AN: And here it is folks! Another chapter!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: CULPRIT

…

I thought I must be interpreting the signs incorrectly.

Because where is the motive?

Why would someone create an army in Seattle?

There is no history there, no vendetta.

- Jasper, Eclipse, Chapter 13

…

Once I had taken my place in the lineup, Caius caustically cleared his throat to garner everyone's attention.

"Now that your pompous ceremony is over," he snarked icily at Aro, "Can we cut to the matters of actual importance?"

Aro leaned forward in his seat and looked briefly at Caius, with a weary expression—like he was tired of putting up with so many millennia of Caius' relentless irritation. Then he slid back fluidly, and gestured for Caius to continue.

Caius nodded in acknowledgement, and relaxed—albeit only fractionally. Then his cold eyes were rapt on all of us. And his shrill, angry voice turned low and grave.

"Alice has warned us of a dire outcome. We must begin making preparations as a coven to face this threat immediately. However, first we must have some conception of what we are up against. Alice, if you would not mind explaining, for those who have not seen it yet?"

Caius directed his eyes at a few faces in the crowd. I guessed three days wasn't enough time, with everything else that had probably been going on during my transformation, to show everyone Alice's vision through Titania and Lucretia. Either that, or some had opted, for whatever reason, not to witness the calamity for themselves.

Alice nodded automatically. Then, without breaking formation, she addressed everyone in a serious tone.

"We've faced lots of newborn armies before. I'm sure all of you recall the conflicts in the American South. And if I remember correctly, there was an incident in Anchorage three years back—which was dealt with decisively."

The whole guard nodded. And I bobbed my head jerkily along with them—even though I had no idea what Alice was talking about. It would be weird to be the only one who wasn't nodding, after all.

"Well, this isn't going to be anything like that," Alice warned. "Normally, the creators of newborn armies have some sensible goal. Something they're after that they can't get any other way. Territory. Power. Revenge. But this isn't the case this time. Whoever is going to create these newborns isn't worried about any of those things. I would have seen it, if that's what they wanted."

"If they have no goal, won't that make them easier to fight? Won't they be tactless?" Alec asked.

That was an excellent point. Ten points to the short guy.

But Alice, to everyone's dismay, shook her pretty little head. "I don't think so."

Alec frowned, put out that he was wrong.

Jane growled in her brother's defense. "But you said—"

"Let me be clear," Alice interrupted, her rudeness only vexing the little girl further. "I've been thinking, these past few days, that they do have goals, just that they're something very different. Something a lot worse than anything we've seen before."

A chorus of disquieted murmurs swept through the guard. They all seemed to be thinking the same thing I was.

"Worse?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

Aro cleared his throat, entering the conversation now. And as soon as that soft, feathery sound reached our ears, the entire guard locked into absolute stillness—their mouths all hard lines of perfect, obedient, silence.

Aro smiled when he saw that even I was doing my best imitation of the rest of the guard's behavior. But it was hard to feel happy about pleasing him when I was holding my breath, clenching my teeth, and staring, blankly, straight ahead, trying—and probably horribly failing—not to let my face show any emotion.

After a moment of observing me, Aro's vibrant crimson eyes filtered slowly across the guard as he spoke. "Alice believes—though she is not certain—" he made sure to add, when Alice shot him a meaningful glare, "—that chaos may be our enemy's main motive for creating the newborn army."

Chaos? I thought, surprised. What kind of motive was that?

"And why is that?" Caius demanded. I sensed the steel in his tone was born more of confusion at the enemy's tactics, than at Aro for not explaining them adequately enough, or at Alice for seeing them in the first place.

"Creators of newborn armies usually start with a handful, and work their way up," Aro reminded his brother. "Also, though sheer strength is expected to be their main advantage, many covens will give their newborns a semblance of training before they're set loose. Which is not our enemy's plan."

Caius lifted one snowy eyebrow. "You are saying that whoever will create these newborn vampires, has no intention of training them?" he asked, incredulously.

"None whatsoever," Aro agreed. "They plan to bite as many people as they can starting sometime next month. Then—after we come to clean up their mess—unleash the survivors on us."

Caius regarded Aro with undisguised horror for a minute. "You mean we are their intended target?"

Aro nodded solemnly. "It would appear so."

"And the extinction of our kind, which Alice foresees, might result from this battle? Is that also one of their objectives?" Caius demanded.

This time it was Alice who responded. "I don't think so," she said, shaking her head. "That's just a side-effect of how bad the fighting could get. If we are not very careful, it will force us out into the open. Then humans will do the rest."

A ripple of unease went through the whole guard then. I shuddered along with them.

Caius' eyes flashed back to Alice. "Do you know the date of the battle?"

