keeping your companions on ice until I'm ready to deal with them. So, you see, it's just you and the girl against me, which is really like the girl against me. Trust me, I'd rather not kill either of you. Leave now, and save us all some trouble."

Wesley stepped out the door, followed by Lucy. "We'll see how well your little magician works without a head on her shoulders," he replied coldly.

There was a brief period of intense waiting, and then Wesley charged forward, with Lucy close behind. Zane easily brushed Wesley aside, tossing him back toward the hangar, and focused his attention on Lucy. Though she still had a great deal of newborn strength, she wasn't much of a technical fighter, and he quickly had her by the leg, whirling her around and sending her crashing through the hangar wall.

"We've gotta get out of here, Grant. He's gonna kill her," Harvey said in desperation. The two of us pushed with all our might, but the barrier around us was immovable.

"She'd got some sort of mental block on us," he continued as we pushed together. "There's not really anything here... it's just that our minds somehow think there is. Maybe you can slow her brain down, or something."

I reached out with my ability, but it, too, seemed to be confined to my invisible cage. We were rendered useless, spectators of a deadly battle. Since I could do nothing else productive with my time, I turned my perceptive abilities to repairing my leg. If and when Harvey and I got out of our confinement, I was going to need every ounce of functionality I could get. These guys were good.

Wesley and Lucy regrouped, coming at Zane together this time, and the three bodies were quickly tangled into a thunderous blur of arms and legs. After two or three seconds of indiscernible fighting, there was a loud crack followed by a shout of pain, and Wesley went flying backwards again. Lucy remained in the fight, though, and managed to land a kick to Zane's chest that surely must have broken a few ribs. He took several steps back, seeming to be vulnerable for a moment, and Lucy took advantage, jumping over him and running straight toward Rahbya, the woman who was holding us captive. Before she could get within twenty yards, she, too hit a wall, as the one around Harvey and me let up momentarily. We surged forward, but were quickly restrained again once Zane caught up to Lucy, throwing her away again.

"Move them inside," Zane ordered his sidekick, obviously frustrated. He was not as invincible as he thought he was.

Suddenly, the barrier began moving, and regardless of our efforts against it, Harvey and I were pushed toward the hangar, eventually ending up inside. Harvey diverted his attention back to Lucy, who was trying with all her might to fight Zane, finding mixed success, while Wesley was completely thwarted.

"What's wrong with Wesley?" I asked aloud, mostly to myself as he was repelled yet again. "He's a better fighter than that."

"He's got an ability, too," Harvey replied, speaking of Zane. "It's like he knows every move Wesley's going to make before he makes it. And now, he's starting to get that way with Lucy. I think he gets better the more he fights them, or something. Like he's learning them. We've got to get out there and help them."

Rahbya pushed us all the way inside the hangar, and for a moment, we could only hear what was going on. Hearing was far worse than watching – all we could do was listen to the fight and imagine what each booming thunderclap meant as limbs crashed against each other.

After twenty seconds or so, there was another crushing, tearing sound, followed by a brief yelp of pain. It didn't sound like Lucy or Wesley. A moment after the sound, Lucy came rushing into the building, heading straight for Rahbya. This time, she came within ten feet before she was struck in the back by a flying arm. A one-armed Zane came running after her, tackling her with his one good arm and pulling her away from Rahbya. Their tussle continued for a moment, with Wesley entering just after them. Rahbya moved over next to us, probably trying to envelop herself in the force field that held us, so Wesley went to help Lucy.

With only one arm, Zane was outmatched – it looked like we finally had the upper hand.

And then the tables turned again.

Just as the two of them got a good hold on Zane, a new voice came ringing through the metal building, accompanied by three shadows in the flickering light of the fire all around.

"Drop him, or your friend dies," The male voice commanded.

I turned to the hangar door to see what was going on, and my heart sank. There, stepping into the building with us, were two more assassins with their prisoner.

Emilio.

The poor boy looked terrified, struggling uselessly against the large man and medium-sized woman that held his arms behind him.

Wesley and Lucy paused for a moment, still holding Zane.

"Fine. Kill him," Wesley said flatly. "I don't know the bloke. Either way, your partner, here, dies."

"Alright," the tall male assassin said, placing his hands around Emilio's head.

My stomach turned. Emilio had been caught up in my problem.

"Wait!" Lucy shouted desperately. "Don't hurt him! He has nothing to do with this."

"Oh, but he does, sweetheart," the large man said. "At least, he does now. Let Zane go, and your friend here may live through the day."

I didn't like it, but Lucy was right. I wouldn't let Emilio suffer on my behalf.

"Let him go, Wesley," I shouted.

"No. I can't," He replied, tightening his grip on Zane. "Zane's their best fighter. Without him, the rest will fall."

"Okay, it's your loss," the tall man said, pulling on Emilio's head until charcoal-grey fissures began to arc across his face.

I couldn't watch it and do nothing.

"Wesley! For God's sake – let him go! This man is innocent," I pleaded, making eye contact with him to drive my point home.

Wesley let out a growling shout of frustration as he released Zane, backing away slowly with Lucy. As soon as they were three yards away, Zane popped up, grabbing Lucy and tossing her toward Harvey and me. Wesley tried to strike back at him, but even with one arm, Zane was able to block every attack he tried, and eventually, Wesley, too, came flying in my direction.

"Put all four of them in the bubble," the tall man said to Rahbya, stepping further inside with the unnamed woman and Emilio.

"Wait – not all four," Rahbya replied in a thick Indian accent. "I don't think I-"

"Just do it!" the man barked.

I felt the walls of my invisible cage move, and suddenly, all four of us were trapped inside.

"Bloody fantastic," Harvey said coldly. "What now?"

Zane walked over and retrieved his arm as the tall newcomer continued to speak.

"As I'm sure Zane already explained to you, we're only here for Willoughby. Surrender yourself now, and we'll consider letting the rest of you live."

"Go to hell," Harvey said defiantly, turning to me. "Don't do it, Grant. They'll try to kill us either way. Our best chance is to stick together."

"I don't think you're taking me seriously," the tall man said, narrowing his eyes and putting his hands back around Emilio's neck. Once again, he began to pull, as Emilio writhed in his grasp.

Apparently, Zane wasn't completely on board with the new game plan.

"Calvin! What are you doing?"

"Showing them I mean business."

"Just toss him in with the others..."

"No. I want their little ring leader to see what happens when he doesn't comply."

I watched in agony as Calvin, the leader of the assassins, pulled Emilio's head harder and harder, until finally, with one resounding crash, he ripped it off. Emilio's body fell lifelessly to the ground as Lucy cried out in anguish and Harvey pushed against the barrier, shouting profanities. I fell to my knees, as if the wind had been knocked out of me, as Calvin walked forward, holding Emilio's head in his hands.

"This will be the rest of your friends, Willoughby," he said coldly. And then he tossed the head into the flames.

It was one of those moments where your subconscious mind hopes desperately that you were somehow dreaming, because what you were seeing was too horrifying to be real. Emilio, my friend, my peace-loving, cold-blood pupil... of all the members of my Havana coven, he probably deserved this fate the least.

I knelt there in silence, unable to move or speak from the shock, as the assassins casually tossed the rest of Emilio's body into the growing flames in the corner of the hangar. Calvin's warning echoed in my head. He really did mean business – if I refused to give myself up, that could be Wesley next... or Harvey or Lucy. I couldn't allow that to happen. I was already responsible for the death of one friend – there was no need for anyone else to suffer.

"I'll do it," I said gravely, still on my knees.

Harvey didn't like the idea.

"What? No! No, you're not doing anything for them," He said with determination as he pulled me to my feet, getting in my face as he continued his pep talk.

"We are gonna rip every one of these scum bags apart, and then we're gonna find the guy that sent them, and we're gonna rip him apart. You're not giving yourself up."

The assassins outside waited impatiently and Harvey and I discussed our options.

"We can't fight them, Harv. Not while we're trapped like this. If I give myself up, the rest of you will be able to get away and start a new life. Isn't that what you want for Lucy?"
"What I want is for my brother to keep his head in the game. Don't you get it? They'll kill us anyway, or at least, they'll try. Once you're gone, they have the advantage. They're lying. It's stupid – don't give them the easy way out. We're gonna fight them."

I wanted to go along with his plan, but I couldn't. The guilt of Emilio's death weighed heavily upon me, as did the potential for anyone else's. I was the responsible one here, I had to make the responsible choice.

"Sorry, Harvey," I said, grasping his shoulder firmly, before turning to address Calvin. "I'll give myself up. Let the others go, and you can do what you want to me."

"Grant, no..." Harvey pleaded, accompanied by Lucy and Wesley. It was an unpopular decision, but it had to be made.

Calvin walked forward, whispering something into Rahbya's ear. She turned back to him to reply, her face looking even more concerned. Whatever he said back to her must have been convincing – she looked back our way, eyes uncertain but jaw set.

