Chapter 14: Shell
My mask became my shell. My shell became me. I moved like the happy Alice, I acted like the happy Alice, I laughed, talked, danced, and shopped like the happy Alice. No one knew or even guessed that the happy Alice had burned to ash.
I wanted to tell them, to share the pain of losing Jasper, but I couldn't. I couldn't bear the pain. I couldn't speak the words. I couldn't yet share the full measure of my useless gift.
When I was with the others, especially Paul, it was easy to just trust in their strength and mimic their joy. Paul was happy with my choice. His gift pressed the belief that I had done the right thing into my shell and made it even stronger. It didn't matter to me that it was Paul's happiness and pleasure, his gift let me pretend it was mine.
As the days turned to weeks, I ceased to exist except in times of weakness. The shell grew hard and strong and fit itself over me so completely that no one knew or guessed that I was suffocating inside its crushing protection.
x||X||x
"There is such a difference between London and Paris," the shell noted pleasantly as we cruised down the Seine.
"It is like night and day for me," replied Annette. "Every building and street sign has a beauty all it's own in Paris. Truly, the city of lights," she sighed.
London, Lisbon, Madrid, Toulouse, Bordeaux, Lyon, Paris. The shell ran through the list, and the clear memories. We spent one to three months in each, and I now spoke Portuguese, Spanish, and French. We had visited museums, castles, and old friends of the coven. Each city held a magic that the shell could see but never really touch. It was a rather pathetic waste.
"Do you want to practice again tonight, Alice? You could be a prima ballerina, if you chose to, you know," Annette said as she pulled me back from the memories of other places. She smiled proudly. She was right, the shell was almost as good as she was. We both enjoyed dancing in the studios of Paris, but even more, we loved dancing in the night clubs. Like New York, Paris never slept. Annette and Marianne made sure that the shell met every available vampire in Europe and danced with them all. It was the hardest thing the shell had to do, make pleasant and uninterested conversation with potential suitors.
"Yes, I would love that," the shell smiled back, "do we really need to leave so soon?" Parisians were quite delicious. Marianne said it was the butter and wine that made them taste so good.
"There is so much of Europe left to see. Besides, we cannot stay here forever, the population is already stressed." There were five current covens in Paris, and they constantly fought. New York's peace was a tribute to Paul's leadership.
"Are you sure about Berlin?" Hitler made the shell nervous. Those visions were becoming clearer.
"Don't worry. What can they do to us?" Marianne scolded. She was right, of course. They were all sure the shell's fear of Hitler was unfounded. He was very vampiric in his drive, and most of the others saw him as a good, strong leader.
"Two more weeks is all the shopping we can stand," reminded the very bored Gregorio, "I swear I will burst into spontaneous flame if I see another fashion show." He hated shopping more than anything else, and so he also hated Paris more than anywhere else.
x||X||x
Brussels, Helsinki, Berlin. We only stayed three weeks in Berlin, because even they couldn't stand it for long. The city was incredibly oppressive, so we moved on quickly. Zurich, Milan, Tuscany, Bologna, Rome.
The shell held firm. It now spoke German, Swedish, and Italian.
"You should go with us, Alice. They will want to meet you, and, they really aren't so bad." Marianne lied, almost pleading with the shell to accompany them. If they weren't so bad, why was she so nervous?
We were in Rome, and it was time to go to see the Volturi. They had all tried to get me to go to the city of Volterra itself, but the shell held firm to the belief that it should not see the Volturi yet. Besides, my friends had insisted on going to see the Pope's Easter Mass first, which wasn't exactly a good sign. If nothing bad was going to happen in the small city of Volterra, then why did they absolutely insist on having a mass with the pope beforehand?
"I just don't want to meet the rule keepers yet. I've broken so many of the rules that they may not like me, and that is often deadly - or so you've told me," the shell reminded them.
Gregorio was a regular encyclopedia when it came to the Volturi, and the shell had heard all their exploits of the past thousand years.
The shell wasn't afraid that they wouldn't like it, but rather that they would like it too much. According to Paul and Gregorio, the Volturi made a habit of collecting vampires with gifts, and my gift, the real one, would be very desirable to them. Paul, who seemed to understand that I knew about much more than money, supported its decision to stay away from them. Apparently, he didn't want to lose what he thought was me.
Most importantly, the cold, white figures with their flowing cloaks that the shell saw in the visions scared me to my core. They were macabre, far worse even than the monsters that humans created.
