AN: Hey guys! Long time no see! But I'm back, hopefully with semi-regular updates for a while so hooray!


CHAPTER FIFTEEN: INDUCTION

I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself.

It wasn't just physically that I would never fit in…

If I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people,

What were my chances here?

Bella, Twilight Chapter 1

When the sun reached its zenith in the sky—something I could feel, even underground—Alice turned to me and asked. "How are you holding up?"

I winced at her question. I knew exactly what she was referring to—how well I was adjusting to my new identity as a killer. And the truth wasn't pretty.

"Not so good," I said, staring pointedly at the floor.

The weirdly resonant sound that was my voice now still caught me off guard. And I was sure at some point it was going to startle Alice too. Never before had I sounded so much like an angelic choir.

But she didn't miss a beat. "Don't worry," she replied in a soothing voice, rubbing my shoulder delicately. "It will get easier. And you're already way ahead of Carlisle."

I smiled wryly at this. If by "way-ahead" Alice meant that I didn't have any religious objections to drinking human blood, then she was right. If there was a God—and that was a question I fiercely refused to confront with any real depth while I was still on earth—then I wasn't interested in being bogged down by his rules. I would decide for myself what I thought was right, thank you very much.

But if Alice was trying to imply that I was already well on my way toward accepting human death as a regular, casual part of life, then no. I was not "way ahead". In fact, on that front, I was three steps behind.

I didn't have to believe my soul was in jeopardy to believe something was fundamentally wrong with killing people. All the descriptions I'd heard of Hell didn't sound all that frightening anyway. Especially not after I'd endured the pain of venom—nothing could possibly be worse than that.

So, it wasn't fear that prompted my previous good behavior and my current unwillingness to kill. But basic humanity. Or what was left of it, anyway.

I'd grown up all my life, surrounded by humans. Good ones, too, mostly. They were my parents, my friends, my teachers, the kind cashiers who thanked me for my purchases and told me to have a nice day, the familiar giggles I heard whenever I went to the mall…

Sure, there were bad ones too—like the rapists and murderers Edward had hunted during his rebellious phase. And maybe he had been right, maybe they deserved to die. But, although I didn't have the insight his gift provided, I was pretty sure my singular victim wasn't like that. That he was at the very least, a sort of decent person.

I winced again. It hurt to know that I had snuffed out a life that had done nothing wrong. That his growth as a person was stopped short. That he would never utter another word. Never see his family or friends—if he had any—again. Never set foot outside these castle walls. That I'd robbed him of a long, potentially fulfilling future, for nothing other than my own voracious appetite.

It made me feel sick. And no amount of callous justification could console me.

While I roiled in discomfort, Alice looked at her watch—a fancy silver coil studded with diamonds that snaked around her wrist. Then she tapped me lightly on the shoulder, to get my attention, and jabbed a pale thumb in the direction of my bedroom door.

"Aro is expecting us soon. We should probably get going."

I blinked in shock at the news—an old human habit that was stunningly hard to break. "Expecting us?" It was impossible to keep the horror out of my tone. "What does he want?"

"He wants to go over strategy, you know, prepare for the upcoming battle?" Alice informed me patiently. "He's going to need me there of course, to show him and probably his brothers as many possibilities for victory as I can. And he'll want you there, too, since you play a pretty crucial role in all this."

I nodded a little glumly. That was what had gotten me into this mess in the first place. I wasn't sure if Alice and I would have ever even met if it wasn't for her visions of me acting as some kind of savior of the entire vampire race in this upcoming fight. She might have left the Cullens long before I ever came to Forks, once it was obvious that Edward was not interested in a lifestyle change.

"What should I wear?" I asked, gesturing limply to myself.

I was wearing the same thing I'd worn the night before—a puffy, frilly white shirt, tight black pants, and flat, calf-high boots. And my hair and makeup from then was still pristine—one of the few perks of not having to sleep anymore.

But I knew Alice wasn't going to be happy with me just looking gorgeous. She would want my first formal event involving the entire guard to knock them out of the park.

"What you have on is good," Alice said, appraising my outfit happily. "Though, it could use a little something…"

Alice suddenly leapt up from the bed where we'd both been sitting on, to grab the huge, gilt-framed mirror propped against the east wall, and place it directly in front of me. Then she darted over to my vanity, and began rifling through hundreds of velvet-lined boxes of expensive jewelry. She grabbed a handful and trotted back over to the bed, spreading them out over the purple covers. Then she grabbed my right hand and started trying different things on—rings, bracelets, broaches—to achieve stylistic perfection.

I rolled my eyes at her efforts. This wasn't Project Runway.

And even if it was, no one would be looking at me next to Alice. Her hair, rather than being in its usual spiky do, had been smoothed into short, elegant pin-curls around her face. Her makeup was especially on-point—fierce eyeliner and dark lips. And underneath an old black cloak—one I suspected she'd dug out of the back of her closet from her earlier Volturi days—she wore a bold, geometric-print jacket, red leather pants, and towering black stilettos

In short, she would have made Giorgio Armani weep tears of joy.

And next to that, I was only okay.

Though I was a little confused about when I had started caring. Maybe now that I actually stood a chance?

I shook away that thought, and tried to focus on what was important. "Shouldn't I have a cloak too?" I asked gesturing to the aged garment hanging loosely off Alice's petite shoulders. "And a necklace?" I pointed to the silver, V-shaped pendant that all the Volturi wore. The one with rubies affixed at either end. And a coat of arms in the middle.

"Not yet," Alice said, shaking her head. "You haven't been officially inducted."

I started at the unfamiliar word. "Inducted?" That sounded serious.

"Yep, Aro's a bit dramatic, so he likes to make a bit of a ceremony out of giving out his cloaks and pendants," Alice said, rolling her eyes as she continued to fiddle with different combinations of jewelry. "But it's nothing to be worried about. It's pretty short. He'll give you all the instruction you need. And I'll be right there with you."