"Step forward," Calvin instructed me.

I took one last look at my family and friends.

"I love you all. Never forget that."

Before they could respond, I stepped forward, experiencing a sensation like walking through a cold, elastic band as I was released from the containment. Calvin smiled, moving forward slowly.

"Take it easy – no tricks," he instructed, passing by Rahbya as the other two waited in the far corner near the fire. "Walk toward me slowly, and get on your knees."

I began to take my final steps in his direction, walking slowly like a man to a firing squad. I really didn't want this to be the end of the road – I finally had something to live for again. Harvey and Lucy needed my direction and guidance, and I needed their friendship.

I didn't want to die like this.

I scanned the faces of the four assassins waiting to destroy me, hoping for any outside hope that I could try some sort of escape. Calvin still wore a menacing, arrogant grin, knowing he had defeated me. Zane was preoccupied with his injured arm, which looked like it was still much further from being healed than my leg, which was nearly 100% healthy again. The unnamed woman in the background was watching casually, no doubt ready to get things over with and return home. Rahbya, though... she gave me an idea.

She was looking more and more concerned as I took each step forward. The mental strain of holding up the barrier was evident in her face. I could hear Harvey grunting behind me as he pushed against the walls of her bubble, and all of a sudden, I got my escape plan. I knew she was being asked to go beyond what her ability would normally be able to do, and it was obvious that Harvey's resistance was weakening her further. While I was inside the cage, I couldn't do anything to stop her, because I couldn't reach outside of it with my ability.

I wasn't inside the cage anymore.

I peered inside her head as I took two more deliberate steps, looking for the best place to strike. All the action was happening in her frontal cortex, which was operating at capacity already. Just a little inhibition would be enough to disrupt her hold. I reached into her brain with my power, and slowed things down for just a split-second.

A split-second was all it took.

Harvey released a deafening battle cry as he tore through the wall behind me, racing around me and colliding with Calvin before he had a chance to react.

It was on. We were fighting.

I rushed forward, trying to hold off Zane and the other woman, as Harvey contended with Calvin. By the time I got to them, they were ready for me, though Zane was still working with only one good arm. I tackled the woman, carrying her into the fire with me, and jumped back out just before Zane arrived to help. I glanced back at Harvey for a moment, ready to help, but he had things well in hand. His newborn strength was a fearsome thing to behold, and combined with his rage over Emilio's death and the element of surprise, Calvin never had a chance. I watched as Harvey picked him up, snapping his backbone like it was a twig, and ripping his head from his body with ease.

One down. Three to go.

I watched for a little too long, and was hit from behind by the woman, who took a chunk out of my shoulder with her teeth as she carried me to the ground. Zane was right behind her.

"Harvey!" I shouted, drawing his attention from his already-fallen opponent, as I grappled with two vampires.

He was there in a flash, grabbing the woman and throwing her off of me, and through the hangar wall. Doing so exposed his midsection, though, and Zane landed a kick to his sternum, sending him reeling. I jumped off the ground with a shout and tackled him, again rolling into the fire, which began to burn both our bodies slightly.

Harvey raced outside to fight the other woman, as I matched up with Zane. I wanted to get over to Rahbya and disrupt her long enough to free Wesley and Lucy, but Zane was keeping me too far out of range. He grabbed my leg and swung me around, sending me through one of the structural beams in the hangar's wall. The ceiling groaned under the shifting weight, threatening to fall on us at any moment. He tried to run outside to help his partner, but I reached out with my ability, numbing his legs for a moment to trip him up. I was on him in two seconds, unleashing a flurry of kicks and punches, most of which he blocked. Eventually, I got one through, which stunned him enough for me to throw him in Rahbya's direction. I chased after him, but before I could grab him, he caught my wrist, twisting it violently and breaking it. I dodged a head-butt and tried to give him a knee to the chest, but he blocked that, too, rebounding with a punch to the ribs, which knocked me back to the ground. Harvey was right – with every moment I fought against Zane, he got better at blocking, and even anticipating my attacks.

Even with my ability, he was too strong for me to beat by myself. I needed help.

I rebounded from his last punch, numbing his arms as I moved in for a choke-hold on his neck. Even that he dodged, sidestepping my attack and kicking my hip as I missed him, which again took me to the ground. I was able to roll over and catch his foot, bringing him to the ground next to me, but he was ready for my next move, getting his knee in the way of my fist, and landing a head-butt, which blurred my vision momentarily.

I could hear Harvey and the woman battling it out on the other side of the hangar wall – she must have been a pretty experienced fighter. He defeated Calvin because he caught him off-guard, not because he was invincible. Even with his strength, I remembered besting my brother in combat just a few weeks earlier. The longer that fight went on outside, the more worried I became. Something needed to give – I had to swing the momentum in our favor. I had to do something Zane wouldn't anticipate.

Zane threw me toward the fire again, but this time, I landed on my feet, positioning myself between him and the other fight. I had my idea, I just needed to sell him on it. I charged toward him, again inhibiting his arms in preparation for an attack.

Except this time, I wasn't attacking him.

He dodged to the left, ready to counter my strike, but I ran right by him, heading straight for Rahbya. I let out a shout as I rushed at her, and she did the best thing possible.

She ran.

The terrified little woman made a hole in the hangar wall, fleeing for her life, and liberating Lucy and Wesley in the process. Zane caught me from behind, tackling me and digging his teeth into the side of my neck before I reacted and threw him off. Wes and Lucy came running to help me, but it was Harvey I was most concerned about.

"Get outside," I yelled, as Zane and I continued our struggle on the ground. "Help Harvey first."
To my relief, they listened, bolting for the door. With all three of them, that battle would be over quickly.

I just needed to stay alive until they got back.

Zane and I rolled on the ground, blocking fists and teeth as we tried to land a kill shot. He was growing desperate, going on the offensive more than he needed to, which gave me a narrow attack window from time to time. We traded punches for several seconds before I finally got my shot. I had him pinned down, one hand over his mouth, and my other fist was about to crush his neck, but he was just too fast. Before I could even begin to move my hand to strike, he grabbed it, rolling me over and throwing me against the far wall of the hangar, which was now beginning to cave in on one side.

I fell to the ground, still a little woozy, as he bolted for the hangar door to help his partner. From this distance, I wouldn't be able to catch him before he got there.

Luckily, I wouldn't have to.

Before he could reach the door, Zane came to an abrupt halt. Harvey, Lucy and Wesley walked in together, quickly fanning out to the left and right. Zane looked behind him to see me stand back up and start to close in.

He was trapped. It was over.

"Okay, okay... I surrender," he said, raising his hands as we crept closer.

"There's no surrender here," Harvey said coldly, "not after what you did. You're gonna burn, just like the rest of your friends."

"They're... th-they're not my friends. I have no quarrel with you – I was just following orders. Please..."

"Shut up, coward," Wesley growled, kicking Zane to the ground and placing his foot on the assassin's neck. "This is the end of the road for you."

"I swear – I was only acting out of obligation. It was just a job..."

"It was my friend," Harvey replied, kicking Zane in the ribs, "and he didn't suffer nearly as much as you will." He kicked Zane again, as Lucy and I stood by and watched.

"I didn't mean for anyone else to get hurt – we were just after the one target," Zane said, continuing to plead for his life. "This was not by my choosing. Please, you have to believe me..."

"I don't care whose choice it was," Harvey answered, rolling him over and crouching over his body. "You're gonna pay for what you've done."
He placed his hands around Zane's neck and was about to decapitate him when Lucy intervened.

"Stop!" She yelled, causing Harvey to pause for a moment.

"He's guilty, Lucy. Don't believe him – he's guilty."

"So are you," she countered, visibly emotional. "And so are you, Grant," she said, looking at me with pleading eyes. "And I'm sure Wesley has killed before, too. We've all done horrible things. That doesn't mean we can't show mercy..."

"Lucy, they killed Emilio," Harvey countered, still holding onto Zane's head. "We can't just let him walk after that."

"And besides that, he knows too much. He'll just go back and tell Philippe that Grant's still alive – and that I am," Wesley said, joining the discussion. "I've dealt with this guy, and believe me, he needs to die. It's the only way you'll be safe."

"Haven't enough people died already?" She said, not swayed by their arguments. "You already killed the other two. And if you remember, Zane was the one that wanted to let Emilio live."

Harvey and Wesley said nothing, thinking about what she said as she turned to me, continuing her appeal.

"Grant, you said yourself, you wanted to leave this place because it was turning you into something you're not. A killer. You want to stop killing people because it's wrong. It's wrong, even if it's for revenge. Well, this is your chance to prove it. All of you – it's our chance to prove we're better than that, to prove that we still have our humanity, that we're not monsters. This man surrendered to you. Give him a chance."
Lucy's words struck to the heart. She was right – this was exactly the sort of thing that Havana was doing to us – making us cold-hearted killers. I hated it, but she was right. Killing him would be wrong, even if we felt he deserved to die.

