"Ah…"

The ancient's face fell, and his hand flew upwards, curving around his ultra-smooth chin. "You are quite certain?" he asked again.

"Quite, my lord."

He sighed. "Oh, I am sorry to hear that." His hand dropped to his side again. "So very, very sorry."

The woman tapped her heels impatiently. "I have the estimate, my lord, if you wish to see it."

Aro sighed again. "Ah, yes. We mustn't neglect that. Not in the least…" He rose from his chair, and she quickly curtsied, falling behind him as he glided slowly from the room. They continued in this way, the master and the servant, through a maze of lights, paintings, and winding aisles, until she coughed very slightly.

"This door, Heidi?" he asked.

"Yes… I think."

Aro entered. It was almost pitch black, but that is nothing to an immortal. His sharp eyes scanned every corner, 'til at last they found what he was searching for. A cry of delight broke from his lips. "Oh, it is too perfect!"

Heidi followed him closely. "You like it, my lord?"

The vampire ran his fingers along the wood. "Very good," he whispered. "I declare, Lignin gets better ever year."

Heidi pulled a small clipboard from her pocket. Her face was hidden in shadow. "I have it all here—price and all—as well as the material wood. Is it long enough, my lord?"

"Yes. Better to have it too long than too short." He smiled up at her. "You see? I do know about these things."

A hollow laugh. "Of course."

"Make it satin. Silver and crimson, with an added varnish on the lid. I want it to be…" Aro lifted a white hand, searching for a word. "Stunning. Regal."

Heidi stepped forward, scribbling down notes, and made another quick measurement. The tape coiled about her fingers like it was alive.

Her master was sighing. "I confess I wish legend attached itself more closely to our kind," he said regretfully. "It must be so luxurious to sleep in one of these." His hand came down tenderly on the coffin—for it was a coffin—as if imagining his own banished rest. "But then, we should fear the sun, as well. And I do love it so."

His red eyes were dreamy, clouded. Then, with a gesture, he motioned her away. "Not a word," he whispered after her. "Remember…"

"You have my discretion, my lord."

"Be assured that I do, Heidi."

She closed the door, leaving Aro to his semi-morbid thoughts. He bent down, brushing the gleaming coffin with his lips. "Yes," he whispered to himself. "You will lie there, my sweet, surrounded by the best I can give you, because you never accepted what I gave you in life." The red orbs dimmed, almost compassionately. "Oh, Aster. You poor, foolish, stubborn child…"


Renata sobbed quietly, wiping at her dry eyes. The coffin lay between them, but Marcus barely seemed to acknowledge it. He had retreated into the deepest part of himself. Grief had not been this fresh; no, not for many years. He was not ready to unearth it... nor would he. There is only so much pain you can experience in a lifetime, even with an immortal's self-control.

It was true that she was only a human. But he would miss her.

To distract himself, the ancient rested a hand gently on Renata's shoulder. "This was inevitable," he whispered to her.

She glowered up at him, and he stepped back in surprise. He'd never seen gentle, sweet Renata angry before. "I am sorry," he said.

Her face softened then. "Just don't say that," she pleaded. "Please. It's too early…"

She trailed off, gazing back at the coffin, but Marcus understood. He touched her shoulder, and this time she didn't brush him off. They could have been statues, standing there in complete silence. There was no lengthening of the shadows as day became night, but the candles on the wall flickered a little weaker. Renata shuddered as one died out, but she did not disrupt the silence. It was respect for Aster.

"Why?" she said finally, after another hour had passed.

Marcus glanced at her.

"Why must I—and you—feel this way? Why do we not have the immunity of our kind?"

"We are not the only ones with empathy, Renata."

She bowed her head. "In the coven? Yes, we are."

"Aro felt Aster's loss, as well." The words sounded hollow, even to Marcus. "Or at least he believes he does."

"He doesn't," she interrupted. "He doesn't… he can't…"

Marcus watched her struggling features, and sympathy swelled in his breast. She surpassed all of them in her loyalty for Aro, even Jane. She respected him considerably. What must she be thinking now, after all that passed? How could she justify Aster's death in a way that she could live with? The transcendent shades of emotion flitted over her face; grief following anger, anger following pain.

"Marcus," she whispered finally.

He turned to her. "Yes?"

"What was her gift?" Her lips trembled. "What was it Aro wanted so badly?"

The ancient shook his head. "To think I started all this… It was nothing phenomenal, Renata, like your gift, or even lethal like Jane's. I saw inside her, though only for a moment. I sensed her, and Aro latched onto the fantasy with more enthusiasm than I could have expected. It became not so much a desire for Aster's talent, but a mere test of endurance. Would Aro have let her die, do you suppose, if her gift had been truly valuable?"

"But what did you see?" the little vampire pleaded. "What could possibly have fascinated him, for however short a time?"

Marcus almost smiled. "I saw her strength," he said softly. "I saw her detachment from others, although it was Aro who later told me why. I saw her beauty as a person, her courage." He drew a deep breath. "It was that distrust of people that attracted him most, I think. He saw none of her goodness."

"Perhaps he did," Renata said. "He always told me he thought she was a beautiful girl."

Marcus looked at her. "That beautiful girl now lies before us."

A shudder passed through Renata's body. She covered her little face. "Oh, I can't bear it!" she cried helplessly. "I can't defend him… I can't…"

Marcus watched her sadly. "One human among many," he whispered. "You'd wonder why we cared so much."

"That's what I was asking you. Why this empathy? Why any feeling at all?"

"Surely you don't wish to be less human?"

"No… I don't know what I want." She gazed up with agonized eyes. "Good God, Marcus, we've been hardened for centuries, eons of time. How could there be a spark of feeling left?"

He looked away. His pale hand brushed down the coffin edge, then traveled slowly up to his waistcoat. A single flower, white and gleaming, appeared in his fingers. Despite Renata's soft moan, he opened the lid, laying the flower on Aster's lips. He looked up at her then, and there was something strange about his eyes.

"Thank God for that spark," he said quietly. "It has haunted me all my immortal life, but without it…" He shook his head. "I would not wish to live."

Renata glided forward softly. She slipped her hand through his large one. There was nothing to be said. They both sensed the darkness outside, rising slowly to swallow the day. As the minutes passed, the ancient's hand could be seen dimly, stroking her dark hair. They didn't seal up the coffin; no, not even after they'd quitted the room. It seemed more appropriate, letting the dead girl "breathe" in the cool air, instead of being shut up like she'd been in her last hours.

Renata left Marcus at his chamber, then walked slowly back to her own. The pain still ached inside her, but with less intensity. She felt it might be possible to go on now, knowing Aster's agony was at rest. And why not? Even immortals had to find ways to cope with eternity.

"I saw her strength… her goodness…"

A smile lifted Renata's mouth, settling tenderly in her dark eyes. So did I.


September 1st

isn't high school anymore, Aunt May. But anyway… Heidi promised to show us some of Michelangelo's work. Maybe da Vinci as well. Either way, I'm excited. This is such a beautiful place. I feel such peace here—more than I've ever felt in my life, except with my mom and dad. Did you ever come here, Daddy? Did you come to Europe, you and she together? I never knew about their past lives, but I was too young to care very much. Now they're gone, and I'm still asking questions. "Do you know I'm here?" "Can you see me?"

I'm in Volterra. Such a beautiful place. The days are slow and dreamy, weighed down by sunlight. The nights are even longer. The air is perfumed. Someone sings "Il Sole Mio" down the street.

Goodnight, Mom and Dad. Love you.