I tried to feel better with these reassurances. I really did. But the word ceremony scared me. It reminded me too much of embarrassing things like prom.

While Alice debated between a thick silver bangle and a thin red beaded bracelet, I stared at my alien reflection in the mirror. The alien in the mirror—I still wasn't comfortable thinking of her as me—quavered with anxiety. And her vivid crimson eyes—eyes so bright they were almost glowing—flickered nervously, imagining every horrible way my induction could go wrong.

What if I tripped over the hem of my cloak? What if Aro wanted me to put the necklace on myself, and I broke the clasp? What if I'm supposed to bow, and I end up head-butting someone instead?

It wasn't until Alice spoke, that I realized I was holding my breath.

"Breathe, just breathe," she encouraged.

I tried to follow her instructions—I really did. But my new vampire body was very irregular in obeying my directions. Sometimes, it completed actions before the thoughts to prompt them were even fully formed in my head—making me brash and impulsive. And other times, like right now, it wouldn't cooperate with my demands no matter what I did. Which was frustrating to no end.

I tried to open my mouth, to suck in a deep breath and let the fresh air whistle up my nostrils and down my throat. But it just wasn't happening. And instead, my hands started to tremble in my lap.

"Come on Bella, breathe!" Alice said a bit more urgently now that she saw I was shaking. "Or don't. It doesn't really matter now. Just don't panic, okay. No one's going to tear your head off."

I ripped my gaze away from my bedroom's full-length mirror to stare at Alice. To make sure she wasn't tricking me. "You're sure?"

"Positive," she said with total confidence.

I frowned. It wasn't fair. Alice could cheat.

And for a moment I envied her ability to peer into the future. To be unworried about what would happen next because she could already see it working out with perfect clarity.

Oh, what I wouldn't trade to have that assurance.

But then I remembered there were less pleasant sides to Alice's gift. She could see catastrophes coming. Big catastrophes if her words four days ago were anything to go by. And the burden of having to try and circumvent those tragedies clearly weighed on her a lot.

"You're sure Jane won't try to get in a few good swipes at me?" I asked, shivering at the thought.

Alice shook her head. "Not with Aro there. Besides, I don't think she hates you as much as she hates me."

I found that hard to believe. The indignation I'd seen in her eyes when Aro had dared to compare our powers was pretty intense. Not to mention how furious she was that I was immune to her powersin the first place. When she hadn't made me fall, screaming to the floor, the veins in her forehead had looked ready to burst.

But I took a moment to consider Alice's perspective, anyway.

I had a pretty good idea of why Jane and Alice didn't get along. Jane wanted to be Aro's one and only favorite. And while that was a pretty impossible thing to achieve to begin with—seriously, Aro collected vampires with super powers like the British Museum collected valuable ancient artifacts—Alice was her main contender. The other vampire whose power Aro couldn't stand to be without. The other vampire he seemed to prize the most.

But that didn't mean Alice was Jane's only contender. Thanks to Alice's predictions, Aro had been pretty interested in my powers too. Interested enough to change me himself. And if I somehow managed to pull off this whole saving-the-entire-vampire-race thing, Jane might be fighting me for the top spot in Aro's ever-shifting hierarchy.

I swallowed. "Jane may not hate me as much now. Butthat might change," I warned Alice.

Alice shrugged, as if vampire politicking didn't really concern her. "Maybe. But again, she's not going to do anything about it while everyone is watching. She never did anything to me when there was an audience."

Alice grimaced then. And my crimson eyes shot open wide when I realized what she was saying.

"Jane used to torture you behind Aro's back?"

Alice looked embarrassed all of a sudden—like she'd overshared—and tried to play it off. "Oh, it wasn't so bad. A little here, a little there…"

I shook my head slowly. I wasn't buying it. Even suffering a little of Jane's power had to be excruciating if Edward's performance four days ago was anything to go by.

"And Aro didn't notice?"

I found that hardest to believe. Wouldn't he see it by reading Jane's mind? And wouldn't he put a stop to it if he knew? Or is he really that callous?

Alice shrugged. "I don't think he knows. But that's not really a surprise. Jane's been working with Aro for a thousand years, Bella. So, she's learned ways to… block things out. To make her mind go blank when she's doing something she doesn't want him to know about."

Finally, I did breathe. But it was a sharp intake of air—the kind you did when you were frightened—not a deep, relaxing breath.

Jane can keep secrets from Aro? So, she might try to stab me in the back when I was alone?

Great. Just great.

"There, that's more like it," Alice enthused, when she saw my chest inflate. "You might not need air anymore. But I find it helps."

I wasn't sure help was the right word. For one thing, I wasn't breathing in a soothing way. And for another, air didn't do the same things it used to do for me. I no longer needed it. So my lungs didn't feel the refreshing sensation of relief when it wafted in.

But when I breathed, I also smelled. And at least my new nose was sharp enough for that to be distracting.

The room we were now in—the large bedroom Alice had gifted to me after my first meal—had a lot of interesting smells. There was the faint, pungent aroma of paint fumes still clinging to the recently cream-colored walls. A waft of fresh industrial glue sticking down the lush, black carpet. The woody scent of hand-crafted furniture. And of course, the closest and strongest scent, of Alice, who smelled like all vampires did—like sunshine and honey—but with her own unique undertones of mint and cedar.

I breathed in again, reveling in the new world of experience my enhanced senses gave me. Then exhaled. And repeated the process a few times, until I felt my quivering shoulders begin to still.

Alice finished accessorizing me a few moments later—she decided against the bangles, and kept it simple with a small, silver ring on my right hand. And smiled brilliantly at me.

"Alright, let's go," she said, tugging me towards the door. "We wouldn't want to keep everyone waiting, would we?"

The turret room, as it so happened, was not the usual place the Volturi conducted their business. That room existed for two reasons—to feed in, and to kill criminals in. And they liked to avoid entertaining guests there whenever possible. Which made Edward's anger at being brought there make more sense.

