Things between Maria and me only grew more tense over the next couple of weeks. I was careful not to bring up the issue of Juan again, and was even more careful not to spend any time alone with him, or delegate anything to him, but the damage had been done. I felt Maria watching me with a growing suspicion. She had never felt this way toward me when I had Peter for my second, or before his creation, not seriously. But things were different now. I had committed treason since then, according to her reckoning, and Maria lived and breathed treason. Her suspicion began to burn with malice.
She became more involved with the newborns. She sent me out alone to fetch blood more often, while she stayed back filling my soldiers' minds with lies I could only guess at. Their feelings toward me began to shift, souring with fear and mistrust. I fully expected her to kill Juan at any moment, but she didn't. Possibly because she felt she could no longer trust me to back her up when she made the call.
Could she?
It wasn't as though the possibility hadn't crossed my mind. It had, often. There were times when I wanted, so badly, to kill Maria for bringing me into this life. Assassinations weren't common, at least not in our local corner of the Wars, but they weren't unheard of either. El Serpiente had done it. But he had done it for ambition, driven by his own thirst to dominate. I honestly didn't feel that same drive. Even back in the beginning, when I was flushed with blood and victory and Maria's approval, I had never lusted for the command itself. Decades later, I still took some weary pride in our victories, and there was still a part of me that enjoyed training my army to be the best that they could… but I felt no need for more. I had never wanted to kill Maria just so I could usurp her. Truth be told, I didn't want to kill her at all, not really. Because despite everything, I didn't actually hate Maria… not enough for that, anyway. I understood all too well the desperation that drove her to create me, to keep killing… to avenge her mate's death. I felt it every day. I wished I didn't understand, but I did. I had never personally known that terminal illness that was love in our world, but my gift and my time with Maria made it painfully obvious what losing a mate did to a person. Try as I might, I couldn't hate her for the way she felt. Or maybe it was just my stubborn refusal to lose that last shred of honor I had left- because Maria was wrong. I hadn't committed treason. I had yet to cross that line.
But if she pushed me…
It wasn't as though it would be impossible. If I acted now, I might still have the support of the others, especially with my gift to help matters. And I truly didn't even need their support. Maria was an excellent fighter, but she was no match for me. All I needed was thirty seconds alone with her.
And what if I did kill her? What then? I didn't have a personal vendetta against Arizona, or anyone. I had enemies, to be sure, but they were just opponents. Faces across the battlefield… faces belonging to men and women who hadn't asked for this life any more than I had. At least Maria had her vendetta- she had that purpose driving her. Maybe that was what it took to lead for as long as she had: a white-hot fire of hate, always fueled and always fresh. I didn't have that. I would do things differently, to be sure, but for what? To keep killing so that I could survive, so that I could keep killing, so that I could survive? And yet, I had to survive, and I would have to seize command, because that was the only way to keep the blood flowing.
And I needed blood.
.
.
.
It was less than three weeks after the battle at the canyon that Maria took Juan into her bed. That was when I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt: she was going to kill me. It might be a matter of days or months, but it was coming. She had finally decided that keeping me, and the tactical advantage that I brought her, wasn't worth the risk anymore. I felt her malice growing daily now, hardened with determination. She no longer turned her back to me, and so I never turned mine to hers. We hardly spoke anymore, not even to argue.
"Patrol," she ordered one night, pointing at me and waving her hand off toward our northern bloodfields, which just edged up into Texas. Her anxiety was high… too high, for something as trivial as a patrol. I didn't answer right away, and for a few seconds we just looked at each other in wordless challenge.
"I'd like to take three," I said carefully, waiting to see how she would react. Her anger burned, but not before her anxiety spiked even higher. She nodded her permission without further argument- all the evidence I needed that the tension between us had reached the point of no return. I would not be caught alone again after this, and we both knew it.
I soon began to feel a new sense of doubt growing in Juan himself, whenever he looked at me. It wasn't enough for murder yet, but it would be before long. She was going to use him to do it, then. I had myself to thank for that, I supposed.