"Harvey, she's right," I said after a long pause. "He deserves a chance. At least let him explain himself. Maybe he's telling the truth."

"He tried to kill you! And me. And Lucy. You're just gonna let him go?"

"It's the right thing to do, Harvey. It's what father would have done."

He couldn't argue with that – he knew it was the truth. Frustrated, he finally released Zane, who still had a lot of explaining to do.

"We'll let you live, for the moment," he said, gruffly. "Now, start talking."

Zane rolled back over, cowering on the floor as Harvey and the rest of us stood over him. For all the intimidation he and his associates had tried to instill earlier, he looked like a scared little child when the tables were turned.

"O-okay. Well, you see, I didn't really want to come here in the first place – I shouldn't even be considered to be part of their coven – Calvin and Eleanor's – not that it even exists anymore. I was only acting out of obligation."

"You said that already," Wesley said skeptically. "We want to know why."

"Alright, well... where should I start?" Zane continued, still nervous. "Umm... I'm... not even from South Africa... and Zane isn't my real name. I w-was born 'Newton Thatcher' in Bermuda... in Nineteen Twenty-two. When I was ten years old, my parents sent me off to a b-uh... boarding school in Sussex, and-"

Harvey was impatient. "We don't care about your life's story."

"No, you... you have to understand where I'm coming from," Zane interjected. "I was on my way to the school in England when Calvin and Eleanor hijacked my ship."

"Who's Eleanor?" I asked, interrupting.

"She was the woman your friends just killed," he answered solemnly. "She and Calvin were working together as assassins for a long time before I entered the picture. Anyway, they hijacked my boat because they were hired to kidnap one of my new classmates. So... um... Calvin killed everyone else on board, but Eleanor convinced him to spare my life. She wanted to keep me... and raise me as her own child. She said I was 'special.' The... uh... the two of them took me back with them to South Africa and kept me there as... a prisoner-of-sorts, feeding me and teaching me when they weren't working a job. In many ways, Eleanor was like... well, like a mother to me, as weird as it sounds..."

"Then you are a part of their coven," I interjected, "and have been for some time..."

"Not really. She wasn't like a good mother. They... treated me more like a pet than a child. They would often lock me in the cellar for days at a time when they left on business. I tried to escape so many times, but I could never get far enough away. They always hunted me down. When I reached physical maturity, Eleanor changed me – she told me it was time for me to repay the debt I owed her for sparing my life. She and Calvin made me work for them, killing people I had never even met. It was horrible, but I had no choice. So... I became an assassin like them."

"Fine, I'll give it to you – that's a sad story," Harvey said, still unconvinced, "but if we just let you go, how do we know you won't run back and tell Philippe and the Volturi about us?"

"And what about the Indian girl, Rahbya?" Wesley added, "what's her connection?"

"Rahbya was an old acquaintance of Calvin's. We occasionally brought her in on a job... w-when we needed extra help. She's a loner – she has no one to go to. Besides, for all she knows, the rest of you are dead. As for myself, I share your dislike and distrust of Philippe DeChevalier. And the Volturi. Time and again, they have forced me to do things... terrible things. They are wretched and vile beings, every one of them. Believe me, I would rejoice if I never had to see or hear from them again."

The four of us were silent for a while as we gave thought to Zane's story. Now that I understood where he was coming from, I felt like a devil for wanting to kill him in cold blood. He was just like the rest of us – thrust into a morally compromised position outside of our will. I wanted to let him live, but as usual, things couldn't be that simple.

"If we let you go... there's still the problem of what to tell Philippe," Wesley said, his arms still crossed in scrutiny. "As soon as he finds out what happened here, he'll come looking for us-"

"And with Emilio gone, we can't hide," Harvey added.

"Then I'll just run away," Zane said, rising slowly to his feet. "I'll go far away, far enough where it won't be worth the trouble to come and find me. By the time he figures out what happened, you'll be long gone. I know that your friend's death is in some part my fault. I'll do whatever I can to atone for my actions, just please, allow me the chance to live..."

"We're not gonna kill you, mate," Wesley said with a sigh. "But we still need to figure out what to do about Philippe. I'm not sure you running away is going to help anything."

"I could lie to him, then... tell him the operation was a success..."

"No, they have ways of learning the truth," Wesley replied, stoking his chin in thought. "I dunno, maybe running is the best way..."

I had been silent the entire time, trying to work things out in my mind. I knew there had to be a solution – something better than running... or lying. And then it hit me – a perfect way out, a chance for everyone to redeem themselves. It would be complicated and risky, but – in my head, at least – it had a good chance of success.

I just hoped it wasn't too late.

"Alright, everyone, listen up," I said, after a long lull in the conversation. "I have a plan."

21. CONFIRMATION

- - - CORALINE GRAY - - -

I LISTENED WITH INESCAPABLE OBSESSION AS THE GRAND CLOCK in the foyer kept its cadence, ticking like a hammer striking a bomb. Each successive stroke brought my world one second closer to obliteration.

Ever since my talk with Philippe, I had pretty much been a permanent fixture in the large entry room, waiting for my fate like a deer on the highway. No one knew what was really going on in my head, not even Philippe, and I'm sure more than a few people thought I was acting a little weird. I didn't care. I had to know the result of Grant's assassination mission as soon as possible.

In order to keep up the belief that everything was back to normal with me after the 'escape attempt,' Philippe had me jump back into my routine as the underground mail courier for the Volturi. Technically, it was my job to check the foyer periodically for any new messages. Of course, I just happened to check really often, and linger there for hours. I didn't want to leave at all, but I did have to deliver the mail when it happened to come.

Again and again the clock chimed, as the hours passed like falling leaves. It had been two days, five hours and forty-six minutes since Philippe had given the order to have Grant killed, and there had been no communication whatsoever from the assassin group. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, as I stood like a statue, watching the door to the elevator.

Maybe it's taking a long time because Grant got away, or he wasn't where they were expecting him to be. Maybe they're afraid to tell Philippe it didn't work... Or, then... maybe they haven't called back yet because they're dead. If Grant really is holed up with some other assassin coven, it could have turned into a gang war, and Grant's group won. Maybe... or maybe this isn't taking long at all – maybe it's normal, and they're just taking their time, making sure to be thorough...

Thinking was too hard. I wanted a distraction.

I walked over to Georgetta, the new night receptionist (Pauline had become a late-night snack for the Volturi), hoping to somehow give my mind a break for a few minutes. Talking with her was pretty awkward – she didn't speak much English, and I didn't speak much Italian. We had been attempting a bi-lingual conversation for about ten minutes, when the phone at her desk rang. Anxious as ever, I listened in to both sides of her conversation while I pretended to wait patiently to resume our dysfunctional talk.

"Hello, how may I help you?" Georgetta answered in Italian, speaking in a bright, cheerful voice that was so over-the-top, I thought I would go into a sugar-induced coma.

"This is Rafael on perimeter guard," the male voice on the other line responded (still in Italian), "I've got an unscheduled entry up here – he says he's here to talk to Philippe DeChevalier. Could you call Felix up to the foyer to escort him down?"

"Certainly," the receptionist answered, bobbing her head to the side like she was a cheerleader. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"No, that will be all," the guard replied.

My mind began racing, as Georgetta hung up the phone and redialed, paging Felix up to the foyer. A man here to see Philippe... it had to be about the operation. All the feelings that had been sliding around in me like a seesaw for the last two days jumped into overdrive. This man was here to tell Philippe that the operation was either a success or a failure.

Whatever the outcome, I would know soon.

If the last 53 hours had been difficult to endure, the five minutes waiting for Felix to arrive were downright unbearable. Georgetta resumed our conversation, doing practically all the talking.

My mind was someplace else.

Why is he here in person? I wondered, trying to have hope, but being too much of a realist for something like that. Why didn't he just call? Aren't they supposed to be secretive, or something? If it was a failure, why would he want to see Philippe in person? Wouldn't it be easier to deliver bad news over the phone? But, then, maybe he's here because he wants to be able to explain things...

The suspense was so strong, I thought I was going to rip in half, as Felix stepped into the large, open room. Georgetta picked up the phone and called Raphael back.

"Felix is here, now. You can send your visitor on down."

Felix said nothing, walking up to the elevator door as we all waited for this visitor to come. After a brief moment, the door opened, and an unfamiliar vampire stepped through. He was young – no more than twenty years old – a handsome, slender man, with straight, sandy brown hair. He was well dressed, with an expensive-looking trench coat and scarf on. In his hands was a black canvas duffel bag.

That made me a little nervous.

"I'm told you're here to see Philippe," Felix questioned him, standing a little closer than necessary, in order to be more intimidating. "What is the nature of your business with him?"

"That is none of your concern," the visitor replied. "It is a private business matter between the two of us. You can ask him to verify my identity, if you feel you must..."