Instead, my induction was to take place in another room—the one past the gilded doors at the other end of the hallway, instead of through a secret panel in the wall. And this room, when Alice dragged me into it, was one I was surprised to recognize already.

It was the same rectangular room Aro had met Carlisle in. It was about half as large as the turret room. It wasn't circular. And it wasn't nearly as dark because twenty or so wrought iron candelabras had been placed around the sides of the room, spaced evenly, a few feet apart. Which illuminated the space with bright, flickering orange light.

As Alice tugged me inside, I felt like I was revisiting that memory all over again, though from the doctor's perspective, rather than Aro's. But there were a few things that had changed in the intervening centuries between that memory and now that shattered that illusion.

The first was the addition of new furniture to the room. Before, the candelabras and an old pendulum clock hanging on one of the dusty walls had been the only fixtures. But now there was a huge map of the world spanning the right wall, littered with thousands of tiny red push pins. The three wooden thrones I'd seen earlier were flush against the flat, back wall—each occupied with one of the three Volturi leaders, Aro, Marcus and Caius. And there was a low bench off to one side, where the two fair-haired wives, Sulpicia and Athenodora sat, tending Aro's rambunctious twin daughters.

The second thing I noticed was the number of people in here. It seemed like too many for the size of this room—and indeed most of the bodies I saw were pressed tightly together. But at the same time the number seemed too small.

I swore there had been at least thirty-five vampires in the turret room four days ago. And yet this group today—though Alice had insisted every single member of the Volturi was supposed to be present—had only twenty-four members. Even if I included the three kings, their wives, and their children, that only brought the number up to thirty-one.

Which was a little worrying. Had some vampires left the Volturi because of me?

My multi-tasking brain conjured up a thousand theories at once. Most of them were silly and paranoid. Did they really hate me so much, without even knowing me, that they would abandon their coven? Do they not trust me, because of my connection, no matter how brief, with Carlisle? Or do they think I'm some kind of spy? That Aro and Alice were lying about the upcoming calamity?

But just as I was beginning to narrow it down, realizing that fear of what Alice had predicted was a much more rational reason, that's when I noticed the third thing. Which was how overwhelming it was to be in the presence of so many immortals with my new cadre of senses.

At first, I was sure that the smell of smoke and melting wax wafting off the candles would be the strongest scent. Or maybe the scent of centuries of dirt and dust. But the aroma of twenty-four vampires all pressed in together was by far the most overpowering smell.

And suddenly I thought I understood Jacob's complaints. The smell was so bright. And so sweet. Almost too sweet.

The sight of them all was a lot to take in too. My new eyes didn't unfocus anymore, so all their impossibly perfect forms leapt out at me at once. I was bombarded with a bumpy sea of dark cloaks—each individual fiber of fabric distinguishable. The details of too many flawless, pale faces. And twenty-four pairs of unblinking crimson eyes.

Everyone was staring at me, I realized then. And I couldn't help but flinch.

Alice gently pinched my arm. I guessed that was her way of trying to tell me to be polite.

Deciding to heed her command, I directed my eyes solidly forward. Until they landed on the most important member of the Volturi. The man sitting in the middle throne, with two elegant black eyebrows slanted my way. And his equally dark, pin-straight hair coming to a sharp point on his forehead.

"Ah, Isabella joins us formally at last!" Aro sang, rising fluidly from his seat.

Aro had exchanged his bloodstained robes for something a bit more modern—a smart, all-black suit, and polished Italian leather dress shoes. Though he still wore the same silvery, V-shaped pendant as everyone else. And there was one other ancient touch—a cloak of his own draped over his shoulders, that was so black, I felt like I was peering into the void of space.

"Alice, dear, if you would please, take your position?" Aro said, sweeping a hand toward the huddle of Volturi crowded in the small, rectangular space.

Alice gave me a sad little nod then—unhappy to leave me behind—before skipping off to enmesh herself with the others. But I wasn't really sure what Aro meant by "position" until I gave the mass of cloaks another appraisal.

As it so happened the guard wasn't crowded together randomly. They were standing in five neat, narrow rows, with five or six vampires in each, facing three thrones. There were several gaps in the third through fifth rows—places left deliberately empty, which suggested that the vampires who had once filled them had left. And there was a tiny gradient from one end to the other—a gradient so slight human eyes would never catch it—between the darkest black cloaks, which were clustered near the front, and the lighter black cloaks—colors that almost looked grey to my new eyes—near the back.

Alice seemed to decide that she belonged somewhere in the second row—next to Renata and Aro's other dark-haired female bodyguard. But her cloak—even dusty and old as it was—was too dark to fit in there. And when Aro saw her choice, he chuckled and shook his head.

"Oh, dearest Alice, you are too modest," Aro chided gently. "Up front, please."

Alice made a face—like she was being forced to eat lima beans—and reluctantly moved into the first row where she stuck out a little less. But she stayed at the very far left. Ranking herself as low as she could, since it appeared the hierarchy placed the highest-ranking members on the right.

Aro chuckled again—this time almost a real laugh. And gestured for Alice to move up again. "No Alice. The very front," he said like he was coaching a child.

Alice went suddenly deathly still. "Pardon?"

And one of the short figures occupying that right-most spot—Jane—turned to glare at her.

I tensed. I had fully expected Alice to face-plant and start screaming. Jane was staring at her exactly the same way she'd been looking at Edward four days ago—when she'd made him writhe on the floor.

Though, thankfully there wasn't any potency in Jane's gaze today. Her glare was as harmless as anyone else's. For the moment, at least.

Aro, who seemed oblivious to the ire between the two girls, went on like nothing was happening. "Alice, do you really believe that so much has changed while you were gone?"

Alice dodged his question. "I'm happy where I'm at."

But Aro too, ignored her. "Surely you cannot think that I am angry with you still for your extended absence? That I would punish you with a lower rank when you were only doing what was in all of our best interests…?"

Alice shook her head. "Not at all. I just don't think I'm all that special."