"Are you sure you want to stay here by yourself?" Marianne fretted.
"I am perfectly capable of shopping by myself," my shell responded with exaggerated annoyance.
"It's the shopping that worries me," laughed Marianne. "You only have a few million left, so don't go overboard."
The shell cringed because it was in the habit of going overboard with the distractions that kept it whole. The shell had very much enjoyed the distractions of Europe, and if it weren't for the pain that the shattered parts of me constantly felt, the memories of this trip would have been marvelous. As always, I writhed in that pain as the shell kept smiling.
"Is this the first time we've left you alone?" wondered Paul. "Yes, I think it is. I really didn't notice before this how much you seem to be around. Maybe we should officially adopt you," he ventured. Over the last eighteen months, Paul had pushed the shell to join the coven, but my shell and I both still shied away from the option.
But, what else is left for me? Wouldn't it be better, easier, that way? The shell quickly silenced the agonized plea.
If ever the shell did join this coven, it would do so without the constant push from Paul. His gifted leadership kept me whole, but also kept me from finally committing to them. The shell and I would not be forced.
"I am getting a little old to adopt," it replied dryly. "I'm already twelve."
"But you're as cute and annoying as any child I've ever seen," grinned Gregorio as they headed out.
The shell went with them as far as the hills around Volterra, and then it spent the night seeing the countryside. It was used to doing things at night, but when daylight came, my shell would be trapped in whatever place it could find. Italy was annoyingly sunny.
Alone. Two days.
By dawn, the shell found a shaded place to hide. The place was an old chapel on a rocky hill. The subterranean catacombs underneath were perfect. It really didn't matter where the shell chose to hide because it had already seen all the spectacles, churches, museums, shops, and artifacts that it wanted to.
Alone.
It wasn't good. And the shell couldn't go out until evening.
Nights were like this, too, as two sets of lovers went to do what vampire couples do best - and continuously - all night long. The shell had seen Europe at night now for eighteen months. It had wandered the Roman streets and countryside for the last four months alone. It had been through all the smaller cities and swum many nights in the Mediterranean. It had even eaten there. Sailors. They were large and filling, but tasted too much like fish, and we hate seafood. The shell had climbed Apennines and the Alps, seen every cathedral in Europe, and even explored the underground of Europe's ancient cities during the long nights. It did anything it could to divert its mind from what the others were so obviously doing.
Today, though, the shell could think of nothing to do.
Alone. Visions might come.
Pain might crack the shell.
Or worse, hope.
What was left of me remembered back to the first time the shell had nearly cracked, when hope nearly did my shell in. It was night, so the shell was wandering around Berlin, feeling oddly uneasy. The city had that effect on people these days.
The shell stopped the memory that the pieces of me wanted to see again. The memories brought lingering hope. Lingering hope brought pain. The shell stopped pain.
However, my broken heart won the battle, and the memory came flooding in against my shell's will.
Carlisle and Esme were dancing to a classic piece in their large parlor when the soft knock on the door stopped them. They went to see who it was, playfully rumpling each other's hair and clothes to look a bit disheveled, like a human couple. When they opened the door, Edward stood there, his eyes locked on his feet. When he looked up, his eyes were dark with hunger. Their joy at seeing the black-eyed Edward standing there was almost unfathomable.
"Edward! Oh, Edward," they had cried, and pulled him into the embrace of their encircling stone arms.
"I'm so sorry!" he sobbed. He couldn't even look at them. "I was wrong, so wrong. Please forgive me, Carlisle and Esme, please."
I, not the shell, wanted to stay angry at him for the agony he had caused them, but Edward was utterly pitiful in his despair, brokenness and shame, and even I couldn't stay mad. They, of course, accepted him back without hesitation, and their joy and family was complete again.
It wasn't his redemption, or their love that hurt the most. It was the fact that he had hope. My eyes and life now mirrored what he had looked like, but for me there was no home to return to, no family, and no hope.
The hope hurt. Again.
The knowledge that somewhere my family was waiting for me stabbed me. I couldn't go to them, not now that I would never be whole. The painful memory nearly made the shell double over. It was the only time that I had nearly turned back; the only time I had felt a true emotion. The shell was thicker now, and it kept me from feeling much of anything but the endless, numbing pain.