Felix looked him over for a moment, reluctantly accepting the visitor's reason for being here.

"What's in the bag?" He asked, still skeptical.

"It's also a private business matter."

"Open it up," Felix demanded impatiently.

"Very well," the man replied, slightly annoyed.

He placed the duffel bag on the ground and unzipped it demonstratively, as a tiny cloud of dust rose from the opening.

And my world stopped.

The entire bag was filled with ashes – the evidence of a successful assassination. Proof that my heart was now permanently broken beyond all hope of repair.

I stared blankly at the bag, as the truth descended on me.

Grant was dead. I had failed.

The two men continued their conversation, and left, heading down to meet with Philippe. I just stood there, staring into space. Whatever life I had left in me drained out, as layer upon layer of shock and grief struck like crashing waves. I should have slumped lifelessly to the floor, but somehow, I remained on my feet, a statue. Eventually, my feet carried me out of the room, down hallways and corridors, to the solitary place I often went when I was feeling down.

I walked in slow motion, like I was sleepwalking, like I had suddenly stepped out of real life and into some terrible dream. Everything seemed fake – a numb, floating sensation. Eventually, I came to my thinking place, right under that little patch of moonlight in the tunnel.

And reality returned.

I collapsed to the floor, as my heart collapsed inside of me under the weight of the truth.

My love, my joy and hope in this existence was dead, gone forever.

I screamed in pain as the words and thoughts ripped my heart to pieces. Never, until that point, did I realize how deeply, how comprehensively I loved Grant. It was as if my entire being was tied to his, and when he died, the better part of me died with him. All that remained was pain – agonizing pain – and regret. Every moment we had spent together flashed through my mind, as I lay there in my lonely tunnel. So many hours wasted, so many opportunities to love... and I had thrown them all away, too guarded, to afraid of getting hurt. And now, it was that fear, that regret that caused me the most pain.

It was unbearable.

I laid there for hours, wallowing in grief and remorse. I wanted to die, but didn't even have the motivation to end my own life. I didn't have the motivation for anything.

I very well may have stayed curled up in a ball on the floor for weeks, but I heard a strangely familiar voice call my name, pulling me back into the real world, at least for the moment.

"Coraline? There you are! Are you alright? I've been looking all over this place for you..."
Either I was going crazy, or that was Wesley Pemberton's voice I heard echoing through the stone tunnel.

I opened my eyes, turning my head to look, and sure enough, Wesley was there, walking right up to me.

"Wesley? What are you doing here?" I said, confused, and still not in a normal frame of mind.

"I came to tell you the news," he said, kneeling beside me.

"I know. I saw the ashes myself."

"Cor... Grant is alive."

"What?" Somewhere in my delirium, I had begun hallucinating. I could have sworn he said Grant was alive.

"It was a fake," Wesley continued. "Those weren't his ashes. Grant is alive – he's fine."

A sudden burst of sunlight broke into my heart, scorching the clouds of grief and regret around me. My mind tried to control the shift – surely it couldn't be true – but the power of hope was uncontainable. The light just kept growing.

"He's... that's not possible... how?"

"We stopped them," Wesley said excitedly. "We fought them – Grant, Harvey, Lucy and I – and we won."

"Harvey? Harvey's dead..."

"Not the Harvey I know. He's a vampire, and so is his wife, Lucy."

"Oh, my God... are you... are you serious?"

"Cor, they're all fine. We made it."

An indescribable relief flooded my heart, as Wesley's news sunk in. Hope was not dead. My life was not over.

He gave me a quick overview of the last 48 hours, telling me all about the assassins, the battle in Havana, and their decision to spare Zane's life.

"I don't understand," I interrupted, near the end of his story, "if Grant is alive, then how did you pass him off as dead?"

"Those ashes you saw," he answered, " those were Emilio's. We agreed to let Zane live, in exchange for his help convincing Philippe that Grant was really dead. That's what he's been doing here – trying to help. And I think it's working."

"So, then... how are you here? I thought you were a fugitive, just like Grant..."

"Not anymore," he said, with a wink. "Zane told Philippe that I was the one who tipped the scale in his favor, helping him kill Grant and his coven. Philippe didn't like it, but he had to report everything to the Volturi, and they gave me an official pardon, seeing as how I was instrumental in 'eliminating' Grant."

"So that's it? You're free?"

"Free and clear."

"That's amazing. Have you told Harriet? She still thinks you're dead..."

"As soon as we're done here, I'm going to Tokyo to surprise her. Demetri said they have a place for me to work, here in Volterra. I may even get to work alongside Harriet."

"Work? Here? But... don't you need to run away with her?"

"No. Why would I do that? They'd just chase us down..."

"Because of the Volturi – because of Aro. If he reads your mind, he'll know..."

"He already did," Wesley said with a smile.

"He did?"

"Yep."

"But... didn't he... couldn't he tell you were lying?"

"Nope. We tricked them all. One of Grant's new friends in Cuba has this gift – she can reach in and mess with your memories – make you forget stuff."

"She made you... forget everything?"

"Well, not exactly. As soon as the other assassins were dead, Zane and I went to see this girl that does the memory thing. By the time we got to her, it was too late to erase everything completely, but she was able to make it fuzzy enough where we couldn't remember details, which meant Aro couldn't see them, either."

"But you just told me everything that happened..."

"Apparently, we wrote everything down in a note before we left. When the girl messed with our memories, she told us the 'official' story, and sent us on our way to Volterra with the real story on paper. Zane had one part, I had the other. We didn't know why, but we knew we were supposed to get together and read the notes after we talked to the Volturi.. They got pretty messed up in the water on the way here – we couldn't make it all out, but we got the main point. It's a real relief, too. I was thinking for almost a day that I had actually helped kill Grant. Boy, is that a load off of my shoulders..."

"Yeah, I understand the feeling. So, do you know where he is now? Is he still in Cuba?"

I knew it was a long shot, but if I knew where he was, there was at least a chance that I might be able to see him again someday. After the last two heart-wrenching days, I knew I had to be with him, and I was ready to move heaven and earth to get to him.

Wesley's expression went blank for a moment as he went deep into thought.

"You know... I actually don't remember..."

"What? Well, pull out the note. Maybe you wrote it there..."

"The note's gone. We destroyed it right after reading it."

"Why would you do that?" I snapped, a little angrily.

"We had to, Cor. We couldn't risk it getting into the wrong hands."

"But what if there was more information on there? You said you couldn't make it all out..."

"You wouldn't have been able to read it, either. Besides, we may have intentionally left it out of the note for his protection. He's supposed to be dead, and he'll be safe, as long as no one knows otherwise. If I knew where we was going, it could put him at risk."

No, that's not good enough. I need to know where he is. I have to see him...

"Well, do you think he's still in Havana? Maybe if I left now, I could reach him in time..."

"Coraline," he said calmly, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Grant is safe, but he's gonna have to go into hiding again, at least for a little while. There's no way he'd stay more than an hour in Havana. I'm sure he's hundreds of miles away by now."

"But... I need to see him. I have to..."

"You and I both know that's not a good idea. Listen, he knows where you are. Whenever it's safe, I'm sure he'll try to get in touch. He still cares about you – I'm sure of it."

My heart melted. He did still care about me. I had spent so much time thinking about how I felt for him... it was a relief to hear that he still thought of me that way, that he wasn't mad at me... or over me.

Of course, that didn't make the prospect of not seeing him any easier to deal with.

Wesley smiled, leaning over to give me a hug.

"You're gonna be alright, sis. I know it's been a rough couple of years, but we're all gonna get through this, and everything will be back to normal. Just hang in there. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure," I said with a shrug.

"Great. Well, then, I'd best be going – I've got a long way to go if I'm gonna make Tokyo before Harriet leaves..."

"Yeah, go. Have fun. I wish I could be there – just to see the look on her face. It's been really hard on her, you know..."

"I know."

"Tell her I said 'hi,' and to come back here as soon as possible. The three of us have a lot of catching up to do."

"Will do, Cor. I'm off. Keep yourself out of trouble, okay? I'll be back in a couple days."

"I'll try."

With that, he left, and I was alone with my thoughts again – only this time, thinking hurt a lot less. I sat there on the stone floor, processing everything I had just learned, and more than that, thinking about the last four years.

For things looking as bad as they did after the Malmedy disaster, my life was actually starting to turn around. As long as Wesley and Zane could keep their cover story up, Grant would be free to live his life without looking over his shoulder. No one would be hunting him, and as long as he stayed away from Volterra, he'd never have to be in danger again. And, of course, since Philippe and the Volturi were convinced that Grant was dead, I would be off the hook for the whole 'escape' thing.

As a side result, Philippe would be able to get his little promotion, whatever that was, which would hopefully keep him busy enough to stay out of my life. And as if that wasn't enough, Wesley was back in the picture, which would help Harriet get back to being herself. At least, I hoped it would. I was totally ready to get my sister back.

