A/N: Fifty-seven years into the future, the immortals have been ousted and now have to live harmoniously with humanity. However, Jasper is the only one who sees how the seams of immortality aren't quite woven into mortals. Everything is a lie.
Edward will not be a major character in this fic, which is the last of the Illumination Trilogy. Enjoy =D
NOTE: Anthesphoria is the name of an ancient festival given for Persephone
Anthesphoria
"As she was gathering flowers with her playmates in a meadow, the earth opened and Pluto, god of the dead, appeared and carried her off to be his queen in the world below…."
-An account of Persephone's abduction
Queen Isabella sat on a throne made of spun silver, her voluminous skirts lying limp around her. She changed – even the least observant would notice her cold, removed expression, the spawn of her still recent status of regality. At her arm, King Edward stood, looking queer and humane besides her, tawny-green eyes observing the fire pit in the middle of the room. His profile remained emotionless and untouched, like his queen, frozen in its Patrician sense of authority. However, his emotions were in flux, a flux only I could see, and feel, and taste.
Tendrils of smoke filled the room, smelling faintly of rosemary and ocean water. Patricia tended the flames with her "magic," building them to a height as unnatural as its albino color, the same hue as Alice's alabaster skin. Meanwhile, the dark Viatrix, Elesmeera's ex-high priestess, chanted solemnly in Latin, her voice slipping over constants and vowels with a slick tongue, as if to create a verbal dance. I was lulled by it, nonchalantly tapping fingers against my thigh in time to the satanic hymn.
I was told that Viatrix was praying for all those lost fifty-seven years ago in the Immortal War. She was negotiating with whichever satanic goddess whom overlooked the "Underworld" to soothe their souls and to give them a chance of reincarnation as well as damn all those who worked against our cause. It was, however, more likely that Bella enlisted Viatrix to "soothe" the elder sirens that looked down upon their new Queen as being naïve by keeping the old rituals very much alive in her reign. To keep face, she told all those who listened that the yearly ritual was to bring closure to those who lost loved ones and to remind all others what we had to give in order to gain.
It is such a failure and a pity. It doesn't bring me any closer to resurrecting Alice than I was fifty-seven years ago; neither could this ceremony remind me what has never been forgotten.
It's selfish of me to think solely of my own desires, of my own loss; but how could I possibly not? I lost the one think that had kept me into this world, the one person who bound me to Earth with her sanity and stability. She was my angel, my goddess of light, who led me out of madness and desperation and into paradise. I have always wondered how long I'd be able to keep her tethered from God. Viatrix spoke about destiny, how each of the dead followed their path in order to rid the world of Elesmeera. It was Alice's destiny for Elesmeera to break the chains I worked diligently upon. I couldn't console myself with the fact my angel was where she belonged. I'm far too selfish.
The ritual ended with a collective exhale. Bella lifted her long skirts and stepped to the flame. She ran her fingers tenderly through the fire, extinguishing them with a mere internal wish. She flashed a well-coveted smile across the small group of important officials and her revered council before sweeping out of the large doors, arm locked in Edward's while Alec held her train.
The sadness that once held the now exiting group captive was promptly alleviated. They had turned their thoughts to the following midnight galas, which were another half of the mourning ceremonies; the celebration (personally, I thought it a ridiculous idea of Gabriel's to exercise Bella's superiority and wealth). I felt their anxiety and excitement barrel through me – I tried not to let their joy affect me, but the volumes of it caused a slow, tepid smirk to grace my face.
"Brother," Rosalie murmured, voice as solemn as her emotions. She was my sole confident, seeing as her no-nonsense attitude caused her to become as much of a pariah as I have. I read sympathy in her eyes before she could speak it and nodded, clenching her shoulder in response.
"Will we see you tonight?" Emmett asked hesitantly; he knew he was tiptoeing around eggshells. Carlisle shot him a blank glare, shaking his head as if slightly disappointed in his obvious denseness. They regard me with too much fragility. I am a mere conductor of other's emotions, collecting them and redirecting them; mine are too far underneath iron-constructed walls to actually be hurt by simplistic inquiries.
"I just might if I don't manage a conversation with my connections in Romania before the day ends."
"How is Romania going?" Esme asked, shooting his husband a quick look.
"It would have been better if you listened to my suggestion in placing Felix in charge of the mission rather than Jacob," I snarled, shooting Bella a hate filled glare to her shoulder blades. As if she felt my eyes upon her, she heightened her chin slightly in acknowledgment. More likely, she heard my thoughts.
"Felix is untrustworthy," Emmett said plainly. "He is too close to Marcus."