Aro looked askance at Alice. "Have I not explained to you how crucial your gift is to our organization? How irreplaceable you are? How utterly lost we are without your guidance? How much we desperately need you? How much it pleasesme to have you here?"

Jane gritted her teeth with every appraisal Aro heaped on Alice. Her little white hands balled into fists. And she started shaking.

Alice on the other hand looked like she would have broken out in a nervous sweat, if she'd been human. The line of worry creasing her brow was spreading steadily across her whole face—wrinkling her petite features with anxiety.

Ever mindful of Jane's disapproval, she sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah, you've only told me a million times."

"Then please, Alice," Aro begged in a downy voice. "Humor me."

Alice made a quiet, frustrated sound. "Oh, alright."

With a look of extreme reluctance, Alice obediently marched over to where Jane stood, and plopped herself down to the right of her. She moved quickly and decisively, seeing no need to drag it out. And all the while, she refused to turn and look at the seething thirteen-year-old at her side.

And I didn't blame her. Jane's rage was barely under control as it was. She jittered with fury, like her whole, tiny body was bursting with it. And she was very nearly hissing at the girl—low rasps of air coming out through her teeth.

I watched the pair stand next to each other with considerable apprehension. Alice stood ramrod still, and her eyes were glossy, like she was dissociating heavily—choosing to peer into a more hopeful future, rather than deal with the current, unpleasant reality. And I was so engaged in watching to make sure that Jane didn't decide to rip Alice's head off while Alice was staring into the 4th dimension, that I wasn't prepared for what came next.

"Isabella?" Aro called quietly.

I started a little at the sound of his voice all the same—jerking involuntarily and supernaturally fast. And automatically everyone in the room tensed. Like I was a feral wildcat, and they didn't want to accidentally trigger my territorial side.

I suffused with embarrassment. "Sorry," I mumbled. But even that pathetic noise sounded like singing.

"It is quite alright, dear," Aro promised me, making a dismissive wave at my fears. "Getting used to your new body and the way it moves will take time. But now," he said, changing the subject, "Did Alice tell you about our customs?"

"My erm, induction, you mean?" I asked uncertainly. "Not much. She said you'd walk me through it?"

Aro grinned broadly. "Of course." Then, noting my apprehensive gaze, he added, "It is really quite simple, Isabella. First, you introduce yourself—tell us a few interesting facts. And then everyone else will introduce themselves in order, from greatest to least," he swept a hand down the rows of cloaked Volturi. "Then I will decide where I think you fit in the rankings, give you the appropriate shade of cloak, and of course our insignia," he gestured to the V-shaped pendant resting over his unbeating heart. "And that is all. Any questions?"

I shook my head. Induction into the Volturi was pretty straightforward, actually.

Aro clapped his hands together, thrilled that I understood so quickly. "Excellent! Then let's begin, shall we?"

I swallowed—this situation reminded me too much of my first day at Forks. All that embarrassing nonsense about introductions. And today there was the added threat—that a bunch of violent, red-eyed vampires were my audience, rather than a collective of bored high-school students.

But I was determined not to let my social anxiety defeat me. If I could commit to try and save the supernatural world, despite having no clue how I was going to do that, then surely a little self-introduction couldn't be too hard, could it?

After Aro's words, all of the cloaked figures in the room were abruptly staring at me again—which made me stammer out my next words awkwardly. But even inarticulate, my voice sounded beautiful, rather than irritating. And I wondered if it was even possible for a vampire's voice to be annoying. I was beginning to doubt it.

"Hi! I'm Bella—er, I mean Isabella Swan," I corrected upon seeing Aro's eyes narrow with disapproval.

He smiled at me when I changed it, and I felt a little sour. I guess he really wanted me to go by my full name. As much as I hated it.

Trying not to let it bother me too much—a name change was a minor annoyance, in light of everything else—I went on.

"And I... uh…" I wasn't exactly sure how to phrase the next bit. "…I have the power to resist mental powers." I settled on. It was accurate enough. "It only works for me for now," I felt it was necessary to add. "But I might be able to protect others in the future. Maybe."

I shrugged lamely after I was finished. And looked pointedly at the floor.

"Very good," Aro purred appreciatively. "A succinct, and accurate summary."

I was glad he'd liked it. That made one of us.

"Of course, you have already met myself, and my two brothers," Aro said.

He gestured to where Caius and Marcus sat, to his left and his right, respectively. Marcus' expression, framed by waves of ebony locks, was as lackluster as usual. And Caius, though I could tell it wasn't directed at anyone in particular, was as salty as the shade of his hair.

I nodded.

"And our wives."

Aro gestured to the low bench where his and Caius' wives, Athenodora and Sulpicia were sitting. They both looked up then, and smiled genially. Sulpicia, the pale blonde with a perfect, full-figure, didn't do anything. But Athenodora, the thinner one with long, lustrous waves of strawberry blonde hair, gave me a tiny wave.

I inclined my head ever so slightly—the tiniest of bows. I figured it was appropriate, given their station. And the two beamed at the action, which I took as a sign that I hadn't totally screwed up.

"And my children," Aro said further.

He pointed to the two tiny, identical little girls playing at the wives' feet. And I nodded again while giving them another thorough inspection.

At first, I'd thought their resemblance was strongest to their father. They shared almost none of Sulpicia's features, aside from her thicker lips. But as my perfected vampire gaze roved over them now, and they stopped their frolicking to stare back at me with wide, crimson eyes, I realized they were almost perfect, miniature copies of Didyme. And a spasm of pain rippled through my heart as I remembered what Aro had said earlier.

That Didyme was dead. That an accident had killed both her and her son.

It was completely tragic—to think of these girl's compassionate aunt dying, leaving Marcus, her mate, totally bereft. But it was just as perplexing.

I still didn't understand how an accident of any kind could kill two vampires. And to make matters even more suspicious that same "accident" for some reason hadn't severed the emotional tie Marcus had to Didyme. He could still see Didyme's bright line of love connected to him with his powers. Something that wasn't supposed to happen, after death, I had learned.