"My predictions place it on June 15th," Alice told him promptly. "Though, that's only if they stick to their original plans."

"So, we have a few months to make our preparations…" Caius mused aloud, briefly satisfied.

But then his snowy brow contracted over his crimson eyes. And he made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat.

"But who is this 'they' you speak of?" he demanded. "Who would see the Volturi eradicated? Who is our enemy?"

All eyes turned on Alice. Though Caius was the first to address the issues, we were all wondering.

But to everyone's disappointment, Alice shrugged. "I still don't know. I wish I did. I've spent decades trying to figure it out." she added to make sure Caius knew her ignorance wasn't from lack of trying. "But whoever they are, they're never quite active enough—never quite directly involved in the action—to see them clearly."

Caius made a sharp, impatient gesture toward Aro's two daughters, then another at Alice.

"Show me."

Aro sighed at his brother's impatience. And my eyes bulged.

Caius, one of the three kings himself, hadn't seen this yet?

I began immediately sorting out all the possible reasons why. And I'd compiled a list of almost thirty-two different reasons—each more upsetting than the last—when, to my further astonishment, Aro made no protest. Instead, he lifted himself off his throne again to glide to his daughters' sides.

While Aro made his way slowly over to the low bench where the wives sat, tending the girls, I took a moment to see what they were doing. And when I figured it out, I inhaled in shock.

It looked like the two girls were handling some blocks of metal that had bright letters and numbers painted on the side. I was shocked because they were toys that—like the soap I'd used the night before—must have been manufactured with vampires in mind.

After all, regular old wooden blocks would have splintered under the pressure these girls were exerting. And as it was, the blocks weren't perfect cubes anymore. The metal was slightly mangled on the edges, sporting tiny, finger-shaped grooves, from decades of rough play.

Interesting, I thought.I wasn't expecting that.

I wonder what else Aro has produced here?

I could think of a few other things the Volturi might craft to resist damage—and wondered if they had bothered. But before I could fully parse it out, suddenly Aro floated into his daughters' view.

The girls stopped what they were doing immediately. They let their metal blocks fall—clank, clank, clank—on the stone floor. And then flitted to Aro's side, clutching at his void-black cloak with their tiny, hard fingers.

"Il mio padre!" the girls sang in eerie, harmonious unison.

"What do you need of us now?" Lucretia asked, evidently eager to please.

Her voice was the peppier of the two. And higher-pitched.

"He wants us to show uncle Caius what Alice has seen," Titannia, said in an exasperated tone. "Duh," she added, like her sister was being stupid.

Lucretia crossed her tiny little arms defensively and stuck her tongue out at her sister.

The small, childish gesture was cute to me. Probably one of the only genuinely adorable things I'd seen one of the girls do since their gruesome meal.

But it incensed Titannia. Her adorable little face scrunched up with an expression that said, this means war.

I rolled my eyes. I hated to be the curmudgeon, but we didn't have time for this. We were trying to strategize a war, here. Probably one of the most important wars in history.

Luckily, Aro intervened before anything happened. He placed a soothing hand on Titannia's shoulder. And smiled disarmingly at her.

"You are right. So how about we get right to it?" he encouraged, hoping to dispel any arguments before they erupted.

And to everyone's collective relief, the girls did not fight after hearing this. Instead, they nodded placidly. And followed their father as he walked them across the room toward Caius.

…

It only took a few minutes for the girls to show Caius everything Alice had seen. But when Caius floated back from the pair, breaking the connection between his, and Lucretia's hands, he looked almost visibly aged. Like Alice had forced him to slog through a hundred-years-worth of possibilities.

I imagined that was probably not too far from the truth. Alice had probably shared every relevant vision about the upcoming battle. Every branching, alternate timeline, stretching out indefinitely from that one, already ill-defined point. Just so that Caius could be absolutely sure that Alice hadn't, even once, seen something that might identify our enemy.

Aro looked meaningfully at Caius when the exchange was finished. And Caius, with a deep, scowl, marring his marble face, shook his head.

"Nothing," he said bleakly. "Alice is right. Our attacker—the creator of these newborns—is almost deliberately missing."

Aro's interest was piqued at Caius' wording. "You think it is deliberate? That they hide from Alice's vision, knowingly?"

I felt a rush of shock. And based on the handful of gasps that slipped out around me, I wasn't alone. Our enemy knew about Alice's power?

"I cannot imagine any other way they could stay so completely out of her view," Caius said, logically. "I think the most I saw, was at best, a foggy silhouette. But I could not even tell you the sex."