"I remember that clearly. I also remember that Marcus has done nothing nefarious against Isabella." I pinched the bridge of my nose and pulled away from them internally as well as externally; they see things too black and white.
"Why don't you relax?" Rosalie asked quietly, reaching out to me with her ocher eyes. For a moment, her belligerence slipped and I was staring into her soul, the sweetness she hid. "Demetri has been taking care of your office the last week to afford you time for yourself. You worry too much."
Bella glanced upon me then, a quick movement and a flash of her overpowering eyes. They were full of sadness. Her words in my head were quiet and nearly fooled me into thinking it was my own conscience speaking. You should take her advice, Jasper. In fifty-seven years, the pain of Alice's death has not been alleviated, but has instead worn you. I know that you miss her.
I scowled, not sure if it was meant for Rosalie's caring or Bella's fear or Alice for leaving me. I ignored Bella's words in my head, flipping my hand rudely at the family in excusal to leave.
A mental sigh wafted through my head like a gentle breeze. I've been trying to find a way, Jasper, I promised. You might not remember, but I loved her like a sister.
Save me the empty promises Bella, I shot back at her, curving my route towards the middle of the castle, which contained the garden I had taken on as a side project a couple months ago. Although I have never mentioned dedication, it was a wide known and approved idea that it was dedicated to Heidi. I let the rumor grow; I wasn't about to break their hearts by informing them all that I took on the project masochistically. I could tend freesia and roses and daffodils to life, but could not revive my wife.
Truth is a coveted prospect in Volterra because it is such a despised, overlooked, and greatly underestimated virtue. Truth could ruin Gabriel, could ruin Bella, could possibly ruin the fragile relationship between humans and immortals as quickly as it could heal the racism bred by fear and misunderstanding, which is why Marcus wraps himself in his cocoons of his truth outside of Volterra's walls, choosing only to reveal the fabrics with a select few. Truth is a double-edged sword that I wield Volterra on my lonesome. They give into facades too quickly; they are too blind and too happy swallowing the lies.
A light flickered at the end of the hallway; the doors were ajar, letting in rivets of Italian sunshine. In this polished, perfect castle, not one tile was left with a speck of dirt – not one eyebrow unsymmetrical to its mate. I was careful to follow this unspoken rule and closed the door to the garden each time I left, leaving the tiles scrupulously clean of the soil I might have accidentally tracked in. This meant there was an intruder – no soul besides mine or Bella's was allowed into my haven until I finished each exhibit.
"I did not mean to leave the door open," a smoky, feminine voice drawled; there was no apology in her deep notes. She was sitting on the marble bench I carved by hand across from one of the rose exhibits, ruby eyes sparkling in the sunlight. Her lips, like the roses she was glaring nonchalantly at, matched the hue of her crimson curls. "I am Cora."
"Ah," I said uninterested in what her name was, or where she came from. I opened my mouth to begin the riot act on coming into Isabella's off limits and personal wing of the Volterra land when she interrupted me.
"You are?"
"Jasper," I grunted in my masculinity. She murmured the name, rolling it around on her tongue as if to taste the word. She turned felinely onto her back, lolling her head off the bench, curls caressing the ground.
"A councilman." It wasn't a question, just a breath of noise as if trying to recall a certain memory.
"Yes, a councilman," I agreed with her, glad my diplomatic tendencies allowed a sense of calm. I wouldn't lose my temper on a rebellious fraction. "Perhaps you are new here-"
"I am," she interjected.
"But you should have been briefed on what is acceptable and what is not by now. You are not allowed into this wing of the castle nor my private areas."
She grinned. "I don't care."
I was careful to let my infuriation to remain a mere tenseness in my shoulders. My voice was conversational. "I believe you will care when you are arrested and on trial for suspicious intent, ignorance of common rule, and insolence against a superior. Now scat before I alert the guard we have yet another intruder on the anniversary of the war…they will not be sympathetic."
Her brows furrowed into a deep V as she considered it for a moment, but she was barely concerned. She stood in one fluid movement, like a raindrop meeting a river. A quick step brought us centimeters apart. Finally, she met my eyes as she spoke. "I don't care."
She exhaled and I tasted her honeyed breath. Her visage closer, I could see that her eyes weren't crimson, but more wine with all of the addiction but none of the sweetness. And despite her strangeness and the fact she was breaking several laws at once, I could sense no malice in her level gaze - simply friendly competition.
"You're defying my power," I said evenly.
"I'm exercising them," she said, placing a hand on my chest, fingers spreading like spider legs. I flicked her hand away like the mere bug, registering the exasperation that flitted temporarily across her eyes.