Now, here alone in this dead place, all I could do was hope that the shell could hold myself together for two days until my friends returned. The shell sat on the stone under the church, curled up its knees, and listened to music that my memory dredged up. Music could sometimes fill my mind when other distractions couldn't.
My shell tried to see Volterra again, and the meeting that would take place there tonight. It would rather see the ghostlike figures than risk more memories. This time the vision came.
Paul and Gregorio presented the three ghosts with gifts while their wives stood nearby. The room was done in the Tuscan style with gilded carvings and intricate murals covering the walls. Rich fabric hung everywhere, and in the center of it all stood three thrones, also gilded. It rivaled any palace or cathedral Europe boasted.
This was a vision out of hell, though, not heaven. While Paul's coven wore the elegant clothing of modern Paris, the figures on and around the thrones wore the same cloaks that painters often gave the devil. Paul would talk to the vampires, and nothing could be hidden. Annette had said that the Volturi knew everything that had happened in your life. The shell couldn't imagine the horror of having these ghostly pale vampires with clouded eyes knowing everything. That is why it could never go, because it knew it would never be allowed to leave. The shell and I were a freak among even vampires, a creature apart and utterly alone. The thought dredged up even more despair.
The shell forced the emotions back down, and played music in my mind until the coven came back.
When they returned the next evening, the shell was still singing the pain away. The shell greeted them warmly, and chatted with them as we took a ship to Istanbul. The shell loved the scenery of the Aegean Sea and the wonder of Istanbul. The coven was relaxed and happy, and in response, my happy shell reveled in the trip. It never missed a beat.
xX||oOo||Xx
Istanbul, Damascus, Jerusalem, Alexandria, and Cairo.
I learned to speak Turkish, and Arabic, and a little Hebrew.
We were not going to stay long in Cairo, because the sun was unrelenting here. We stayed indoors, visiting Paul's friend, Amun, and his invisible wife Kebi. They were very hospitable and wonderful hosts, but Kebi seemed put off by the ladies of Paul's coven. She rarely came out of her sitting room or kitchen to talk with us. We had all tried to be openly friendly, but she didn't respond. In fact, she seemed to have no personality of her own. Perhaps, though, she saved it all for her mate.
By the second evening, Paul, Gregorio and Amun had begun sharing their various adventures with each other in a mild competition. Each one was trying to best the other with their stories. Soon, the topic of the most recent coven war came up, and so did my once unusual eyes.
"She just showed up in New York with these yellow eyes. No creator, no coven, and no humans in her diet. It was truly the strangest thing I had ever seen," laughed Paul as he remembered. "She drank the blood of animals, can you imagine? She is one of the very best fighters we have ever seen, and she very nearly wasted it." He was shaking his head at the incredulous memory.
My shell was trying not to listen. That memory was amusing to him but intolerable for me. Pain rippled through me.
The shell became aware of Amun's next story, one that would continue the one- upmanship that seemed to be normal for Paul and Amun's relationship.
"So, you know Carlisle, then?" said a whispered voice next to me. Kebi had silently come over and her smiling face was only a foot from mine.
Both the shell and I froze. "What did you say?" It was rude to state it so bluntly, but the shock at hearing that name took away the need for any niceties. Neither the shell nor the pieces underneath could endure talking about him.
"Carlisle Cullen, the doctor, did he teach you to hunt only animals?" She quietly asked with curious eyes.
"Yes," I blurted out before the shell could stop and think. It was true; the vision of him had taught me the now lost secret of remaining a good vampire.
"Is he well? He is the very best and most compassionate of our kind," she smiled at some memory, "and I often think of him."
"You know him?"
"Yes, when he lived in Volterra for so many years, Amun and I became well acquainted with him. How is he doing?" Her soft voice was utterly sincere.
"He's doing very well." My shell and I looked around. None of the men were looking my way, and the girls were on the roof enjoying the night's breeze.
"He has a mate and a son, now, and I think he is very happy," the shell stammered. She smiled wider and sighed contentedly.
"I am so glad to hear of it. He was alone for far too long, you know. Why did you stop eating only animals, did it become too much? My Amun thinks that it is unhealthy and weakens both the mind and body," she said leaning even closer to me.
"It became too difficult," my shell replied numbly.
Doctor?
"Did you say he was a doctor? How can that be?" I couldn't even imagine a vampire being able to touch so many human bodies, especially ones that might be bleeding.
"He has never tasted human blood, so he is nearly immune after almost three hundred years," she stated with wide eyes. The story still was as unbelievable to her as it was to me.