Aro tapped his chin ponderously, considering what Alice had shown him earlier in light of this new insight. "I am not sure I see things the same way," he shared, after a few moments of mulling it over. "Our attacker's mystery identity could simply be a coincidence. But if what you are saying, dear brother, is true, then that actually narrows our search a bit. Only so many vampires in the world know of Alice's gift, after all."

Caius scoffed. "Hardly. You boast of her abilities too much," he accused. "I imagine half the supernatural world knows by now."

Alice chuckled lightly. "Caius has a point. You brag about me a lot."

Aro smiled, a little guilty. "Perhaps," he allowed. "I shall endeavor to be more careful from now on. But I still believe my original point stands. How many, after all, know Alice's gift well enough to dodge it so tactfully?"

He has a point there. A general knowledge that Alice could see the future was not enough. In order to be able to dodge her sight so effectively, one had to have a pretty robust knowledge of how her power worked. At the very least, to know that there were gaps in her vision they could exploit. That there were certain things Alice, no matter how hard she tried, simply could not see.

Like the werewolves in La Push. Or, more regularly, the decisions that had not yet been made.

Aro turned to face the guard now, and spread his hands wide in invitation. "Do any of you have any guesses? I want to hear your thoughts. Who do you think is responsible for this calamity Alice foresees?"

The conference room—that was what I had decided to call this rectangular stone enclosure, cluttered with wrought iron-candelabras and too many black-cloaked bodies—erupted into a cacophony of sound almost instantly after Aro's invitation. Lots of the immortals around me had ideas, it seemed, about who might be responsible for the newborn army that was not yet created. But as they all tried talking over each other, the names I caught here and there, were all either unfamiliar, or utterly implausible.

"I knew we should not have let Stefan and Vladimir live!" Alec shouted. "The Romanians would love an opportunity to exact revenge!"

"We have other enemies, in the American South," Heidi thought it was necessary to point out. "And they would be just as eager, and a lot closer. Not to mention more versed in the whole newborn thing."

"No!" protested Demetri. "It has to be someone from the Egyptian coven! Probably Amun. He resents our hold over them. This is how he breaks our agreement!"

"Perhaps it is Carlisle," Vera said coldly. "Another experiment of his, gone horribly wrong," she snapped, still clearly hurt by what he'd done to her those many years ago. "That would explain the uncertain motive, and his absence in Alice's visions. Of course, he never intends it to turn into a fight—."

"Carlisle doesn't want us dead and he would never be so careless as to create an army by accident," Renata surprised me by coming to his defense. "Nor would the others of his coven. He may have made grave mistakes before. But you cannot let your past experiences cloud your judgment."

Vera's dark eyes narrowed at the shorter vampire. She wasn't going to back down.

"His power would make it all too easy to lie to us. Not to mention he is also the only known coven leader in the area," she countered. "It would be awfully convenient."

I swallowed. Vera did have a point. The ability to alter memories would make hiding from the Volturi—Alice, included, pretty simple. And no other vampires currently lived in Washington state. But I didn't like to entertain that line of thought.

And I liked the next idea brought to the table even less.

"Could it be one of us?" Afton asked.

I clapped a hand over my mouth. But while I seriously considered the possibility with no small amount of horror, everyone else glared at him to shut him up. Like he was being stupid for just suggesting it.

"Just a thought," he mumbled sheepishly. "You know, since a member of the Volturi would know best how Alice's power worked."

He had a point there. But the rest of the Volturi guard wasn't having any of it.

"What an idiotic idea!" Ichika protested, her voice carrying a slight Japanese accent. "We would never betray our own! Besides, Aro would know of our treason as soon as he touched us or Marcus. None of us could keep that secret from him!"

Is that true?

I thought about bringing up how Jane had managed to keep the occasional, minor pains she sent toward Alice a secret. But then I realized I didn't really know enough about that to make my case. I was just going off what Alice had told me. And her exact explanation was vague.

"Do you really want to accuse any of us of betrayal?" Ichika demanded, an edge of steel in her voice.

Afton shook his head, bowed it in apology, then slunk back shyly from the affronted vampire.

I felt another stab of pity for him. Even if Ichika was right—Aro would know right away, from Marcus' gift, or from the mind of the person themselves, if one of the Volturi guard's loyalties ever faltered—there was no need to make him feel so awful about it. Being in the very back with the lightest cloak, and full knowledge that Aro would rather he not be there, had to be humiliating enough.

I tried to give him a reassuring smile. But he wasn't looking up. And the rest of the coven was still speaking. I rotated to my left, to hear Chelsea voice her theory.

"Could something else be blocking Alice's vision besides just evasion?" the light brown-haired vampire asked. "You cannot see Children of the Moon with your sight," she reminded Alice. "Maybe they are involved?"

"Impossible," Caius snarled. "They are all but extinct. I have seen to it myself."