His power's only mistake.

"And, of course, you already know me," Alice piped in, since she was next in line.

Her bubbly announcement jolted me out of my thoughts. But I didn't look at her. Instead my gaze turned towards Aro.

"Of course," Aro breathed exultantly. "But if you would please, for the benefit of everyone else?"

Alice snorted. "They know who I am," she said, gesturing flippantly toward the entire guard.

Jane tensed at Alice's side.

Aro pouted. "Not our newest recruits."

Alice groaned. "Fine."

Then she swiveled to face the crowd. "Hi everyone, I'm Alice. I see possible futures. It's not an exact science. Please don't ask for any guarantees," she pleaded. "My mistakes are frequent and flagrant. And I do not deserve this spot."

Aro frowned cavernously. He obviously did not like the self-deprecating way Alice was describing herself. But before he could say anything, Alice went on.

"I know you disagree now, Aro," she gave as a caveat. "But you'll come around to my way of thinking someday."

Aro looked unconvinced. But rather than protest, he merely raised an eyebrow before he turned to Jane.

Jane wasted no time stepping forward, her slim, androgynous form moving with the perfect fluidity that came from centuries of practice. When she came to a stop, her tiny, round chin was held high. And I noticed then that she'd done something different with her hair. Instead of lying flat, she'd spiked the short, dirty blonde locks in a manner reminiscent of Alice's usual style. Probably in a futile attempt to curry Aro's favor.

"I am Jane. My ability is pain. I am an invaluable asset to this coven and have been for over a thousand years. So take that into consideration."

Her words came out with practiced neutrality in a total monotone. But it wasn't hard to hear the underlying message. Don't cross me.

Jane's lovely twin—a boy with short hair a shade darker than hers, and slightly less full lips—stepped forward next. His demeanor was only slightly less haughty.

"I am Alec, Jane's twin brother. I have the ability to cut off the senses. To make a person blind, deaf, unable to touch, taste, sense temperature or direction. And I do this with a mist I emit from my fingers. It creeps, until it incapacitates you."

I started at this information. I'd had some inkling before that Alec must possess a talent equally as scary as his sister's. But I'd naively assumed it would be something similar—something that operated invisibly, only inside your head. I'd never imagined something like this.

A mist. Alec created a sensory depriving if its effects were only an illusion… Would I be immune to something so tangible?

While I debated with myself, back and forth, the next Volturi in line, after these two formidable, perpetual, thirteen-year-olds, stepped forward. It was Chelsea—the light brown-haired woman who'd helped me get over my unhealthy attachment to Edward. And that was a revelation in and of itself. That Aro really saw her power as that valuable to the coven.

"I'm Chelsea," she informed everyone in the same monotone Jane had used earlier. "My gift allows me to strengthen and weaken emotional ties. I have limits of course. I cannot cure potent hatred. Destroy true love. Or invent affection that does not exist. But beyond this, my abilities are almost limitless."

Alec snorted—he obviously thought Chelsea was playing herself up a little. But Chelsea ignored him and went on.

"On occasion, I help our masters separate the innocent in a coven from the guilty, so that they may be spared. But mostly, I simply help us coexist," she explained, gesturing to the guard.

Coexist. I wondered at the woman's phrasing. Did she plan to use her powers on me again, to help me feel more amiable about the other Volturi? Maybe a bit later, when I had more positive emotions to work with?

I tried to feel nervous about that. To resent the idea of anyone messing with my emotional ties. But I just couldn't muster up the feeling. I doubted Chelsea was trying to use her power maliciously. And she had admitted herself that she didn't fundamentally alter anything important—she had to have something to work with. An emotional starting point. Something she could then milk for all it was worth.

And, like how Jasper sometimes used his gifts to calm down the Cullens when it looked like they might fight, what Chelsea did to smooth things over in her own coven, couldn't be counted as bad either. She was just trying to keep the peace. And help people who might make stupid, life-threatening decisions—like I might have been tempted to, had I still been tied to Edward—rethink their unhelpful loyalties.

I beamed at her now. And she gave me an uneasy smile back, before the next person in line, stepped forward.

It was Vera. One of the few survivors from Carlisle's experiments over three-hundred years ago. And today, she looked exactly the same as she did in Aro's distant, crystalline memories. Average height. And pin-straight chocolate brown hair that fell to an astonishing length past her knees.

But there was one difference. Instead of wearing the slightly awed expression she always wore around Aro, she was glowering warily at me.

I wasn't Edward, but if I had to take a guess, I thought she was worried that simply by knowing Carlisle, that I agreed with what he'd subjected her to all those centuries ago. That I was dangerous by association.

I desperately wished to assuage her fears. And I almost opened my mouth to speak.

But she beat me to the punch.

"I'm Vera. My power is healing. It takes a great toll on me. Restoring a single limb can drain all of my strength. And I must consume many humans to restore it. But I can, provided I am given limitless nutrition, heal almost any injury, no matter how dire, as long as a single cell of the original organism remains."

I couldn't help it. My mouth gaped open. Such an incredible power.

And then—though I felt awful for thinking it—I wondered why she wasn't first. Bringing back an entire person from just a single cell? Wasn't that miraculous enough to warrant the very top ranking? Wasn't that more impressive than Jane and Alec's incapacitating, offensive gifts? Or even Alice's ability to peer into the future?

I looked to Aro, hoping the confusion on my face asked the question for me.

And it did. But his answer was just as non-verbal as my question. He flicked his wrist—a tiny, almost imperceptible movement—in the direction of Vera's already darkening eyes, the only pair among the guard that wasn't a vibrant, almost glowing crimson. And suddenly I understood.

Vera might have been bestowed the honor of first place. But her power had too high of a cost.

We were onto the second row now. Rather than flanking his sides, as they usually did, Aro's two dark-haired bodyguards stood on the very right—the highest ranked position. And they both stepped forward at the same time.