I no longer had any choice in the matter: I had to kill her before she could strike first. If I were to apply myself, to really use my gift and my silver tongue to its fullest potential, I was fairly sure I could turn the others fully against her. But I would not let her drive me to that final, deplorable act of mutiny.
I would do it alone. But that wasn't as simple as it had first seemed, even if I could manage it. I needed to prepare the others for the change in command, or I would have a mutiny on my hands immediately afterward. I began to subtly influence them in a new way, as often as I could. Loyalty itself was not an emotion, but I began infusing them with pride and trust whenever I spoke with them, and anger and mistrust when they were focused on Maria…. or on Juan. I hated that I had to turn against him now, too, but that was the game she had decided we would play. I hated that even in this she was calling the shots, but that was the way it had always been.
I only hoped that once Maria was taken care of, Juan wouldn't need to be next. I would need him, especially in those first few months without Maria. I didn't feel the same attachment to him as I had to Peter, but I was reluctant to end him. He had potential. And there was another problem, a big problem that I hadn't seriously considered until now: I couldn't create vampires. I couldn't even comprehend the possibility. Where did that leave me? I had already decided that I wouldn't be continuing Maria's policy of indiscriminately executing newborns at the year mark. But I would continue to lose newborns to battles, to desertion, to the occasional necessary execution … how would I replace them?
I supposed I could try taking prisoners in the next battle… but I was going to already have my hands full ensuring the loyalty of my own soldiers. Maybe the best way to ensure my own survival would be to desert, myself… to head straight into an enemy camp and offer my services. I had to admit, that idea soothed my pride. Maybe I'd go to Arizona, just to spite Maria… but it was likely I'd be torn apart before I could even make the offer. They knew me too well to risk trusting me. The same thing would happen with the Guatemalans. So that was out.
The whole thing was a disaster waiting to happen, and the more I thought about it, the bigger the disaster got. You had to be able to create vampires in order to lead. To command an army was to be a creator. I would just have to learn, I supposed. But even if I could eventually succeed, the prospect of all those failed attempts, and even the transformations themselves, was horrifying. I couldn't even imagine what it was going to feel like to be near those emotions. I stayed away from Maria's transformations for a reason. And I liked to think there was some scrap of decency left in me- it was one thing to end human lives to sustain myself, but I didn't like the idea of being the one to ruin those lives, to doom them to this existence just so they could serve me. I didn't like the idea of doing to someone else what Maria had done to me… what she was still doing to me. What she would keep doing to me long after her death. She had condemned me to an eternity of emotional pain and fruitless violence, all made worse by my relentless need for blood, which was also her doing.
And to think that I had ended up in Maria's path precisely because I was fighting a War that, at least in part, was being waged to protect the institution of slavery. I wasn't one to bother about meaningless abstracts like atonement, but if there was a debt to pay for that, wasn't eighty years of being a slave myself enough?
.
.
.
Another battle was looming. It had been three months now since the battle at the canyon, and El Serpiente had been busy. We had scouted a grand total of six new scents on our eastern border- he was cooking up something big. And earlier this week we had discovered their scent at least five miles inside our border, along with an entire cluster of human homes burned to the ground: a sure sign that they were poaching our blood. It was El Serpiente's way of throwing the proverbial glove on the ground, and Maria rose to the challenge eagerly… too eagerly. Her malice toward me was at a fever pitch now; even the newborns understood now that something bad was brewing. Maria was never one for subtlety.
"El Serpiente is growing in boldness… and in foolishness," she announced to everyone. "He should never have tipped his hand like this. He's outpaced himself, and this time it's going to cost him everything. I've waited a long time for this."
"You mean you'll be fighting in the battle as well?" Juan asked. My eyes narrowed as I felt his anxiety and guilt project toward me; I had a feeling he was reciting a line assigned to him. I didn't need to guess who the playwright was.