"Three hundred years? That's incredible! He never ate a human in three hundred years?" She nodded, eyes wide. "Do you know where he is now?" I asked quickly. The shell cracked just a bit, and the pieces of myself broke through to ask the question.
"Somewhere in your country, in the North, I think. He works for five years or so, and then moves on. He works at hospitals, if he hasn't changed his ways." Suddenly, Amun called her name sharply, and she was gone to his side in an instant. He did not like her talking with us because we were far too independent for him. Normally, the shell would have been angry with him, but after the conversation, it couldn't tell what it felt. The shell wanted nothing of this conversation, but I wanted to know much more. The shell won.
The topic of our very outgoing personalities was a constant source of both amusement and annoyance for Amun. Mostly annoyance. We went when and where the sun let us without asking permission. We butted into their conversations and had strong opinions on almost any topic. He didn't like how we acted, spoke, thought, or dressed, and he didn't want us anywhere near his wife. According to Amun, we did everything wrong.
In fact, we made a habit of it for Kebi's sake.
Even simple things like ballet and music outraged him. He looked like he was having a heart attack (not an easy thing to do when you don't have a working heart) when Annette and I showed him some ballet moves. Marianne wanted to do the Charleston or, even better, the Tango with Gregorio for him. Amun would have self-combusted.
Our poor behavior was being discussed again on the last day of our visit. We ladies had just returned from our final outing. We had learned to wear the suffocating, head to toe robes that the local women wore. The robes allowed us to go out whenever we wanted because no one could see our skin underneath all those layers.
"Yes, Amun," sighed an exasperated Gregorio, "all the women in the United States, and most of the rest of the world for that matter, do act like them."
"It really doesn't bother us at all. They are our mates, for God's sake. They won't do anything to harm us and I would love to see what happens to anyone who tries to harm them. You should see them fight, especially little Alice. She is nearly unstoppable." The shell proudly smiled at Paul's assessment of my abilities.
"She is small and very fast. It is like trying to fight a combination of a striking snake and a ferret, only faster," added Gregorio. My shell and I both were rather annoyed at his little comparison.
"Are you talking about us again?" asked a happy Marianne as she skipped into the room. She loved taunting Amun more than anyone.
"You go out like you own the city. You could expose us all, or be hurt. I won't be responsible for that," scolded Amun.
"We just wanted one last shopping trip and another chance to get some pictures," said Annette. "It was harmless, and we are very careful."
"You are neither harmless nor careful. You are full of harmful ideas and are the most careless women I have ever met. You are just so different from what is normal and right, I cannot get used to it."
"You only know one type of normal, Amun," said Gregorio. "There are other forms of normal behavior out there. They aren't any different from any other vampires."
"We aren't any different from what we have always been," added a vexed Marianne dryly. "This is how we always behave, and we aren't going to change just because we are here."
"Have you been to Paris or Brussels?" my shell asked Amun innocently, "You should go, it would answer a lot of your questions. You might even find out the reason we behave the way we do." I would have loved to see Amun in either of those two cities.
Paul shot me a warning glare, but he had a grin on his face. Yes, Amun in Paris would be something to see.
"I do not want to change either, so perhaps it is best that I stay here," Amun answered brusquely.
"Actually, we can change. Or at least Alice can. We have seen it," stated Annette, "so perhaps there is hope for you."
"Yes," agreed Marianne, "Maybe we should stay longer so Alice can get to know Kebi and you a little better. I'm sure with enough time, even you would end up changing a few of your ways." She grinned and winked at me, but then her face became perplexed. She looked like she wanted to ask me a question, but thought the better of it and continued grinning at Amun.
"That's enough, you three. Poor Amun doesn't need to try to stand up to all three of you at once." Paul kept the light tone, but the warning was there. He didn't want to make an enemy of his old friend.
It was our last night, anyway, so we let it drop.
We decided to travel at night on foot across the coast of northern Africa. It was strangely beautiful in a rugged way, or would have been if we hadn't seen so many soldiers here. We were quiet the whole way because everyone finally realized that my visions of war were coming true. We would need to make a decision about where to go and quickly, although Gregorio was all for staying. Wars were a virtual smorgasbord for vampires.
We spent the day at Tripoli, and that is where Marianne ambushed me.