"What are your intentions?"
She said the words as if I should have known. "I seek protection from Councilman Jasper and am offering my allegiance."
I stiffened, straightening myself in my mock-nobility as if to tower over her. I was sorely disappointed when I realized we were nose to nose. "I seek no allegiance from a convict, Miss Cora, nor grant personal protection. I will happily escort you back to your dorm if you have lost your way, but I am not fending off whatever power you've angered."
Her lips inclined to my ear and she whispered, "What if I have something to offer you in return?"
"I am not interested in what's between your legs, siren," I spat, stepping away. "If you remain here after I leave, I am most certain you will be incarcerated."
The playfulness that once plagued her face melted. She stepped away, heels an enraged staccato on the cobblestones; she looked back over her shoulder to watch me watch her retreat. She brought her fingers to her lips, ran a finger across her teeth. I smelled it before I could actually see it - blood. It scented the air in its seductive floral-copper. It dripped down her slender wrist, staining her white shirt garnet. I was enthralled. My years of restraint kept me immobile, but didn't let the sick fantasies drift across my minds eye in rapid fire - of placing my lips to her throat.
She grinned when she saw my expression, but turned away. She dropped onto her haunches in front of a browning rose and fed the dying bloom her blood. For a moment, it lifted its head and bloomed, the tanned petals turning once more to its immaculate white color. Her face was full and gloating, her claret eyes sparkling.
"Reevaluate what I possess to offer you," she said archly before disappearing.
ELECTRIC SHOCK
Bella
I ran my hands on Alice's dresses, trying desperately to caress each fabric as they slipped through my fingers like sand. The sounds were muffled yet comforting; the crinkle of tulle petticoats, crushed velvet and darling silk, sweet summer cotton…. My senses were trying desperately to find Alice in these beautiful remains, but it was hopeless; she was beyond me now, in a world I no longer am connected to.
I was failing Jasper, and I knew I would continue to fail. My naivety in promising him a way to resurrect Alice from mere memories is undeniably stupid and regrettable. However, I'm more saddened by the fact I'm failing his wife, my best friend. I've given Jasper too much space to drown. I hear his mind; I taste his guilt. The memory thrums violently in the back of his head, a motivation and a disparagement.
He masks it well. However, I'm not ignorant. I know what boils underneath. I see the masochism in his garden, the sadism in his diplomatic works, the way he regards himself as a realist when he's looking through goggles of self-pity and the selfishness he acknowledges but ignores.
I know why he moved his room farther away from the rest of us and into the dungeons, where it is forever dark and gloomy, where some cobwebs have developed if you a re observant to look. He occasionally experiments with the torture devices I have begged Gabriel to allow riddance of, because I would never resort to such medieval forms of justice. Either it's because Jasper is immortal, or because he is single-handedly attempting to operate machinery that requires two men, he never gets the results he seeks. It doesn't stop him from trying.
I glanced around his desolate room, feeling as if I was penetrating Jasper's inner sanctum. It left a film of guilt on my skin, an untouchable itch, but I shook it off glancing at the single self nailed into the wall. A small, silver frame overlooked Jasper's cold bed. It was of Alice. She was lounging, sparkling from the sunlight that peeked through the window. She was smiling madly, her one hand woven through her inky black hair, eyes dreamy and lidded as if they had just made love. The other hand was reaching out for the lover taking her photo, the rings on her fingers sparkling new. I knew that if I glanced over my shoulder, I would find the same lavender sheets stretched over the mattress, unwrinkled and pristine.
"Why are you here?" Jasper demanded. He was leaning in the doorway, his hair windswept – he had been running. He had a drink, I also noted from the pink tint in his cheeks and the lightness of his eyes.
I bit my lip. "I wanted to feel closer to her."
"I understand that," he said stoically, his face austere and empty like the room. Nevertheless, something flickered underneath, lighting him from the inside out. "Have you met a fraction named Cora?"
"Cora?" I questioned blankly, sitting down on Jasper's perfectly made bed. He winced as if I had slapped him. "You know that I no longer reside over the entrance ceremonies for the new guards; it has fallen to Emmett. He would know better than I."
His lips tightened, his eyes darkened. "I must have forgotten, but you reside over the lists of their gifts, yes? Has anything alarmed you as of late?"
I shook my head, eyes narrowing suspiciously. The ability to pluck the answers from his head like Eden's apple tempted me, yet I resisted. I would gain no closeness from him by simply ravaging his mind. "Jasper, what has occurred?"