I looked up the shaft of moonlight next to me, once again catching a glimpse of that one little star in the patch of sky overhead. It wasn't so long ago that I saw that star for the first time, trying to deal with the prospect of being imprisoned in the most horrible place in the world.

I felt almost guilty, as I watched the tiny speck of glittering white slowly move across my view; guilty that I had ever seriously thought about ending my own life. Ever since I came to this place, things had been hard. There were so many times when I just wanted to quit, to give up on living altogether. There were times when it didn't seem like I had anything to stay alive for – no reason to go on struggling and hurting. In those times, everything felt like a free-fall, like things would only get worse until finally, one day, I would hit the bottom, and my life would be over.

Sitting in the room after the events of the day, I was so glad to have stuck it out, so glad that I listened to the voice in the back of my head telling me to hang in there, to trust in a hope just one more time. I was glad to be alive, because I finally realized that what I thought was a free-fall was actually an orbit. I had reached a low point, a point when I was furthest away from Grant and Harriet, from freedom and happiness and meaning. I had reached that point, but now, I was coming back, and even though the road ahead of me was forever-long, I knew I was headed in the right direction. All I needed was a little more patience.

I watched the sky, until the star passed by and the white moonlight was replaced by the golden beams of the morning sun, finally standing up to walk back into the commons and move forward with my life. For better or worse, Volterra was my home for the foreseeable future, and for once, I didn't want to leave. Grant knew where I was, and he finally had the freedom and time to find a way to get here.

We would be together again, I just had to wait for him to come for me.

22. MOVING FORWARD

- - - GRANT WILLOUGHBY - - -

THIS WOULD ALL BE OVER SOON. THE RUNNING, THE HIDING, THE late night plans, the scouting and research...

It would all be over soon.

That's what I kept telling myself those first six weeks after the disastrous run-in with my past in Havana. Judging from the fact that no one else from Volterra came after me, I assumed that Wesley and Zane had successfully carried out our plan, faking my death and making a happy ending for all. Well, for some, at least. For others, carrying on at all was a heavy burden.

We never had time to formally grieve for Emilio, though we each mourned him in our own way. For me, the best way to cope with things was to keep going. I placed the blame for his death squarely on my own shoulders, and to sit and think and dwell on that guilt would have wrought havoc on my already-strained emotions. I couldn't deal with that – I had to keep us all moving forward.

After sending Wesley and Zane on their way, Harvey, Lucy and I packed our important belongings in minutes, and immediately set out on foot for South America. After a brief water-skimming journey across the gulf of Mexico, we made our way through the jungles of Guatemala and Panama, eventually reaching an old business contact in the mountains of Peru.

We spent six weeks and four days there, lying low, gathering information, and trying to figure out what to do next. We were all in agreement – there was no way we were going back to Havana. Even with an open invitation from Hawkins, we knew it would be too risky, both to our safety and to our moral well-being. Instead, we decided to try and make a steady living in a new area, eventually settling down in Whitefish, Montana.

Whitefish was a small resort town on the edge of Glacier National Park, in the northwestern part of the state. It was sparsely populated, remote, way off the 'grid,' and most importantly, it was one of the cloudiest cities on the continent, averaging almost five 'vampire-friendly' days every week.

Things were difficult for us, at first. Besides the fact that we had all grown accustomed to a relatively fast-paced lifestyle (which was nonexistent in Whitefish), we had a hard time finding enough blood to feed on. The downside to being someplace remote is that you have to travel a long way to reach another large city. The three of us had resorted to roaming as far away as Calgary to find suitable fluids, before stumbling upon a better solution.

The closest reasonably-sized town to us was Kalispell, with a population of about 10,000. I visited the mortuaries there often, trying to acquire local blood whenever possible. Most of the morticians were too morally upstanding to accept bribes, which left me with two corruptible night shift workers at one of the larger establishments, and Wally.

Wally Montaverde was a quiet old man who ran a small embalming business in town. He quickly grew suspicious of my unusual interest in the deceased, and cornered me one day, asking why I was always hanging around. I lied, and told him I was interested in getting into the undertaking business myself.

It turned out to be quite a beneficial untruth.

Wally, it just so happened, was in need of a little help with his work (as well as a little company, since his wife had passed away), and he offered to let me work as his apprentice. I was a quick study (besides having a wealth of knowledge on human anatomy and the process of decay), and within six months, I had been given the responsibility to drain the blood out of all the cadavers that Wally's business received. It wasn't a lot, but Harvey, Lucy and I made it work, gradually spacing out our eating routine until we were almost exclusively sustained by the blood I acquired working for Wally.

The three of us gradually became acclimated to life in the mountains, and after a while, it did grow on us. We built a couple of nice houses, drove around in new cars, and engaged ourselves in the local culture. All in all, we lived a quiet, simple, enjoyable life – I had everything I really wanted.

The only thing missing was Coraline.

Despite my brother's urging against it, I had addressed a portion of the note I sent with Wesley to Coraline, detailing how she would be able to get in touch with me again, should she ever decide to. I had a mailing address set up for a 'Mr. Howard Pearson' in Concord, New Hampshire, and made a special 'financial arrangement' with a mail courier there, ensuring that all hand-addressed envelopes sent that way would be intercepted and rerouted to a post office box in Billings, Montana. I checked that p.o. box every three days for eight months, making the 400-mile round trip through the mountains during the night to avoid being seen.

Nothing came.

Gradually, the frequency of my trips lessened to weekly, then every-other week, then monthly. After two years of checking, I had mostly given up hope, though I could never bring myself to stop looking. I always wondered what had happened. Had she moved on with her life – was I only an afterthought? Did she want to write, but not have the freedom to do so? Was she too busy to get around to it? Was she even alive?

I spent an inordinate amount of time pondering each scenario, being convinced at one time or another that each one was the truth. On several occasions, I got it in my head to go to Volterra and find out for myself, just to be sure. Each time, though, my brother and sister-in-law would talk me out of it. 'It's suicide,' they'd tell me. 'You've done all you can do – it's up to her, now.' Every time, I would end up staying, though in my heart of hearts, I longed to go. As much as I tried to forget Coraline, I couldn't, and life just wasn't right without her.

I had been living a happily anonymous life (as 'Grant Penbrook') in Whitefish for two and a half years, when an unexpected letter arrived in the mailbox at the end of my secluded driveway, addressed to a 'Mister Danny Watson.' Instantly curious and apprehensive, I tore into the letter, finding something quite delightful inside.

A wedding invitation.

It seemed in the year and a half since I had last spoken with him, Jasper had found a young lady who had caught his fancy, and the two of them were having a formal wedding ceremony the first weekend in May. Along with the calligraphy-laden formal invitation was a hand-written personal note from Jasper, wishing me well, and requesting that I honor him by serving as a groomsman in his wedding party. I talked it over with Harvey and Lucy, and we all thought it was a marvelous idea, so the three of us set our affairs in order at home, and left for an extended vacation to go celebrate with Jasper.

The wedding was hosted by the Cullen family, a large, peaceful coven, which Jasper and his fiancé, Alice, had joined somewhat recently. The Cullens were living in New York, near Syracuse, which meant we had quite the road trip to make, so Harvey, Lucy and I piled into my 1949 Cadillac convertible, and made an adventure of it. We stopped at every conceivable point of interest on the way, and arrived at the Cullen residence three days before the wedding.

The house far exceeded my expectations – I could see why someone would want to be married there. Nestled deep into the wooded hills east of town was a large, solitary home, surrounded by blossoming trees and the cheerful-sounding creatures that inhabited them. The building itself was a marvel – pure, radiant white paneling covered all three stories of the plantation-style mansion, complete with decorative shutters and full-length pillars spanning the broad front porch. The actual ceremony would take place in the back yard, where a clearing in the trees had been made, opening up a mountainside vista leading down to a small, shimmering lake.

It was, in a word, perfect.

The driveway was long and winding, and by the time we had pulled up in front of the house, someone had come outside to greet us – a tall young man with short brown hair and a subtle smile.

"You must be Danny," he said cordially, extending his hand as I stepped out of the vehicle. "And I assume your friends here are Harvey and... Lucy – right?"

"That's right," I answered, shaking hands with the familiar-looking vampire. I knew I had seen his face before, and apparently, the feeling was mutual.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" the young man asked me, with a quizzical look. "Maybe under a different name?"

"I did go by 'Grant Willoughby' several years ago-"

"That's it! I met you in Casa Blanca – with Hermes. I was there with Carlisle and Esme..."

"Yes, I remember – Edward, right?"

"Ha! It's a small world, isn't it?" He said, his smile widening. "Well, it's about to get a lot smaller. Follow me, I'll show you your room."

Edward showed us to our room, and afterward, gave us a grand tour of the house, which was even more impressive from the inside. Every room was well-furnished and decorated with expensive and tasteful artwork. You could tell they put a lot of time into their living space – they must have been planning on staying there for a while.

