Mirror Me

"Some people are best left in the past. Along

with your mistakes and regrets."

The moon was high in the sky outside; high and fat. It flooded Regan's room with a ghostly light, dancing chill inducing shadows over every surface. Regan had not bothered to find a match for the fireplace, she preferred the cold, to the heat that it offered her, and it's light was unnecessary.

She did not know how long it had been since the guard, Afton, had left her in peace, but the night had grown quite a bit, and she could not help but let her mind wander to what was happening below, below where and Aro and his ilk were discussing the recent horror of the murdered children in the city. These vampires and their secret meetings. Regan felt out of place among them.

She hoped to be free of Volterra soon enough, but her window of escape was getting smaller by the day, and now there was all this nonsense mentioned of her being some kind of Shield.

That was what Aro had said? Shield. What did that even mean? Other than one more obstacle to overcome. Aro's interest had gone from time sparing, to complicating, in a matter of days. Regan knew that if she was watched too closely, then she'd never be able to find a way of escape.

What if the kept her there forever? What if they turned her?

Regan shook her head with a sigh, she was getting ahead of herself. One problem at a time.

In a flurry of fabric, Regan crossed the room to slip into a pair of dark silk pyjamas. Careful to fold her used dress and other items carefully over the back of her vanity chair.

It was as she released her hair from it's confines, that she felt it. A cold breeze that had no place being there, and yet crept slowly over her spine none the less.

She froze, but immediately removed the frightened stare from her features. Now was not the time to be running from shadows.

"Why are you here?" She formally asked the room, privately wishing that no one would answer.

The day was not to be a lucky one.

"To see you, of course, sweet sister. It has been too long."

Regan felt as though she had been punched in the chest. She turned, half wishing, half pleading, that her mind had finally cracked, and it was not the voices of ghosts that she was hearing, not the past, not him.

If her brother was a hallucination, he was a very clear one.

"Caleb?" She whispered.

"In the flesh." He grinned. Oh how she hated that smile. Her father's smile.

"Not exactly." She corrected breathlessly.

She couldn't stop staring at him, the moon illuminated his form like he was some holy spectre, it was horrifyingly drawing. His skin was so pale now, his eyes crimson, his face beautiful. Vampire.

"I've had something of an upgrade, Regan, if you can tell. What do you think of the new me?" Caleb twirled flamboyantly, a light titter escaping his lips.

He looked to Regan expectantly, but she was in no mood to exchange pleasantries.

"Exactly the same as I thought of you before." She answered coldly, subtly eyeing up the door. Had Afton locked it? "Why are you here Caleb? Has Aro hid you from me all this time? Is that why I haven't been killed?"

"Aro? Oh no." Caleb dismissed her happily. "The Volturi are not my masters, sister. Are they yours?"

Regan blinked.

"But then who made you? Where the hell have you been all this time?" She demanded hotly, avoiding the question of her servitude. She narrowed her eyes. "It was you they were talking about? The nomad. You murdered those children."

Caleb shrugged. "They served as a distraction."

"Distraction?"

"So I could get to you, of course. All I had to do was wait. The Volturi were bound to react quickly to a killing so close to their doorstep."

"I'll think you'll find it was on their doorstep actually. They're gunning for your head."

Caleb smiled slyly. "They'll have to find me first."

He continued smiling, but the gesture didn't last, it faltered suddenly, an all too familiar rage crossing his features, until he quickly smoothed them back over into a smooth expression.

Regan swallowed hard. "What's wrong?"

"You can see me."

"Of course I can see you." She replied, annoyance edging her tone.

Caleb narrowed his eyes. "You shouldn't be able to."

"What do you – ?"

He held a long finger up to his lips, silencing her. Then he pointed to the door. A moment later there was a knock, and ever more confused when Caleb urged her to answer, Regan whispered her admittance.

"Come in."

Aro, in all his elegance, glided regally through the door. To say Regan was both terrified and eerily captivated would be an understatement. He appeared as though a ethereal spectre in the moonlight, a ghostly apparition. His raven hair contrasted so perfectly with his ivory features, Regan found it hard to look away. She had even almost forgotten her brother's unwanted, and exceptionally problematic presence.

Almost.

"Is something wrong?" She managed to stammer eventually, trying hard not to stare confused daggers at a very smug looking Caleb, as Aro, calm and collected, strode further into her room, seemingly oblivious to his unwelcome guest.

Aro raised an elegant eyebrow at her. "Why would you think that, my dear?

She swallowed nervously. "You do not normally come here."

"Perhaps, but then today has not been a normal day."

He ran his gaze around the room, appearing as though he expected to find something there, twice Regan saw his eyes pass over the spot where Caleb stood, and twice Aro paid it no special heed. It was a though her brother truly were a ghost.

Despite her fear, she found herself nodding automatically in reply. "It has been rather eventful..." She hesitated, glancing briefly at her brother. "Did you find the nomad?"

Aro waved her off. "You need not concern yourself with that. It is a matter for my brothers and I to deal with. I have come to return this."

From behind his back, Aro produced Regan's rucksack, she reached for it instinctively, of course – it held the contents of her life, but Aro held it back, placing it carefully on the bed behind him, before folding his hands pointedly over his belt.

"Thank you, master." Regan murmured dutifully, privately hoping subservience would grant her freedom from his questions.

Aro smiled. "No need to thank me, dear one. It is yours, after all. I simply wished to remind you, that my brother brought our conversation to an early end this afternoon. I would very much like to continue it."

Regan smiled lightly. "I wouldn't be so eager, Caius likely saved you minutes of boredom."

Aro narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "I doubt that."

"You flatter me, master."

"I do no such thing. Flattery is for narcissists and fools. You, Regan, are neither."

"I wouldn't say that." She murmured, avoiding her brother's gaze, and moving sadly to stand by the window seat. "I have found that at times, I have been very foolish."

In the reflection of the glass, she saw her brother's smile, the flash of white that had haunted her dreams for so many months now. With a small wave of his hand, he turned to the door, opened it silently, and disappeared soundlessly into the night. Leaving her with nothing but a freshened memory of blood.

His unnoticed departure left Regan wondering whether he had ever really been there in the first place.

She shivered.

"I do not wish to talk about ghosts." She murmured darkly, but there was a pleading note to her words, one that she rarely gave voice to.

If Aro had noticed it, he showed little care, for the next moment he held a loose tendril of her silken blackness between his fingers, toying with it idly, as he stared down into Regan's emerald wells.

"I'm afraid that the dead do not sleep here, tesorina. So talk we must. From the beginning."

She sighed. Was there really no rest for the wicked?

R&R!

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