Thanks for the reviews and alerts! And thank you, Leelan Oleander for beta-ing this monster, holding my hand and catching all my very, very stupid mistakes.
Twilight isn't mine.
I fled through the passages, in a panic, to get away from the scene before I was caught eavesdropping. My pale grey robes flared out behind me as the milky-veined marble walls flashing past me turned to undressed dull gray stone—my route took me through dank underground tunnels that went on for miles. I had to avoid running into any of my brethren who would doubtless be heading to where I had just left.
I ran up a winding flight of stairs and entered the brightly illuminated lobby area. I breathed more easily now; no vampire would enter from this area except Heidi and Rosalie, and when they did, it would be obvious.
The lobby area was covered with marble too, an expansive—and expensive—carpet covering a portion of it. It was complemented by the bright Tuscan landscapes on the walls that looked so realistic that humans often mistook them for windows. Vases on plinths held blooms about the size of my outstretched palms, their scent permeating every corner of the room. But they weren't strong enough to mask the scent of the human at the desk, who called out a polite greeting to me.
As I shut the iron door behind me with a clang, her water-lily scent hit the back of my throat like an army of scorpions. It was masked partially by the foul perfume in which she doused herself in daily, most probably to prevent us blood-thirsty vampires from wrenching her neck to the side and plunging her our teeth into her rapidly pulsing vein…
Which was beating even faster now, thanks to my dark, almost-black-burgundy eyes being fixated on it. Her adrenaline spiked, and as I tore my eyes away from her neck, I noticed the fearful expression in her green eyes and her knuckles, bone-white from gripping the mahogany countertop. So she wasn't as blasé as she appeared, I thought, cackling to myself.
I realized I was standing stock still in the middle of the lobby like a statue, and exited the room as quickly as possible. Aro would not be happy if I happened to kill the receptionist just before the feeding.
I took the stairs five at a time, since there was no sight, nor smell of life close by.
As I scaled the innumerable flights of stairs, I wondered if Gianna ever regretted Aro having chosen her as the part of the human façade that the Volturi had assiduously cultivated over the years to hide from mortal scrutiny. What she knew offered her only two paths—immortality or death.
And the choice wasn't really hers to make. If Aro thought she wasn't fitting, she would join the prey Rosalie and Heidi herded into the "banquet" hall, and no one but us would be wiser to the fate of Gianna Fassati.
My own induction into the Volturi ranks was purely involuntary; my stay in Italy gone tragically awry. It was on a visit to Volterra, on St. Marcus's Day, in the middle of my twentieth year when the cab I was in crashed.
After that, the last memory of my human life was the pain of the venom searing my veins.
Even though my human memories were part of my irretrievable past, I clung on to them with the intensity of a toddler clinging on to her stuffed bunny. I wanted to remember my parents—my childish, adorable mother despairing over her latest misadventure; my quiet, retiring father who terrified any boy who dared to ask me out. I wanted to remember how happy they had been for me when I had got into Julliard's exclusive piano course, how proud they were when I had been granted a scholarship in an affiliated college in Rome.
Suddenly a fierce barb of envy pierced me, of stupid Gianna who would gladly slash her wrists if it would grant her immortality. What did she know of leaving ones' family behind forever for living in a mire filled with spiteful, backstabbing vipers? Did she really want to be one of the red-eyed monsters who tore open the necks of humans and drained them dry?
My inner monologue stopped abruptly when I reached my destination.
Many flights above the lobby were the location of our quarters. Very luxurious ones they were, but as the youngest additions to the Volturi, I had to share with Rosalie and Jasper, the resident experts on dealing with a bloodthirsty newborn—which I most certainly was back then.
Four years after my change, I was as disciplined as Heidi or Rose—who spent extended periods of time in close proximity with humans—but since Aro could not read my mind, I wasn't to be trusted. I had to be supervised by someone who did have some inkling about my emotional reactions. Jasper's talent was among the few that managed to affect me.
Despite—or probably due to—the fact that he and his sister were basically babysitting an extremely volatile and furious newborn who wanted nothing than to lash out the very ones who had saved her, the three of us formed a strong bond. I was surprised by how well I managed to fit into Rosalie's and Jasper's life, since as time went on, I found out that vampires, even this extremely united coven, were very solitary and distrustful creatures who didn't take well to newcomers.
There were exceptions, though, besides Rose and Jasper. Which is why I wasn't standing outside my own door, but outside Chelsea's.
I knocked once on the carved ebony door and entered the room without waiting for a reply.
The room that I stepped into had no marble, and I welcomed its absence. The floor was instead covered with pale wood, interlocked panels set an intriguing jigsaw that spanned the entire floor. The pale blue tones of the walls exuded soothing vibes, and upon them hung a few of Afton's more inspired abstracts. The whole room was so unlike Rose's, whose taste leaned towards morbid shades like blood red. Add to that Jasper's werewolf pelts mounted on the walls—well, Chelsea's room, in contrast to that was a veritable haven.