By the time we finished the tour, Jasper was finally available, and he and I took a brief walk down to the waterfront to catch up a bit. As soon as we were out of the house, I started up the conversation, eager to hear details on his new love.

"So, Jasper... tell me about her? What's she like? How did you meet?"

"Ah... she's an angel," he replied with a contended sigh. "Alice is totally unlike any woman I would have imagined myself with, but she's perfect for me. She's bright and cheery, and funny, and completely adorable. Besides all that, though... we... work together. She just 'gets' me, you know? Of course, she does have the advantage of being able to read my future, but still..."

"Wait – she can read your future? Like, an ability?"

"One of the strongest one's I've ever seen. She sees glimpses of the future – things that are likely to happen, unless someone changes their mind, or something. That's actually how we met – she saw a vision of us being together and in love, so she followed the vision and waited for me where we were supposed to find each other."

"Wow. That's... interesting. So, if she hadn't seen the future, then... would that future still have happened? Or would it have been different..."

"I gave up on trying to figure all that out. It's just a fringe benefit. The point is, she's great, and I love her."

"I'm happy for you, Jasper. You deserved a break."

"Yeah, well I got even more than I deserved. After we found each other, Alice had a vision of the Cullen family, and we were a part of it, so we found them, and they've accepted us like we were their own. They're kind of like you – they don't kill to eat. Well, not humans, at least. They hunt animals. I'm trying it their way, and... I think I may actually be able to get used to it, which would be wonderful. It's just been one pleasant surprise after another. I'm a lucky man."

"That's great. I'm glad to hear things are going so well for you."

"So, how have things been in Montana? Sorry I haven't kept in touch more, I've just had so much going on..."

"That's fine, I understand being busy. Well, let's see... I'm working as a mortician's assistant in Kalisbell, which has been a great experience. I don't have to break into places or bribe my way into blood now, I just sneak it out after work. I'm hoping to be able to get my license and run my own mortuary soon – that way, Harv, Lucy and I will have all the blood we could want."

"Yeah, how are they doing – with the whole, 'cold blood' thing? I know it must be hard for them..."

"It is, but they've done better than I expected. Harvey did have one unfortunate slip-up in Canada about six months ago, and apart from that, we've been hunting-free for the last... well, almost three years now. I'm really proud of Lucy – she's still kept a clean record to this day. I wish I could say that."

"You mean she's never killed anyone?"

"No. No one."

He looked skeptical. "Maybe she just didn't tell you. I know newborns, and they're not much for restraint..."

"I believe her. She's got a very tender heart – she just can't bear to hurt anyone. And besides that, I keep a close eye on her."

"Well... I guess I'll have to take your word on it, then. Listen, I've got to be in two or three places at once right now... can we pick this back up later?"

"Sure – go, do your 'wedding' chores. If you need any help, let me know."

"Will do, Danny. Thanks."

I spent the rest of the time before the wedding trying to find something to do – and staying out of the way. There were seventeen vampires in town for the big event, and even for a large house, things got a little crowded from time to time. Besides the five members of the Cullen family already in town, there were five more from a coven in Alaska, two of Jasper's friends from his days in Texas (Peter and Charlotte), two from Havana (Hawkins and Persephone), and the three of us from Montana. Two other Cullens were set to arrive just in time for the ceremony, which would bring the head count to a grand total of nineteen.

Things went by fairly quickly over the rest of our stay with the Cullens, and before I knew it, it was almost time for the ceremony. I gave myself a bit of a pep talk, as I put on my tuxedo and prepared to go stand with Jasper. As much as I was happy for him, a part of me was struggling with the loneliness in my heart, something that was only intensified by a celebration of romance. This is Jasper's time, I told myself, you need to be happy for him. It's not fair to pull his mood down on his wedding day, just because you're feeling lonely. You can compartmentalize. For the next two hours, it's just Jasper and Alice – and nothing more. There will be plenty of time to think about Coraline later. Keep it together.

I took my place in the wedding party, alongside Peter and Jasper, and put the final lock-down on my emotions, as I surveyed the lush scenery around me. The back lawn was decorated with every flower imaginable, adding a splash of color to the white chairs and arch that sat facing the lake. Off to one side was a baby grand piano, which Edward played masterfully, just one more thing that brought Coraline back to the front of my mind. Carlisle officiated the ceremony, waiting underneath the arch, as the bridesmaids walked down the aisle one after the other.

I didn't need an ability to sense the growing anticipation as the final bridesmaid stepped into place, and everyone stood, turning back toward the house. Edward began playing the bridal march, and Alice stepped out, dressed in a trendy-yet-elegant white wedding gown. She glided down the aisle with an almost dance-like grace, and took Jasper's hand, both their faces radiant with joy.

Happy, happy, happy, I reminded myself, fighting off the emotions welling up in me as my thoughts drifted toward Coraline again.

Smile. Be happy.

The ceremony was just as elegant and well-orchestrated as the decorations, and before I knew it, Jasper kissed his new bride, and the party was on. Edward left the piano and brought out a phonograph machine, and everyone began mingling and dancing. I actually would have preferred to skip the after-party altogether – I wasn't much in the mood for making conversation – but I stuck it out for Jasper's sake.

I began the party talking to Carlisle, discussing the steady life they enjoyed in New York, but before long, I was approached by a familiar, somewhat intimidating surprise guest.

"You!" the towering vampire grunted, as he walked up to me. "I remember you, Mr. 'I'm so bad at pool, please, take all my money.'"

It was Emmett, the guy I took for a large sum of money the night I almost killed that woman. Somehow, he looked a lot bigger and scarier now.

Gulp.

"I'll... leave you two to work out your differences," Carlisle said with a smile, as he slipped away. I glanced around for Harvey, but he was nowhere to be found.

"I had to cut my vacation short because of you... and I had to walk home, which made my wife really mad, and when she gets mad, I get mad."

"I... uh... I mean, um..." I stuttered, trying to think of some way to talk myself out of a thrashing at the hands of an angry giant.

"You meant to say you're sorry, and you'll never do it again, right?" He said, leaning in, and clenching his fists threateningly.

"Yes, e-exactly. Very, very sorry..."

"Good," he said with a smile. "Now that that's out of the way... I'm gonna grab Edward and do something really nasty to Jasper's car. You in?"

Seriously? That's it? I guess I'm not so unlucky, after all.

"Um... sure. I'm always happy to help."

"Great. Let's hurry, before they get suspicious."

Edward was caught up in another conversation, so the two of us snuck out, grabbing a sack full of rotten eggs on our way to Jasper's car.

"Sorry about that earlier," Emmett said over his shoulder, as we headed out across the front yard to a nearby field, which had been converted into a parking lot. "I had to give you a hard time about that one. Seriously, though, you have got to be the best pool shark I've ever seen."

"Oh, uh... thanks..."

"Man, Rosalie was so mad at me... she didn't talk to me for a day and a half."

"Wow. I'm sorry..."

"Nah, don't be. It all worked out for me in the end. Broke me from the gambling habit, for sure. And besides that..." He leaned in, with a devious smile, "make-up sex is way hot."

Wow. Didn't really need to know that.

"I'm...um...sure it is."

When we got to the field, every car was accounted for, except one – Jasper's."

"Aww, come on!" Emmett groaned, throwing the paper sack to the ground in defeat. "Alice must've seen it coming. Jeez laweeze – she takes the fun outta everything! I'm just gonna have to think of something at the last minute..."

He stalked off to make his new plans, and I reluctantly went back to rejoin the festivities.

Everyone was still dancing and chatting when I returned, so I took the opportunity to stand on the outside and 'people-watch' for a while. Jasper and Alice were sharing dances with various guests, most of whom had a pretty good handle on ballroom technique. Peter, Edward and Harvey seemed to be engulfed in a deep conversation, and Hawkins was putting the moves on one of the Alaskan girls, who, from the looks of things, was quite interested in his advances.

I had been enjoying the somewhat numbing effect of being a spectator for nearly twenty minutes, when something caught my eye. Another one of the girls from Alaska, who had been dancing for a while, stopped for a moment to let her hair down, sending strawberry curls flowing down her shoulders and back. The gentle breeze toyed with her lovely hair, causing it to dance and twirl ever-so-subtly, and I found myself watching intently. The way she looked, the way she moved, the way the wind swept through her hair – it all reminded me of Coraline. I had been trying to hold back thoughts of her all day, but my will power was finally giving out.

I stood there and watched the lovely young lady dance, as my mind wandered through bittersweet memories of my time with Coraline. I saw the trip to Vienna, and our downtown shopping excursion. I saw the flower garden she had planted, and the forest trails we would walk down beside our house in Malmedy. I saw the look on her face when saw the star field from my little airplane. Every memory brought a smile to my face and a figurative tear to my eye. The nostalgia outweighed the sadness, though, and I surrendered myself to the memories.