"Nothing? Nothing alarmed you?" he asked again, ignoring my questions. His voice was an octave higher in usual - he was frustrated, enthralled, confused...
I shifted through memories, trying to concentrate on the name, trying to view a visual. The name rang no bells. "I really don't remember a Cora or a surprising gift on the lists other than a vampire who can supposedly levitate islands with mere whim. But why have you taken an interest on her?" A flutter began in my throat; was Jasper suddenly interested in another woman?
"Don't get your hopes up," he scowled at me, using his gift to read through my emotions easily. "Cora is nothing more than an annoyance to me, and there is certainly no romanticism in that."
"However she incites more passion in you than I have seen for years," I argued. "What is it about her? Has she wronged you somehow?"
"She was an insolent bitch," he finally answered. He turned promptly on his heel and stalked out of the door, leaving me exasperated.
ELECTRIC SHOCK
Jasper
Bella kept one eye on Edward and the guests, another on the guards, and her mind solely on mine in curiosity as she danced, the blue skirts of her dress twirling at her calves. Watching them sparkle in the light reminded me of when Alice wore a dress like that when we were first together, universes ago.
She had looked so breathtaking, so innocent, yet the look in her shifty eyes were opposite in many ways. I remembered how she dragged a nail down her chest, welling blood and venom, an elixir and a poison, and I made love to her with the taste of her immortality on my lips, shifting me into a world of gray; right was wrong and wrong was deliciously right. She held me then, brushed her fingers through my hair, down my neck. "My life is yours now as yours is mine," she said happily - not solemnly, not passionately, yet I knew how that one act had changed the course of my life. We married not too long after....
I dragged myself out of memories, and dragged my body to the bar. A pretty vampire-barista smiled flirtatiously as she poured me a goblet of once frozen blood. I stared into it; it was purplish-red in color, much like Cora's claret eyes. I was struck with another perplexing matter that rivaled the Romanian matter in importance and confusion; who was this girl? What was the extent of her power? Why was she seeking me?
"Our worshipful Isabella looks quite beautiful tonight, does she not?" Gabriel asked me, thrusting me from reverie. "That dress is simply breathtaking."
I ignored his instigating. "When will you come clean on your mindreading?"
"When I gain the ability," he responded with a sly grin. "I see you have met Cora. She's a valuable little doll, isn't she?"
"She's a possibility, an empty promise and an insolent child," I responded shortly, glaring at him. I didn't dare question if he had already met her - he most likely had. The old man, despite being hated, made sure to slink himself into conversations, minds, and places seeking information that I dare not. He was a rat with a superiority-complex and the knowledge to back it up. In short, I hated him.
Gabriel's calculating silver eyes were even smiling. "Oh Orpheus, you have found the Persephone to free your lover Eurydice! However, can you sing a song beautiful enough to woo her? That is the challenge."
"I am not a fool," I said gently. "I will not play Orpheus in your sick tragedy; there are too many lines to run in order to lose my Alice once again."
"However," Gabriel said, taking a sip of his blood-laced wine, "I know you Jasper; you are careful. You would not commit such an egregious mistake as Orpheus."
I glared at him. "I'm not going to be manipulated by you, Gabriel, for your amusement and satisfaction. I'm not as dense as you believe. You are a scheming liar."
"I am also a widower," he reminded me lightly. This was his second way to argue, to play on my nonexistent emotions. "I have outlived my lover by several millenniums not simply half a century. I would once have done anything to bring her back to me. Arrogantly, cynically, you push away an option to resurrect your love in fear of hurting yourself. It's selfish."
"Selfish? Is evicting an angel from the arms of her God selfish?" I shot back at him. "Is taking Alice away from eternal peace into a world full of lies and schemers and facades selfish?"
"But do you truly believe that she is with a merciful God?" Gabriel asked me, his face calculating, and his face back to the cruel, cold one I remember the most. "I know that you question daily the existence of a God in general and the sympathy he has for our kind. You may be saving her from an eternal damnation in hell."
"I don't know what I believe, Gabriel, but I can assure you that I do not believe some little twit can make all my wild dreams come true. And I believe that your interest is not merely conversational."
His lips curled suddenly into a smile and he chivalrously stood, evicting the seat for Patricia who immediately gravitated towards me as if by magnetic force.
"Having fun?" I asked her. It was evident that she wasn't enthralled by party; she seemed antsy, bored, and lonely. She had propped her chin on her palm, leaning into the bar. She graciously demanded a B-positive and Dolcetto before finally answering my question.