"I will," Maria said fiercely, her eyes blazing. Excitement stirred through the newborns, tainted by fear... especially in the case of the two new creations Maria had made last month. I had every expectation that they would need to be executed along with her.
"Wait," said Noah, "who'll be in charge during the fight?"
You could have heard a pin drop. I didn't think she had put Noah up to anything; his emotions gave nothing away, at least. And he had worshipped me ever since the canyon. But Maria couldn't have given herself a better opening if she'd tried. I felt everyone's eyes turn to me. If I played this wrong, I wouldn't see the sun set tonight, much less make it to the battle.
"Maria, obviously," I snapped, giving Noah a look that made him shrink two inches. I turned to Maria, doing my best to look dutiful and fierce all at once. "What's the plan?"
Maria droned on, but it didn't take a genius to figure out her intentions. I had passed this one test, but it didn't matter. I now saw my fatal mistake in telling her, years ago, that my gift was the least effective during battle. She was going to make sure I didn't walk away from this fight, one way or the other.
I was out of time.
.
.
.
Most of our battles were fought during thunderstorms. No one quite understood who the Volturi were- I had a vague image in my head of some kind of ancient vampire royalty who had once played an important role in the Wars, half myth and half ancient history. But the Law was clear, the only Law that governed the Wars: the humans were never, never to know about our kind. It was common sense, anyway. If the humans, so frail and soft and short-lived as individual prey, were to learn what truly went on in the wilderness surrounding their settlements, they would band together and make life difficult for us. It was doubtful they could kill us, at least not many of us, but the delicate balance of territories would easily be upset if we had to constantly be swatting away the humans' attacks. But common sense or not, it was the Law.
There were stories. Rumors of raids by the Volturi when the Law was broken: mass executions, entire human cities wiped off the face of the earth to prevent other humans from learning of the incident. Whole armies disappearing overnight. But there hadn't been any of these so-called raids in my lifetime, at least not nearby. I wondered if the Volturi were even real, or just a myth conjured up once upon a time: bedtime stories to keep young, rabid newborns in line. And if they were real, or had been real long ago, I wondered if they had something to do with the death of Maria's mate. She got strangely defensive and angry and even afraid when I had raised the issue a couple times, back before I had learned to keep my mouth shut about it.
But regardless, the Law was the Law. Anyone caught doing anything that might risk exposure was executed immediately, as a lesson for the others. So it was an unspoken rule, a code followed by all Coven Leaders, that battles were to be conducted in such a way as not to draw the humans' attention. This meant open hostilities were confined to the wilderness: vast deserts and canyons, densely forested areas, even sometimes out at sea. Darkness was a necessity, to hide the peculiar purple smoke that always signaled the conclusive end of a fight. Sometimes, as had happened at the canyon, the fire was even lit during a fight by some moronic soldier who didn't seem to mind permanently losing his own limbs. Thunderstorms provided the necessary noise to cover up the rock-on-rock clamor of battle, which could get incredibly loud. There were times when the weather just didn't cooperate, or when fighting broke out unplanned and dangerously close to human civilization, but as a rule that didn't happen often.
I could smell the electricity in the air this afternoon, could see an ominous smudge over on the western horizon; a storm was brewing, and that meant I had to do it tonight. Before tonight, if possible. The problem was that while Maria wasn't always the sharpest tool in the shed, she was no idiot. She'd be on high alert today, and besides, it would be impossible to get her alone. On the day before a planned battle we were always busy with patrols, heavily laying down our scent along our borders just in case our other enemies got it into their heads to take advantage of the situation. Maria was taking the others around on yet another run along the Gulf coast, and I had stolen away for a few minutes of peace. It was probably not a wise move- who knew what she was saying to the others right now- but I needed some space. I needed time to think.