The Alaskan girl must have noticed my attention – she stopped dancing after a few moments, tossing her pretty hair out of her face and walking straight toward me. Needless to say, I was a little unnerved by her approach, but I watched her still, though now more from awkward nervousness than my previous nostalgia. She was a beautiful young woman from head to toe, with a face that seemed both exotic and familiar. The sway of her hips in her well-fitted satin dress was almost hypnotic, and before I could find a distraction to escape into, she was right there in front of me.

"What's wrong? Tired of dancing already?" She asked with a playful smile coloring her pink lips.

"No, I...uh, actually enjoy dancing. Well, at least most of the time. It's just... well, I was just enjoying a little time to think – and of course, watching the other dancers. You all move so beautifully..."

"Thanks," she responded, extending her hand to me. "I don't think we've been formally introduced. I'm Tanya."

"Grant," I replied, shaking her hand delicately. "You're one of Jasper's friends from Alaska, right?"

"Actually, I just met Jasper, but yes, I'm from Alaska. My sisters and I have been close friends of the Cullens for a long time. And how about you – how are you connected here?"

"Jasper and I worked together for several years."

"Oh yeah? What sort of work did you do?"

"We were... well, I guess there's no better way to say... we were sort of like assassins."

"Oh, okay. So, you were working with Hawkins, too?"

"Yes, that's right."

"That is so interesting. I'm sure you have all kinds of stories..."

"Well... I suppose I do..."

I spent the next few minutes recounting some of the more interesting assignments I had been part of during my time in Cuba, while Tanya feigned interest. It didn't take a mind reader to figure out what she was up to.

"There's something so attractive about a man of action," she said eventually, reaching out to feel my right bicep. "And so strong, too. You must keep the ladies very busy..."

"No, no..." I said, a little unsettled by her flattery. "I'm not much of a ladies' man."

"Oh, I see," she replied, a little disappointed. "Already taken?"

I wanted to say 'yes' so badly – to have Coraline here right now, dancing, chatting, smiling... but I couldn't, and I would be fooling myself to think I ever could.

"Well, no, not exactly..."

"So, you're single, then..."

"I guess... I suppose you could say I haven't been lucky in love. That's alright, though, I've come to terms with it."

"I know exactly how you feel," she said, placing her hand back on my arm. "Disappointment, rejection, impossible circumstances... you and I, we have a lot in common."

"We... do?"

"Oh, yes. You're not the only single person who had to suffer through watching two other people have their 'happy ending.'"

"It has been difficult, at times-"

"Excruciating," she interjected, moving in a little closer and speaking in a lower voice. "You know, though... there is a way we could feel better about all this, to help each other through..."

"And, um... what would... uh, that be?"

Judging by the look in her face and her physical proximity to me, I already knew the answer to that question. She pulled in closer, until we were almost touching, making sure the low neckline of her dressed formed a pink satin frame for her perfect breasts, right in my line of sight.

"There are plenty of empty rooms in that big house right now – rooms with big, soft beds... or without, if you like it that way..."

Oh, dear God. Somebody get me out of this...

Before I could reply, another woman approached, apparently Tanya's sister.

"Hey there, Tanya," she said stepping in unnecessarily close. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend?"

Great. Just what I needed – more trouble.

"Irina, dear... as you can see, we're in the middle of a conversation," Tanya replied, visibly annoyed.

"I'm Irina, nice to meet you," the new girl said, extending her hand to me.

"Grant. Nice to meet you, Irina."

"You two look awfully cozy over here... looking for a little rebound action, Tanya?"

"Shut up, Irina," Tanya snapped. "Go find your own man." She pulled herself next to me, hands wrapped around my arm. "Grant and I have plans..."

"Well, Grant," Irina said, unfazed, "Tanya's not the only lady here available for... 'plans.'"

"You're too late, Irina," Tanya countered. "Grant and I were just leaving. That is, if you're still up for it..." She glanced up at me.

Irina continued before I could respond "Oh, well... if you're still interested after that... I'll be here all night," she said in a sultry voice, smiling seductively.

I felt like an idiot, standing there with two beautiful women practically throwing themselves at me. I should have been thrilled at my good fortune – anyone in their right mind would have been.

And me... all I could think about was Coraline.

I glanced rapidly around the dance floor as the two vixens awaited my response, looking for a reasonable way to get myself out of the situation without being rude.

Fortunately, I had backup.

"Grant! There you are..." Edward said, walking over swiftly and stepping in between me and Irina. "Sorry, ladies, but I need to steal him away for a bit. We have very urgent 'post-wedding' business to take care of."

Tanya released me reluctantly, as Edward started leading the way off into the woods.

"Nice talking to you, ladies," I said with tremendous relief, as I followed him past the tree line.

This guy was my new hero.

"You looked like you could use a little help back there. Hope you don't mind me stepping in like that..."

"No, not at all. I'm actually very glad you came over. Those women were just so..." Forward...Loose...Harlot-like...

"Yeah, I know," he said with a smirk. "I saw all the debaucherous things they were planning on doing to you – but, that's just how they are. They come by it naturally. Of course, they did have a little extra motivation in your case."

"Why? Just because I'm single?"

"Your friend from Havana, Persephone – she's been going around spreading the word that you're single and 'extremely available,' whether that means lasting love or a one-night-stand."

"She... what? Why would she -"

"You're the distraction. Ever since she showed up with that other guy from Havana... what's his name?"

"Hawkins."

"Yeah... all three sisters have been drooling over him the whole time, and I'm sure he's been making his way around, if you know what I mean. Persephone pretends not to care, but she is just burning up with jealousy. It's crazy – I don't know why she doesn't just come out and say it. He obviously likes her."

Suddenly, my previous conversation with the ladies made a lot more sense. Of course, that's about all that made sense.

"Love can be so damned complicated..." I said with a sigh, still following Edward through the thinning forest.

"Tell me about it," he responded, still looking ahead.

I wondered for a moment why Edward was taking me into the woods, forgetting that he read minds.

"We're going to decorate Jasper's car."

"Oh... okay." Doesn't he know-

"Alice saw what Emmett was going to do, so she had Jasper move it out here in the middle of the woods. I promised her I'd be nice if she told me where it was."

"And she believed you?"

"She already saw what we're going to do."

"Interesting. Alright, well... I guess we'd better get it right, then."

We walked for a few more moments in silence, before he spoke up again, responding to my thoughts.

"So, who's the girl?" He asked, somewhat casually.

"What girl?"
"Oh, sorry – the one you keep seeing in your mind. She's beautiful. A friend? Lover?"

"I guess you could say a little of both." I replied, my voice dejected and melancholy. "I'll never really know for sure."

"I'm sorry. Did she... she's dead?"

"No... well, actually, I don't even know that. I don't think she is... Oh, it's a long story."

"I didn't mean to pry, it's just -"

"No, it's okay. I've been trying not to think about her this entire weekend. I'm tired of trying. Her name is Coraline, and she is... was... oh, whatever. She's amazing. I... I-"

"You really love her," he said, looking back at me with a slight smile.

"Yes. I do." Unfortunately.

"What do you mean, unfortunately?" He asked, suddenly curious.

The two of us stopped walking, pausing amidst the budding trees to talk more substantially.

"I loved that woman – I still do. I loved her more than I thought I could ever love anyone or anything. I tied my entire world to her, but... but life tore us apart. I've been away from her for years, now... long enough to move on with my life, but I can't. I just can't let her go, and the tragic thing is, I'll probably never see her again – if she is alive."

"That's horrible. No wonder you seem down..."

"The worst part is being constantly reminded of how utterly disjointed I am on her account. I just... I don't know... I can't seem to... look at women the same way anymore. It's like I'm stuck. There were two beautiful young women back there who – despite whatever their motivation might have been – would have been more than willing to sleep with me. And, I have no doubt that it would have been enormously enjoyable. I mean... what's wrong with me, right? Any man in his right mind would jump at that chance. I honestly wish I could – that I could be like Hawkins, floating around, unattached, enjoying the company of anyone he chooses. I wish it could be that easy, but it can't.

"Tanya is a beautiful woman by anyone's account – stunning. My eyes can see that. The thing is, every time I see her, or even think about doing anything with her, I think of Coraline, and everything else seems so... empty. Hers is the face in my mind – the only one I seem to be able to truly see. She's beautiful to me in a way that neither Tanya, nor Irina, nor any other woman could ever be. When I see her face, I don't just see a mouth and nose and eyes. I see her wit and sense of humor. I see her bravery and honesty and hidden compassion. I see everything about her that I've grown so attached to, so comfortable with – everything I love about her. And... no matter how lovely another person may be, they can never be as beautiful to me as Coraline. They can never replace her. She has... ruined me in the worst way. I am ruined."

Edward's eyebrows creased in a sort of concerned pity.

"Is that really what you think? That love... is some kind of curse?"