Both women were very similar. They both had black hair, spilling over their shoulders in long, rippling waves. They had the same, roman noses—like they were sisters. And both were pretty short—though not as short as Alice—at 5' and 5' 2".

The shorter woman, I recognized as the same woman who had often accompanied Aro on his visits to the library. The other Christian vampire, Renata. But the taller woman was new—not the same as the other one who'd guarded Aro in the 1700s. She was a stranger to me. And that, combined with her relatively high rank, made me curious.

"I'm Renata," the shorter woman, who was very first in the second row said. "And my gift is the ability to repel attackers. I am what is known as a shield. I can plant thoughts in the minds of others who are charging, and send them confused, in another direction. Make them forget why they were attacking in the first place."

My eyebrows lifted at this. A useful gift for a bodyguard, I thought. But again, I couldn't help but wonder, Can she repel me?

Renata introduced her companion. "And this is my great-grand-niece, Makenna."

Makenna snorted at the appellation. "Make that twenty-five greats."

Renata rolled her eyes gently, like the distinction hardly mattered. But I was flabbergasted. It wasn't hard to see that the two were related. But I'd never imagined that one of Renata's human siblings had a descendancy long enough, to produce another woman-made-vampire, some twenty-five generations later. So many bloodlines died out before then.

"Master Aro sensed a certain protectiveness in me, before I was changed," Makenna went on, speaking for herself now. "Something similar to what great-aunt Renata has. I guess it must run in the family," she said wryly. "But I'm nowhere near as powerful. I'm not even sure my 'power' is enough to be called a 'power' at all. I might be able to make an enemy hesitate before attacking. But I can't stop one that's already charging."

Makenna shrugged toward Aro, like he thought the ancient should demote her. But Aro simply smiled genially back. And I couldn't help but think Makenna, like Alice, was underestimating herself.

Caius' two, tiny, female, Asian bodyguards were next. Ichika, and Niko, I learned were their names. They had no special talents to speak of—something I got the sense Caius preferred. But they were trained in pretty much every martial art. And boasted of easily taking down vampires three-times their size. Something I didn't doubt for a second, given how their small arms and legs rippled with muscle when they moved.

Then Marcus' two bodyguards finished off the second row. Unlike his brothers, Marcus had chosen two men to guard him—men named Kofe and Wambua. But like Caius, Marcus had also chosen vampires who possessed no supernatural gifts. Though rather than being tiny, waifish warriors, they were huge and brawny, like Felix. But with deep umber skin greyed slightly by vampirism, and African features.

The third row started with Demetri. And when the thin vampire with shoulder-length black hair stepped forward and told us of his powers, I couldn't help but feel like Aro had messed up again with his rankings.

"My name is Demetri. I am the Volturi's tracker. I catch the essence of a person when I am in their presence. And once I have obtained it, I can follow this essence anywhere in the world."

A tracker? Wasn't that better than what the bodyguards did?

I thought it was cooler, at least.

But maybe Aro had a good reason for keeping Demetri back. If his earlier words to Alice were any indication, loyalty could affect the rankings just as much, if not more than actual skill. So maybe the secret to Demetri's placement is insubordination?

I couldn't be sure. And I resolved not to make hasty judgements when the next person in line stepped forward.

It was a small, dark-haired girl with pale, sandy skin. She introduced herself as Corin. And then she mumbled, in a thick accent, something about having the power of addictive contentment. I wasn't sure what that was all about. Her explanation didn't really clarify. But the word addictive set off alarms in my head. So, while she looked pleasant enough, I decided it wouldn't hurt to keep my distance.

Next was Heidi. And she was just as lovely and distracting as ever. With her radiant bronze skin, beautifully sculpted mahogany tresses, and Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition worthy body. And though it appeared she was trying to be more modest today—covering as much skin as she could with a long, dowdy, black dress that tried to hide all of her curves. I still caught myself staring again.

It was like her skin was magnetized. And my eyes were copper bolts, physically unable to pull themselves away.

"I am Heidi. Some of you may know me as our fisher," she said, flashing a dazzling, conspiratorial smile.

I wasn't sure why, but that simple gesture made me want to follow her anywhere. And it seemed to have a similar effect on most of the rest of the guard. Most people in the room—Aro included—were openly admiring her, almost undressing her with their eyes.

Heidi continued as though nothing was happening—like Demetri's gaze wasn't raking over her in a totally lewd way. I guessed she was used to that kind of treatment. That she'd endured it for hundreds of years.

"My ability is a subtle one, but potent," she told us.

I tried to listen, rather than just stare stupidly at her. But it was hard.

"Physical allure," she purred the words. "It's rather hypnotic, and useful for bringing in food."

She licked her lips then, and I almost forgot my horror at what she was saying. The motion was so sensual, I felt like shouldn't be allowed to see it. My icy vampire skin flamed hot at the sight. And I felt a funny little jolt of electricity shoot down my spine.

"It can also be used in battle, to distract the enemy," she finished, winking devilishly.

We all gasped then. And a few vampires even clutched their unbeating hearts—like they couldn't handle the eroticism anymore. But a moment later, when Heidi re-enmeshed herself with the other black-cloaked bodies, finally the spell was broken. And we all shook ourselves to get rid of the vestiges of arousal plaguing us.

After Heidi, there was an open space on the floor between her and Felix. And as my eyes turned toward it, Aro finally addressed the issue of the missing guard members.

"Unfortunately, some of our more transitory members have decided to leave us since Alice's return," he said, pointing to the empty space. "Ebele left on the first night." Then, pointing to another, larger space in the fourth row, "Nikolai and Olga left the next night." Finally, he pointed to the last gap, in the fifth row. "And Geraldo and Surya left yesterday morning."

There was a low murmur of malcontent in the crowd as Aro mentioned their names. He let it go on for a few minutes, letting the guard's anger and disgust fester, before he finally raised his hand.

At once the guard fell silent.