I didn't know why I had put it off this long. Maybe a part of me- a very foolish part, I now saw- had been hoping for a peaceful resolution, because I really didn't want to do this. And it wasn't just because I didn't want the burden of command. I really didn't want to kill her. Whether it was the reluctant understanding my gift gave me, or those last shreds of honor and chivalry that stubbornly clung to my gut, or even some twisted, buried sense of affection for the woman I had spent decades trying to please… the bottom line was that I wasn't looking forward to this, not at all. And now I had waited too long. It would have to be done during the battle, most likely. She was probably preparing Juan to help her take me down during those dangerous moments of madness that marked the end stage of a victory. Which meant, naturally, that I would have to strike in the beginning of the fight. My enemies would briefly become my allies, keeping my army too busy to turn on me.
I wondered if I could quietly persuade one or two to act with me. I knew I could count on Noah, though he wasn't worth much. Manuel probably wouldn't take much convincing…
My nose twitched suddenly and my muscles tensed as I glanced around. A breeze was coming in from the northwest, and a vampire scent with it. We didn't have anyone up that way right now. I focused on the scent, what little I could catch of it. Maybe it would be good for a scout from Arizona to come sniffing around today; I could offer to spare his life in exchange for his assistance, offer him a place under my command. But if it was someone from Arizona, they would be coming from out of the water, this far from their territory. Maybe a scout from one of the armies up in the Midwest? I ran further north a few hundred yards, chasing the scent as the breeze pulled it away. My nostrils flared as the breeze twisted toward me again.
Peter?
No, it couldn't be… Peter was long dead. I sniffed again, unable to believe what I was smelling. Every vampire carried his or own scent, their own particular version of inhuman sweetness. I had known vampires whose scents were somewhat similar, especially if they had been biologically related as humans, but was it possible for someone to smell that much like him?
It was him. There was no mistaking it.
"Peter?" I called out in a harsh whisper, scanning the horizon.
"Here!"
My head snapped to the left, toward the whispered answer, and I saw movement among the rocks on a hillside, a quarter mile away. I glanced over my shoulder to ensure we were alone. I darted toward the hill, but stopped well short of where he was. What kind of trap was this? How had Peter been alive this whole time? Had he and Charlotte deserted to Arizona after all? Surely I would have scented him on patrols before now, if that had been the case…
Peter's head rose above the rocky landscape right in front of me. I flinched, backing up a few feet. A smile broke over his scarred face, and my gift sang to feel his familiar presence. His amicable trust had always been so soothing, and it glowed with something new now: anticipation… affection. I glanced over my shoulder again, finally stepping closer.
"I don't believe this," I began cautiously. But I couldn't help myself; I was smiling too. I couldn't believe he was still alive! I felt a happiness surge inside me; it was such a foreign feeling, it almost hurt. I felt the same happiness coming from him now. I wasn't used to all this positive emotion. I would be dizzy in a minute.
"It's good to see you," he said. He seemed hesitant to move any closer, as well. We stood in silence for half a minute, curiously taking each other in. He looked almost exactly the same as he had five years ago. Only one new scar on his cheek.
"You're… with Lorenzo now?" I asked quietly.
Peter's grin grew wider. "No. Charlotte and I don't serve anyone. We're free."
I blinked.
Peter's grin began to fade. "She lied to us, Jasper. The earth is not covered with swarms of vampires locked in eternal war."
I shook my head, not understanding. "What are you talking about?"
Peter hauled himself up onto one of the larger boulders. I tensed at the movement, back on guard again. It had to be a trap. I sniffed again, but I couldn't find anyone else's scent on him besides Charlotte. How was she still alive?
Peter hesitated for another moment, then spoke quietly. "I came back to tell you. It's going to be hard to hear, and harder to believe, but just hear me out, all right? When we left- when Charlotte and I ran that day- I thought we were done for. I thought that no matter how fast, or how far we ran, we'd eventually be caught by one of the hundreds of covens battling for dominance over their little corners of the U.S. I fully expected to die before the sun rose again… at least before the week was out."
I nodded grimly; I had naturally assumed the same. "Okay, I'm with you so far. So who did you run into?"
Peter smiled again, sadly this time. His red eyes watched me carefully as he spoke. "No one."