"Maybe not for everyone, but for me..."

"You had a beautiful thing. You still have a beautiful thing. It's... it's not a curse."

"Unrequited love is more a curse than this vampire state. It's a mortal wound that lacks the decency to kill."

"But, you don't even know that it's unrequited – you said so yourself."

"I did?"

"Well, maybe not with your mouth..."

"Look – whatever love she may have had for me is either dead in her, or dead with her. It's... hopeless."

"Did she ever love you?" He asked, a little more aggressive now.

"I don't know."

"Yes you do. Your thoughts give you away."

"I think... I thought she did. Yes, I suppose there's a good chance she did."

"Then she still does."

"And how on earth could you possibly surmise that?" I said, growing defensive. He didn't know me, or my situation.

"Because she's a vampire. We don't change often, and when we do... it's life-encompassing. If she ever loved you at all, she still does. I can promise you that."

The words he spoke hurt more than they encouraged, as so often hope can. Little broken parts of me came back to life for a moment, parts that stung wildly.

"I wish I didn't care so much," I said, defeated. "As horrible as it sounds, I wish I could forget her, or that I ever knew her at all. At least then, I would have peace."

Edward was visibly upset by this point, though I couldn't yet understand why.

"You really want to be like your friend, Hawkins?" He said, moving toward me slightly. "You think he has it made? He's desperately lonely. Desperately. Every time he bags another girl, it's just a bandage on the festering wound inside him, just... a temporary distraction from the real problem. He's in love with Persephone, but he'll never tell her, and he'll never let her in, because they've broken each-other's trust so many times. He doesn't think she could ever trust him, and he may be right. But let me tell you – at the end of the night, he's every bit as lonely as you are. And you think having what – a year – with a woman you love is a curse? I have spent the last thirty years looking, hoping to find even half of the happiness you had with this girl. The woman married to Emmett – Rosalie – she was meant as a mate for me. That's why Carlisle changed her in the first place. I was supposed to love her, and I tried, but it just wasn't right. And Tanya – she's been pursuing me for years. She's smart, and beautiful, and – yeah, any guy would be thrilled to have her. But I can't. I don't love her. I would give anything to have just one year of that feeling, to be able to give that kind of love and devotion to someone. Love is a gift, no matter what sort of package it comes in. Don't... don't regret it."

I was shocked by the passion of his comments – especially given the fact that Edward had only known me for three days. And yet, I couldn't ignore what he had to say. The truth is the truth, whether it seems harsh or not.

"Sorry," I said meekly, not wanting to stir up any more feelings. "I didn't know it was such a sensitive subject..."

"I know more about loneliness that you realize," he said, now calm and reassuring. "It's hard... watching the rest of your family go along with their perfect love life, while you're stuck on the sidelines. I know. I live there all the time. You can't give up, though. Neither can I. We just have to believe our time will come."

"Or that it hasn't already passed us by..."
"Somehow, I don't think it has."

"Thanks, Edward. It's nice to have someone tell it to me straight. Guess I needed that." Of course, it did sting a bit...

"Always happy to lend a hand," he said with a smile, patting me on the shoulder. "Now, speaking of help, let's hurry up and decorate that car before it's too late."

We wrote on the windshields with soap and tied cans to the back of the newlywed's automobile, and slipped back into the party just in time. Jasper and Alice were making their last rounds, saying their goodbye's before heading off for a month-long honeymoon somewhere in the south Atlantic.

Jasper had a shorter line, so I waited my turn, and stepped in to say a final farewell to my close friend, for whom I was authentically happy. This was the future he deserved.

"You did well, Jasper," I said, shaking his hand and pulling him in for a brief back-slapping hug. "From everything I can see, she's a great girl. I'm sure you two will be quite happy together."

"I know we will," he replied, an immovable smile on his face. "Thanks for coming. I know it's been hard for you, and it really means a lot to me."

"It's my pleasure."

"Don't be a stranger. Call or visit any time you want – I'm sure Carlisle won't mind."

"I'll do that. Have a good trip."

I stepped aside to let Jasper move on to the next guest, and headed over to congratulate the new bride.

"It was a beautiful wedding, Alice," I said, shaking her hand. "And you look lovely. Jasper is a lucky man."

"Thanks!" She said with a bright smile. "I'm the lucky one, though. He's such a stud! What a guy..."
"Yes, he is quite a guy."

I started to make my slightly awkward exit from the conversation, but she pulled in a little closer, as if to say something in private.

"Jasper told me – about your situation with Coraline. I know you've been feeling really sad about it..."

"It's alright. I'm fine."

"That's not what Jasper said."

"Okay, well... I'll manage. I don't want to rain on your parade."

"Well, about that... I wanted to tell you, I have a good feeling that things are going to get a lot better for you. And pretty soon, I think."

"B-better? How?"

"You'll just have to wait and find out," she said with a slightly devious smile. "I can't be sure of anything, but... well, no, I'll let you see for yourself. Just..., be happy. Things will get better."

"Okay... well, thank you. I'll take that to heart."

"Good."

"I'd better let you get on your way..."

"Yeah, Jasper's already going to be speeding to get to the airport on time. Oh, and good job on the car. Thanks for being nice."

"Oh, uh... you're welcome."

She leaned over to give me a friendly hug, before taking Jasper's hand and pulling him away with her, toward their getaway vehicle. Harvey, Lucy and I stayed with the Cullens for another 4 days, playing cards, learning how to play 'baseball,' and generally having a great time. They were all quite agreeable people (except for Rosalie, on occasion), and the more we talked with them, the more we realized we had in common with them. They gave us an open invitation to come stay with them anytime we wanted, and I suspected we would take them up on it on more than one occasion.

After more than a week in New York, I was anxious to get back to Whitefish and my business with Wally, so we left the Cullens, and made the long drive home. I wasn't much for conversation on the way back – I was too preoccupied with what Edward and Alice had said to me the day of the wedding. If it was true that vampires were so unchanging, then I did have reason to hope that Coraline still cared about me (that is, provided she was still alive). Add to that Alice's cryptic prediction about things "getting better" soon, and I had the recipe for a positive outlook on love for the first time in a very long time. I wondered all the way home what form this prediction of Alice's would take when it came to pass – or whether I would even notice it.

Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long to find out.

EPILOGUE

I SPENT THIRTEEN DAYS LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER – NOT

out of fear (for once), but in anticipation. Every since the day Alice had predicted a change of fortunes for me, I had been searching high and low for it.

As fate would have it, it was my change that found me.

I came home from work at the mortuary early one morning, and, as was my custom, I checked the little mailbox at the end of my driveway. My family and I hadn't really made any significant friends in Whitefish, and our house was new enough (and out-of-the-way enough) that we didn't get much in the way of junk mail.

Mostly, I just checked the box periodically for bills. This time, though, there was something quite out of the ordinary inside.

The only piece of mail in the box was a small letter, hand-addressed. It was the recipient's name that immediately caught my attention.

It was addressed to 'Grant Willoughby.'

I hadn't used that name in nearly seven years. No one from Havana called me by it, and no one at the wedding would have known or used it, either. My senses raced as I inspected the letter, trying to figure out whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. On the front, was a postal marking, indicating the letter had been sent from Rome, Italy.

That didn't narrow things down at all.

I carried the letter back inside the house, pondering things for a bit longer, before deciding to just open it, and get it over with. Whether it was good or bad news, I wasn't helping myself by remaining ignorant of it.

I opened the envelope, and pulled out the single sheet of paper, reading its contents swiftly, but carefully.

Grant,

I hope this letter finds you well, and that you're safe and happy. I know you've been lying low for a long time now, and I truly hope this message doesn't upset you, but I just had to find out for sure if you were okay.

I can't stop thinking about that day in Malmedy and how totally messed up everything became. I can't stop thinking about you. I'm so sorry about everything that you've had to go through over the last few years, and I swear, if I could take your place, I would. I will understand if you choose not to

respond to this letter, either for safety or personal reasons, but I would be totally thrilled to hear back from you. I'm still confined to the underground city in Volterra, but you can reach me by sending a letter to the address on the other side of this note.

I hope to hear from you soon (but I'll understand if I don't).

Your dear friend forever,

-Coraline

I read the letter over and over, making sure that this wasn't some sort of dream. Coraline was alive – and well – and she wanted to reopen a relationship with me. It was more than I could take in. I had wanted this to happen for so long, wishing for it, but never trusting a hope. And now... now I had something to hold on to – something to work towards. I didn't know how she found me, and quite frankly, I didn't care. All that mattered was that she still cared for me in some way. She had opened the door, and this time, I was going to do whatever was necessary to step through it. I would contact her again if I had to deliver the letter myself.

My hands trembled slightly with excitement, as I sat down to write my reply, so eager to respond that I had to go through two broken pens before I put a note together. I couldn't help the excitement – this was the best news I had heard in a long time.

Alice was right – things were about to get better.