Chelsea's ash-blond head was bent over a thick volume that she held cradled in her hands carefully to keep the spine from splitting, and I instantly recognized the familiar illustration. Why had she borrowed Jasper's copy of the Mahabharata?
She was so engrossed in the epic poem that only when I cleared my throat—very loudly—did she bother to acknowledge my presence.
I took in her irritated face and immediately had second thoughts. It wasn't that I didn't trust her. Her talent, stripping away and binding loyalties was her way of keeping the guard together, and not at each others' throats, could have also have left me friendless and alone.
In our hierarchy, she stood as many ranks above me as a major did in relation to a private. But unlike Jane, who took immense glee in exerting her authority, Chelsea never flaunted her exalted status around me. Maybe it was the fact that her didn't affect me in the slightest.
A strange reason for friendship, but I wasn't complaining. It was the same thing that brought me closer to Rosalie—and also the same reason why Jane hated me.
But did I want to drag someone else into this already tangled web of intrigue and deceit? I would not only implicate her, but her mate, Afton. But as a friend of Rosalie and Jasper, I would want to know too, if our positions had been reversed.
As I deliberated, her gaze grew even more annoyed. With a huff, she rolled her eyes and began to open the book again.
"Jasper," I blurted out. Her head popped back up, her face frozen into shock. Then she exploded into action.
"He's returned then?" she snapped, dropping the book on a table. "Well, shouldn't you have told me earlier, Bella? Making Aro wait…not the best course of action." While she had been saying this, she had gone in one of the inner rooms and come out, haphazardly pulling on her dark grey robes over her street clothes.
"No! Don't go anywhere!" I finally got in, breaking all activity. She stared at me and slumped into the sofa.
"Then what?"
I swallowed and gave her the condensed version of the whole sorry saga.
By the time I had finished, her expression was a mix of shock and awe. The front of her robes hung open, the fastenings momentarily forgotten.
"What really bugs me is that I don't even know what the mission was in the first place. Caius's tantrums flare up with depressing regularity, but Aro…" I shuddered, remembering the viciousness of his anger. " I thought you said you've never seen him lose control, ever…what could have happened?" I looked at her desperately, hoping for answers. Surely she knew…
Chelsea chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "It would be completely typical of the old bastards," she said, finally. "Centuries of virtual omniscience and unchallenged authority has made them—especially Aro—disgustingly complacent, so what's happened now has really upset the apple-cart, so to speak." She looked strangely pleased.
I am going to completely ignore that miserable attempt to change the topic, I thought.
"That didn't really answer the question."
Chelsea's stare grew expressionless. "You know full well that if you don't know, then you're not supposed to know," she shot back.
"I do want to know," I stated, more than asked. It wasn't a request. I wouldn't endanger her at the cost of my curiosity, though my questions burned within me, demanding answers.
She wrung her hands nervously. The last time Aro caught one of the guards giving out classified information, Jane had a field day punishing them. That creepy little monster had a sadistic streak the size of the Grand Canyon, and if I could sleep, I would have had enough nightmares to leave me sleepless for a month.
I shuddered at the memory of Yuri rolling around on the floor, yelling about the claws shredding his insides to pieces. Jane's power to simulate any kind of pain and inflict it mercilessly was seriously unnerving.
Chelsea came to a decision abruptly.
"Well, if you can manage to keep your mouth shut…" She gave me a threatening look. "Since Aro cannot touch your mind, and will not touch my hand, we should be safe."
"Why won't—"
"Another time, Bella," Chelsea interrupted. "Aro got some very interesting information from a certain vampire called Peter when he came to visit Jasper."
A picture of an extremely tall, lanky vampire with white-blond hair darted into my mind. He had come to Volterra, with his mate Charlotte.
"Well, when he went to greet Aro, he shook his hand."
I whistled through my teeth. He had unwittingly granted Aro access to his entire life history.
"Aro was very excited over some of his memories. It involved a certain coven based in the United States. Their leader knows Aro well—he spent a few decades in the seventeenth century here before he left here. Carlisle Cullen is the name he went by then—he started using it again in the last few years."
I waited with trepidation for her to continue. The only thing that excited Aro was power. Oh, and the prospect of getting more power. Finding a long-lost friend would never elicit that kind of reaction from him.
"This Carlisle is strange. Unlike the rest of us immortals, he doesn't kill humans for food. He drinks animal blood." She made a moue of distaste.
"Ew."
"I know. Anyway, over the last century, he has been forming a coven of vampires who preach pacifism and non-violence towards humans just like him. That wouldn't normally be a problem with Aro—he always liked Carlisle—but there are some very talented individuals in his coven whom Aro would gladly give half the guard to get his hands on. One of them can actually see the future. From what Aro was raving about, she—her name is Alice—can accurately predict everything from the weather to the stock market." She let the statement sink in.