"I'm having the time of my life. You know that they sent Jacob to Bucharest to speak to the Prime Minister."
I bristled. "I am still angered and slightly shocked that Isabella denied Felix."
"They're still reeling over Marcus's obvious disapproval of the crown and his role as spymaster and the recent information about Felix's temporary position as one of his agents," she said quickly, taking a long slopping drink of her B-Dolcetto. "I think it's foolish, but my I'm obviously biased, having known the ex-Volturi slaves and with Jake."
I stared out at the frolicking crowd, considering how and where I would have to assassinate Bella because of her grievous mistake. It was then I noticed a flash of crimson curls and inquisitive claret eyes. I followed her waltz with a young off-duty guard, watching the flash of her vivid, leaf-green dress whirl around her with each spin.
"She's pretty," Patricia said quietly.
Cora's sleek figure was now in the arms of Felix, who winked our way.
"Yes, a rancid girl indeed." I pulled my eyes away, drowning them in my goblet.
"What'd she do to you?"
"She's an infuriating monster," I said automatically, even though it sounded quite foolish and childish. "Not only did she traipse into private grounds, she questioned my authority and propositioned me."
Patricia watched Cora carefully. "She doesn't seem despicable. Maybe she likes you."
I hissed at her. "I have battled many a foolish crush in all of my years; I know what they look like, Patricia. And save me the emotional blather. She's not some love struck teenager, she's an ambitious creature trying to use me as a stepping stone."
"Oh?" Although I met her only once, I knew the voice that ghosted along my neck from rolling around each word she spoke, trying to decode them. "Please continue."
I met her claret eyes and noticed amusement glittering in her irises.
"Eavesdropping is certainly impolite," I scolded her suddenly, my voice even and icy.
Cora considered that, smiling daintily at Patricia. "Could you excuse us for a moment?"
"Sure," Patricia said, alarmed that this woman was bold enough to approach me. She walked away and found herself flanked by Demetri and Felix immediately.
"What is it?" I demanded from Cora, lowering my voice. "What do you want from me?"
She slithered her arms around my neck, walking audaciously in the part of my legs on the stool. Her touch had so much heat, like sunshine, that I allowed myself to tolerate it.
Her smile was pleased when she stated, "You were watching me. I could feel the holes you burned in my spine"
"I won't lie and say I'm not puzzled by you," I said quietly, carefully pulling her arms from my neck. She locked them across her breast in response.
"I want a dance."
I want Alice but I'm not getting her, I thought internally, but instead I made a decision. I was going to play her game temporarily, figure her out. I took her hand and led her to the outskirts of the merry dancers, rattling off a few indecent swears in my mind, cursing curiosity. Edward must have heard my shouts because he shot an incredulous look my way.
I grasped her waist and small, gloved hand, and mistakenly assumed the male lead. We barely escaped from stepping on one another's feet before finding a balance. Her fluidity forced me to find an internal grace while my steps forced her to give trust.
She glanced up at me from under her long, dark frame of lashes, the cogwheels churning in her head visibly. "You are as cold as they say."
I ignored her words, focusing on the accent. I couldn't narrow it. It wasn't Italian, or even European to my American ears. Her proud, Grecian nose sharpened her features; there was little softness - even her lips, which were pliable and with a full Cupid's bow seemed marble and poisonous. She was upperclasswoman once, I decided by the fluidity of her waltz and tight posture. My physiognomy has never been on par, however; perhaps its my ignorant American background that stripped me of otherworldly abilities of assumption by mere facial features.
Numbly, I responded, "I have read the magazine articles."
"It allured me to come to Volterra."
I laughed at her. "And what? Find the man who is written facetiously on paper?"
Cora considered that then smiled tenderly. "No, because you are lacking."
"And you're assuming you can fix that?" I mumbled mostly to myself, but she laughed, the sound like the plucking of a harp; full and melodic. I shrunk away.
"I'm hoping."
"And how exactly do you plan on doing such?"
Sudden nervousness had her eyes flick away from mine. She tried to play it off, but I saw it – the crack in her façade. "I can't say here." In a more hush tone, she whispered, "Will you escort me to a more private area we may be able to speak?"
My breath was poised at the edge of a cliff. I felt adrenaline where I shouldn't. I knew it was foolish of me to think she was going to tell me the truth, but I was hoping. I was ready to read through her.
However, my breath left me when I felt the panic of thousands overwhelming my body. Cora noticed the change immediately, stopping midtwirl to meet my eyes. They flickered away to the source and panic suddenly filled her spine; Bella was lying unconscious on the floor, blood seeping into the crystalline tiles.