"Yes, yes I too am quite sad to see them go," Aro shared, mirroring his guard's disappointment as all eyes honed raptly in on him. "But they were not anticipating facing anything of this magnitude," he offered as their excuse. "They were only interested in the prestige of the position when it was safe."

Caius snorted with derision on his throne. And I couldn't help but agree.

So, they only wanted to wear the cloak when they didn't have to fight a battle they might lose? Cowards.

"While I am disappointed, however, please do not give them any trouble if you see them again," Aro instructed. "As you are all aware, we are a volunteer organization. If any of you, at any time, are unhappy with your lot, you are free to leave."

All of the guard member's heads bobbed in near-unison, to show they understood. Then suddenly, they went still, and stared, unblinkingly ahead.

"Is there anyone else who wishes not to stay and fight?" Aro asked. He spread his arms wide to clarify that everyone here was perfectly free to follow in their suit without fear of punishment.

I flinched where I stood. And looked around me with wide eyes.

Were any of them seriously just going to walk away?

Aro waited for a few minutes, to give everyone ample time to come to a decision. At first, nobody moved. And I felt a bit better. But then, to my disappointment, suddenly, two figures in the back row exchanged glances surreptitiously, before they summarily broke from the crowd.

"Octavia? Hippolytus?" Aro called after them before they had managed to take even two steps.

The pair froze in place. Then they peered guiltily under the shade of their hoods back at their master.

"You intend to leave us?" Aro asked, sounding suddenly heartbroken by the idea.

The pair nodded, slowly, hesitantly. They looked quite tense, even obscured as they were under their charcoal-colored cloaks. And I guessed that they must be fearing some kind of retribution might be in order for their decision to leave.

Though, from what I could see of Aro's expression, I doubted that. He was deeply hurt. But not angry.

"And why might that be?" Aro queried.

"Because it is as you said," a female voice answered from under one of the dark hoods. "We are not prepared to fight the battle Alice has shown us. When your daughters shared Alice's vision of what it would be like…"

She trailed off, shivering at the memory. And I felt a sudden sinking sensation in my stomach. That bad?

"And where will you go?" Aro pressed.

The woman splayed a pale hand over her chest. "I, for one, intend to rejoin my old coven in Rome. They still consider me family, and would welcome me home."

While I marveled at this information—she had another coven to go back to?—Aro nodded, taking it all in placidly. Then, he turned to look at the other figure, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"And you, Hippolytus?"

The man sighed. "My reason is much the same. As for where I will go, I have a mate in Greece to return to. Sharing time between here and there is already too difficult." He winced, recalling the struggle. "And this calamity has only made me remember how important he is to me."

Aro nodded again, understanding. But while he was taking this rather well, I was flabbergasted.

Hippolytus has a mate in another country? So Alice isn't the only one to have a mate somewhere else?

I tried not to let my shock show. Really, it should have been obvious that someone's mate somewhere in the world might not want to stay in Volterra. Even if that meant being apart for longer periods of time. After all, living in Volterra meant being in close proximity to Aro. And if I hadn't had my gift to protect me, I wouldn't want to spend any significant length of time around him.

But I couldn't help but gape a little anyway. The idea of being so physically far away from one's beloved made me feel a sympathetic pang in my chest. And suddenly, I didn't feel like all those who had left deserved the title of coward.

Perhaps they were afraid. But, if Octavia and Hippolytus were any indication, maybe some also had other things that were more important to them than the abstract ideals of the Volturi. And I couldn't really fault them for putting family first.

It was a noble thing to do.

After the two gave their explanations, Aro flicked his wrist, ever so slightly, shooing the pair toward the door. And without another word, Octavia and Hippolytus bowed. Then they unfastened their cloaks, leaving them in a neat pile on the floor, before turning and filing quickly out of the room.

They kept their necklaces—I noticed the silver Vs still gleaming on their chests. But Aro didn't seem to think that was an issue. Instead of demanding they return them, he was scanning the remainder of the crowd to see if anyone else planned to leave.

However, to his and my relief, the rest of the vampires in the room remained firmly in place. And after another minute of painfully tense silence, Aro made another small hand gesture. Then, acting according to some cue I didn't understand, the ceremony continued, as though it hadn't been interrupted.

Felix and another brawny, vampire I only faintly recognized from four days ago, stepped forward suddenly. The other vampire, who had a dark complexion, and long, thick, dreadlocks, I learned was named Santiago. And both of them were vampires selected to be part of the Volturi's fighting force solely because of their incredible size and strength. Felix was 6' 7" and about twice as thick as a normal person. And Santiago, while not quite as tall, was equally burly.

Killing machines, they called themselves. And I shuddered, believing them.

The fourth row, still short a member, was full of strangers. A small Japanese woman named Yuki. A Pakistani man named Kadir. Xavier, who was African-American. And Petra, a French vampire with ivory skin smothered in freckles. I stared at her the longest, wondering why she was the first vampire I'd seen with them.

They each gave a short description of what their abilities were as well. But it was all weirdly speculative. And their powers were all so… subtle, I wasn't sure they had powers at all. They played them up as best as they could, of course. But it was a bit like Rosalie trying to say her beauty was a gift. Or Emmett his strength. Or Esme her motherly love.

Sure, those things were nice. But were they really superpowers?

When they were finished, I realized there was only one member of the Volturi guard left. Standing alone on the very left side of the otherwise empty fifth row was a thin, scrawny-looking fellow. He had the lightest skin in the room aside from Caius—who I was starting to suspect might be albino. And a mop of untidy, platinum blonde hair.

He shambled forward awkwardly, avoiding Aro's gaze—a gaze I was surprised to note had turned suddenly cold. And muttered his introduction abashedly, in the direction of Chelsea instead.

"Hello, um, I'm Afton. And my power is…"

Aro's fists clenched irritably on the armrests of his throne. Afton flinched and trailed off as the sound reached everyone's ears. And it took him a few moments to gather the courage to speak again.