We were in a mud brick excuse of a hotel, and I had gone out to sit under the porch on the roof and enjoy the heat of the day, my skin was very warm here in the desert. Marianne joined me on the roof with a determined and somewhat hostile look in her eye. She just stood there rigidly, her arms across her chest and glared at me.
"What is it?" she demanded.
"What is what?" the shell laughingly replied.
"Alice, stop it. Tell me what's wrong, tell me what happened to you." She was serious, and very fervent. My shell held while I panicked. I could not hide from the pain if she wanted me to share it.
"I don't know what you are talking about. Nothing has happened to me."
"That's what I mean, nothing has happened to you. It's like you are a caricature of yourself. I noticed it a few months ago, but I thought it was just the traveling and new places, but I realize now that you're different somehow. Before you came to Europe, you could adapt, be someone new - you could alter yourself and change. You are the same person who showed up in London." Her tone was accusing.
"We don't change, remember? We are frozen. This is the frozen me."
"No, it's not you at all. You laugh, shop, dance, and talk, but you aren't you. Just tell me one thing, why do you drink human blood now? If our friendship has meant anything at all, tell me the truth."
The shell could have ignored anything but that. Our friendship. It was the one remaining good thing, the one remaining truth. Everything in my life was a lie except their friendship. I could never truly be close to anyone, but even as distant as I had been from the coven, they had remained my truest friends.
The shell splintered, and my shattered self poured out.
"I saw my mate." I spat. I said the words with the same tone a dying person might tell of his illness, only with more hate.
"Excuse me?"
"I said I saw my mate. His name is Jasper, and I fit him like you fit Gregorio." It was the only way to explain it.
"Well...that's wonderful...but..." she had never been at such a loss for words, and the look on her face reminded me of the look Makenna had given me on the day I learned that I was a vampire. Marianne was utterly lost and confused.
"WHY are you here?" she blurted out. "If you know where he is, you need to go to him. I don't understand, Alice, this is supposed to be wonderful, isn't it?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Pain. I brought my knees to my chest to try to settle my wounded self.
"Alice?"
Pain. I couldn't answer yet because the words rebelled in my mouth.
"Alice, are you all right?" She was becoming hysterical. If I didn't answer, she would call for help.
"He...has...found...another...mate...and -" I was shaking too hard to finish.
Her hands grasped my heaving shoulders, and suddenly, I was wrapped in her stone arms as she tried to calm me. After what seemed like an eternity, she let go of my body and held my face firmly to look at me. I tried looking elsewhere, but her face was only an inch from mine, so I simply looked into her understanding eyes.
"Oh, Alice, I am so sorry." It was little more than a whisper. I could tell she didn't understand how I had seen a mate and left him, but she was willing to accept my pain as it was.
Suddenly, it was too much, and the shell disintegrated. There was no more control, and no more protection. I couldn't take any more. My pain, mirrored in her eyes, twisted and constricted around me and began to crush what little was left of my self.
I felt my body growl and heave against her, and Marianne backed away. It was totally instinct and pain, and I felt nothing but the need to get away and protect myself. I leapt from the roof, and began to run along the shore of the Mediterranean. I saw and heard nothing as the run, the need for escape, consumed me. I didn't even stop for the sun, though it would have been difficult for any human to see me. Finally, I turned into the desert where few humans would venture.
By the next nightfall, I was nearing a human town, an ancient city of stone. The smell of so many bodies triggered the burning in my throat even though I truly wasn't thirsty. Running only on instinct, I went onto the roofs to look for a likely victim, someone old or alone and unwanted; this had become my habit.
Instead, I came across a young couple sitting in an enclosed patio. They were barely more than adolescents. They were whispering, and nervous, obviously not supposed to be together but too much in love to stay away. The unwanted vision that accompanied them told me that they were soon to be wed. I hated them with a fury that seemed to burn me. Their love and happiness was so evident, and it made a mockery of my pain. Even as the happy wedding played through my head, I pounced on them. I covered his mouth as I drank her, and then a few seconds later, ended his struggles, neither had time to cry out. As I drank of their blood, my fury ebbed, the vision shifted, and the wedding became a funeral procession of broken mothers and fathers weeping uncontrollably as their children were buried in the dry desert sand.
What have I done?
There was just enough left of the good Alice that the horror of my actions crashed down on me.
This was no accident or survival need; this was murder. I had killed two innocent children in a jealous rage. I had eaten them because of an undeserved hatred. I was now the monster, the beast that I loathed and feared.