"What do you mean, no one? Are you trying to tell me that the Arizona coven vanished into thin air? And what about the neighboring covens?"
"Arizona's real enough," Peter said grimly. "I've known that from day one." His hand rose to his cheek, touching the jagged scar that ran from his nose to his ear, right above the new one. I was there the night he had gotten that scar. "I knew enough not to run that way. We made it up into the Midwest, though we thought it was only a matter of time. For a while, it made sense, not coming across anyone's scent- I figured the territories had to be bigger up there, what with the thinner human population. Thought maybe the fighting was further off, that maybe they hadn't gotten to run border patrols in a while. But two weeks… three weeks. I started to wonder. And then we ran into a mated pair."
I nodded towards him. "Scouts. The new scar?"
Peter grinned, suddenly flushed with an odd combination of embarrassment and lust and pride. "Uh, no, that's courtesy of Charlotte." I raised my eyebrows, but nodded for him to continue. "There wasn't any fighting with this pair. They were friendly. And they weren't scouts, they were nomads."
"Nomads?"
"It turns out most vampires are nomads- just wandering alone, or with a mate. Sometimes a friend or two. But free, Jasper. As far as I know, Arizona is the northernmost coven in the Wars, and most of their territory is actually south of Phoenix. The fighting isn't worldwide, not by a long shot. It's only here…" He swept his arm vaguely around. "Little bits of the southern states, Louisiana especially. Mexico, Central America… maybe the top couple hundred miles or so of South America. The rest of the vampire world calls it the Southern Wars."
I blinked again. I was still stuck on friendly. Peter didn't seem to be lying; at least I felt no malice, no spike in anxiety… none of the telltale emotions that went along with lies. He had to be mistaken. Lied to, himself.
"I know, too good to be true," Peter said quickly. "I wondered that myself. But it's been five years, Jasper. Charlotte and I have travelled all across the United States, even Canada, and I haven't seen a shred of evidence that there's any fighting anywhere except here. We've run into several others since then, all nomads like that first pair. They all had the same story. Most of them had heard of the fighting down here, but that's it."
I shook my head. It wasn't possible. Maybe Peter had been… influenced somehow. Someone with a hypnotic gift of some kind? But a five-year plan seemed like overkill, if it was someone's goal to use him just to lure me away from Maria. I'd never actually met Lorenzo, but I doubted he had the patience for that…
"Look," Peter said with a frown. His anxiety was returning. "I know it sounds crazy. But it's true, Jasper. We're free now." He glanced around. "I can't stay. Charlotte's waiting for me, back up near Houston-"
"You left her alone in Houston? Are you crazy?"
"-where she's perfectly safe," he continued firmly. "Because there is no fighting, even that close. But I'm not safe here- you know what Maria would do if she caught me. I have to go." He paused briefly, his red eyes fixed on mine. "Come with me, Jasper."
I coughed out a bitter laugh, but it died in my throat. What if it was true? All the inconsistencies, the tangles and gaps in Maria's stories began to make sense. I had always known that my creator and lies went hand in hand; I helped her tell them often enough. Could it really be possible that she had managed to lie to me about this, though? That I could have fallen for something this big? With my gift?
It didn't matter. Even if Peter had been tricked somehow, even if this was a trap… it was still better than what I had here. The best I could possibly hope for was a successful coup and change of power… for what? So that I could keep fighting for the rest of eternity, drowning in hate and blood and the painful drudgery of killing? I didn't suppose I could escape the blood, even if everything Peter said was true. And if it wasn't, maybe death was the best I could hope for. But if there was even the slimmest possibility of having peace…
Peter's eyes darted around; he was getting more nervous every second. "I have to go," he repeated, beginning to edge away. He looked at me in question.
I nodded. "And I'm coming with you."
He grinned, his happiness bubbling higher and lightening our anxiety. I closed my eyes for half a second, simply enjoying the feel of it. When I opened my eyes again he was already running. He shot away to the North, looking over his shoulder expectantly, and I followed. I didn't give the past eighty years a backward glance.