"…Well, most people think it's more annoying than anything really," he added in a vain attempt to placate Aro. "You see, I can make myself, and anyone who stands directly behind me invisible, but um, it only really works when I'm standing still. And only when humans are watching. Anyone with a sharp focus—and of course, that's all of us," he chuckled awkwardly, "—can see a shimmering outline that gives away my position."

Afton sighed heavily, like he was disappointed in himself. And slunk back into line with a guilty expression.

I almost felt bad for him. Aro—judging by his pinched facial expression now—clearly wished he could be rid of him. And that knowledge obviously weighed heavily on Afton.

But I didn't know him well enough to know if Aro's annoyance was warranted or not. Hell, I might hate him too, in a few months.

And I wasn't too worried about him, anyway. I knew from Aro's memories, and I could see now, that Chelsea absolutely adored the awkward, Scandinavian dork. She smiled warmly at him, her crimson eyes flooded with devotion. And Aro wasn't about to disappoint Chelsea. Her power was too important to lose.

"Now Isabella," Aro said, all the coldness in his face gone, replaced with splendid, sunny warmth. "Where do you think you ought to be placed? Now that you have met all of us?"

I gulped. Aro was asking me? Wasn't he supposed to decide?

My eyes jerked up at him, confusion clearly written all over my face. But his expression brokered no room for argument. So, with a frown, my eyes flicked again, over the rows of bodies, trying to decide where I belonged.

I knew it was smarter to underestimate myself, than to seem too cocky. It would be humiliating to be asked to move down. But I also knew that Alice's predictions would elevate me quite a bit in Aro's mind. So, after what felt like mere seconds—my new vampire brain worked very quickly—I pointed shakily toward the end of the first row. The same place Alice had initially tried to put herself.

"After Vera," I said.

Aro laughed merrily at my choice. Then snapped his fingers.

At once, Sulpicia and Athenodora rose from their little bench and walked up towards the three thrones. I wasn't sure what the women were planning to do, until Athenodora pulled a long, flat box from the shadow of her cloak, and drew out of it a long piece of black fabric.

Sulpicia helped her shake off any dust. And I inspected the fabric carefully as it billowed, like rippling ink, in the women's pale hands.

It was too dark—not nearly the void-black of Aro's cloak, of course. But nor was it anywhere near the dull charcoal color that Felix and the others on his row wore. Or the near-grey of Afton's dingy cloak.

It was practically the same shade as Alice's cloak, I realized with a start. Maybe a hair or two lighter.

Once Sulpicia and Athenodora were finished dusting it off, they held it out expectantly, as though they expected me to come forward and slip inside it. And I decided, after earning a brief nod from Alice, that it was safe to follow that cue.

I tried not to think about the twenty-two pairs of eyes boring into me as I zipped up to the Volturi thrones. And tried not to worry about what my face looked like, or if my mascara was smudged, when the two gorgeous women settled the cape over my shoulders, and did up the little clasps for me. It was hard enough just moving. My new body, while much faster, wasn't any more coordinated than my old one—I noticed with no small measure of chagrin.

When the wives were finished dressing me up, they spun me around to face Aro directly. He pulled out a small black jewelry box from some unseen pocket then, and opened it with a dramatic flourish in front of me.

I already knew what to expect. But I still gasped when the little box snapped open. Inside, resting on a cushion of lush, red velvet, was the same silvery Volturi pendant the rest of the guard was already wearing. It gleamed prettily under the flickering orange candlelight. And the rubies set at either end sparkled with the same intensity as Aro's eager eyes.

"Go on," Aro urged. "Take it."

My hand lurched out to do just that. Then hesitated over the necklace.

"What's the matter, dearest Isabella?" Aro asked in a beautiful, feathery voice.

"I'm worried I might break it," I confessed.

Aro winced knowingly. He'd already seen what my horrible lack of coordination combined with my new supernatural strength could do. What kind of ghastly messes I could make with just a tiny twitch of my hands….

"Allow me, then," he said, lifting the pendant delicately out of its container. "In the coming weeks, however, you should endeavor to gain some restraint, I think," he whispered against my skin, as he reached around my neck to do the clasp. "You will need to learn not to break everything you touch," he said, before letting the pendant fall, secured, against my chest.

I waited to feel the familiar sensation of my cheeks burning. But the blood flushing them earlier was all gone—absorbed into my system completely now.

And for once, I felt a rush of gratitude for my new, inhuman nature. I'd always hated blushing. It was almost more embarrassing than the embarrassment that caused it itself.

"Now go take your place," Aro instructed.

He pointed, not to the position I'd indicated earlier, but to a new gap in the middle of the front row that had opened up between Chelsea and Alec.

I felt instant relief when I realized Aro wasn't going to antagonize Jane any further by putting me in front of her. But I felt a stab of guilt for the look on Chelsea's face—a look of betrayal—as I slipped as graciously as I could into line to the right of her.

I tried to give her an apologetic look. After all, it wasn't my choice to place myself ahead of her. But she was staring pointedly at the floor, her mouth pulled in to a grimace. And her tiny white fists trembled furiously at her sides.

I swallowed guiltily and looked up. My eyes sought out Aro again, hoping to level him with a glare for putting me in this awkward position. I didn't need to be making enemies of the other guard members on day one.

But as I looked, I saw something else that disturbed me.

Marcus' usually bored face was alight with suspicion. And I couldn't help but shake a little myself as I watched his cold, red eyes pass over the crowd before him slowly. It took a lot to make Marcus feel anything this strongly. And as his gaze paused for a fleeting moment, once near the back row, and again up front, I couldn't help but wonder what was causing this reaction.

Was he seeing something with his power? Some relationship bonds that were not as they should be?

Anything was possible, I realized. And without Edward's gift I was blind to what was going on inside the ancient vampire's head. It could just as easily have been nothing. Or a fluke—since apparently his gift did make mistakes. But my stomach dropped just the same.

I don't like this.

I don't like this at all.