"Even though Carlisle is an eternal pacifist, Aro will not stand that he has something that he covets. It is somewhat like how it is in that," her head nodded towards the Mahabharata sitting on the table. "What man of mettle in this world will have patience when his rivals prosper?" she quoted from memory.
"Envy is one of the driving forces in the poem, and the same goes for Aro." She shook her head in disgust. "Although he has an undefeatable guard, he worries most that someone will rise up to unseat him. When he ordered us to destroy the Romanian coven, when we battled across southern United States, it wasn't just to 'protect' us from exposure: it was to quell all those who were ambitious. He fears that more than anything." Her voice grew grave.
"That is why Jasper's situation so complicated. Not only has he deprived of Aro of his would-be prize jewel, he has started something that could balloon into a real problem. For himself."
What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Jasper!
I felt like hitting my head against the wall, but I didn't feel like leaving divots in Chelsea's nice blue room.
"So…moving on," Chelsea continued calmly, as if she hadn't just been dropping bombs on me like the Luftwaffe, "what's happened to Demetri…have you ever witnessed the like of it before?"
"No," I answered emphatically. It wasn't something I would forget easily.
"Of course you have!" Chelsea urged. "Think."
I stared back at her, beyond confused. I'd never seen the like before, vampire acting like he lost more brain cells than he could afford to. We've never had mentally challenged individuals among vampires like the humans did. When did I see humans acting like Demetri, anyway?
The answer came back faster than Google on its best day, in all its in high-definition, Technicolour glory.
Shrieks echoed around from all sides as we surrounded the humans…they ran in all directions like chickens about to be slaughtered …panicking…screaming as they died…
And at the side, another set of humans stood stupidly in one place, just watching the bloodbath with horrified eyes, but acting they were incapable of movement. Like they were struck dumb.
Only Rosalie's prey acted like this.
Aro words, Never mind tracking—stringing simple words in a sentence may prove far too taxing for him, floated through my feverishly working brain.
Rosalie.
Oh my God.
"So Rosalie wiped Demetri's mind?" I shrieked. "I thought her power only worked on humans!"
"I thought so too," Chelsea answered, her forehead knotting into a frown. "But the result is the same. She had to bend his will to wipe his memory, and doing so, she broke his mind. She must have found him while she was fishing today, before he could come back and inform Aro and Caius."
My throat felt tight, and forcing words out of it was a struggle.
"So this means that..."
"…she's gone to join Jasper…" she finished.
Grief overwhelmed me. "Why does it feel that all my friends are abandoning me? They've just signed their death warrant."
She tilted her head to the side. "How so? Now that Demetri is gone, they have the whole world to hide in. And if that foresighted female is with them, then they'll be able to see when Aro sends in the cavalry, so they'll always be able to run. If they want to."
"Lucky them, then," I muttered, still feeling discarded and forgotten. Freedom, without spies and enemies around them, surrounded by peace-loving, animal-blood-drinking vampires…I was abruptly jealous.
"Why only lucky them? It could be lucky you too, you know..." Chelsea said carefully, looking away from me.
I stared at her, uncomprehending for exactly a quarter of a second. Then it clicked.
"You mean I could just waltz out? Just like that? Just follow them anywhere...without knowing where they are...without a passport, no identification...nothing..." my voice trailed off into incredulous splutters.
Chelsea shrugged. "Or you could stay, and face Aro's wrath. Not to mention Caius's. Though Jane can't touch you, I needn't point out Caius's modus operandi when it comes to dealing with those whom he considers traitors."
I had a brief image of myself kneeling on that cracked marble floor, pinioned into immobility by Corin and Felix, while Aro glided towards me, hands extended to grip my....
I roused myself from my morbid daydream. "That's ridiculous and you know it! I knew nothing of the mission to start with, so that would be a complete waste of time---"
The door burst open—literally. The door was blasted from its frame, chunks and splinters of wood whizzing past us and embedding themselves into the nice blue walls I had hesitated to mark earlier.
In what used to be the doorway, Jane stood, smiling that cherub-sweet smile, the one she invariably wore before she attacked.
Clearly, she wasn't here to pay to us a social call.
As I stared stupidly at her, the shadows coalesced by her side separated into two twin hulking forms. Felix and Corin.
Three against two? Totally not fair.
To show how unfair I thought those odds were, I turned and jumped out of Chelsea's window. The glass put up a token resistance, and it shivered into a million pieces with a melodic tinkling as I smashed through it and hurtled towards the ground, pale grey robes blooming parachute-style as I fell.
Sorry, Chelsea. I hope Aro doesn't kill you, and that you'll get the chance to redecorate eventually. I'll miss you.
A/N : The Mahabharata is an Sanskrit epic poem spanning around 100,000 verses. The Hindus' holy book, the Bhagvad Gita, comprises of one of its volumes. Mahabharata in the same league as The Illiad and Odyssey, but only much, much longer :-)