"Wait, what's a Child of the Moon?" I asked. But no one seemed to want to answer me. They were to busy formulating their own theories.

"You know, you might be onto something," Alice noted, rubbing her pale chin in thought. "That would explain some of the weird gaps. The futures that suddenly disappear…." She trailed off, her eyes misted over as she reviewed the futures in her mind again. "But…" she stipulated, coming suddenly back to earth, "…it could just as easily be some other kind of creature. I can only see futures predicated on the decisions of humans and vampires, you know."

Some other creature? There were more?

But frustratingly, no one was interested in educating the noob. So, I waited, with an ever-souring expression as more cloaked figures around me shouted out their various theories, and offered rebuttal after rebuttal as to why they didn't add up.

This went on for some time. I tried asking more questions, whenever there seemed to be a gap in the conversation. But hardly any of the guard paid me any attention. And the few that did glowered at me, like I was a toddler interrupting an adult's discussion with stupid inquiries. So, after fifteen long minutes, in a particularly irritated mood, I decided to add a contribution of my own.

"What about Victoria?" I blurted out, shooting off the cuff, more than anything.

"Who?" nearly every member of the Volturi whispered in unison.

I bristled. I wasn't really expecting anyone to pay attention to my remarks, given how they'd ignored my earlier question. And it was eerie how much on the same wavelength they were. But I supposed that was only natural after being together for centuries.

I slunk back as the rest of the Volturi guard started murmuring disapprovingly, shying away from the judgmental scrutiny that was suddenly foisted on me, the same way Afton had backed down before. And automatically I opened my mouth. But before I could mumble an apology for my impertinence, there was a light, bell-toned voice of protest.

"Wait," Alice instructed, holding up a hand to silence everyone. "Bella may be onto something here."

She made an impatient gesture for me to continue. And, though there were muffled gasps of surprise rippling through the guard, no once voiced any more protests. In fact, Aro even leaned forward in his throne, eyeing me raptly.

I gulped. It wasn't really a theory—a stab in the dark, if I was lucky. But since she'd put my on the spot, I really didn't have any choice but to share.

"You said something about territory before, and that got me thinking, who besides the Cullens lives in the area? Who else might find the local population of Seattleites tempting to make into an army?" I explained as logically as I could, surprised at how sensible my idea when I explained it out loud. "Well, I know of one vampire who has been hanging around ever since last summer."

Alice nodded. "Victoria. Right. You told me about that," she acknowledged brightly. Then she tapped her chin again, looking thoughtful and more than a little confused. "What would be her motive, though? I don't think she hates us that much."

"Revenge on me and the Cullens?" I guessed, shrugging. "For killing James?"

Hell, if I knew. After all, I hadn't really given the idea very much thought.

"But a newborn army?" She made a face. "Don't you think that's a little drastic, Bella?"

I made a noncommittal gesture. Alice had a point. But there were a few facts that supported my theory. It wasn't entirely baseless.

"Victoria tried the whole time you were gone to sneak around the pack's defenses so she could kill me," I explained, both for Alice's benefit and everyone else's. Though, from their bewildered stares, I got the distinct impression I wasn't enlightening them at all. "But she hasn't had any luck. So maybe she decided to go through them rather than around."

Alice nodded, taking this all in. Then she seemed to come to a realization. A realization that twisted her painted features into an unpleasant frown.

"But you're not living there anymore."

I rolled my eyes. "Alice, it's only been four days. Do you really think she's noticed that yet?"

We couldn't, after all, expect Victoria to keep that close of tabs on me. If she'd been able to get that close, she would have killed me already.

Alice sighed. "You're right. But this confrontation is much bigger than some little mate-for-mate vendetta," she insisted. "Victoria has only wanted you dead since last June. Not even a full year yet. But Bella, I've been seeing this vision since 1948, remember?"

Oh. I scrunched my eyebrows together. "You got me there."

Another ripple of disappointed murmurs, interspersed with the occasional insult went through the guard then. And I, despite usually being a forgiving person, felt a spasm of murderous rage.

Oh, shut up already! Some of us were born yesterday! Can you give me a break?

"Maybe she's helping the people who want to kill us?" I snapped, throwing up a hand in exasperated irritation. "Or something. I mean, she was still in contact with Laurent."

Alice frowned. "I don't see how that—"

I clenched my teeth in frustration. How could she not see it? It was only just coming together now in my head—all the pieces rapidly assembling in my super-computer-like vampire brain. But out of habit I still expected Alice to be one step ahead of me. Was she really not able to keep up?

"He came to us, remember? After James decided to hunt me down?" I prodded, hoping the incident at the baseball field would jog her memory. "Well, where did he go after that?"

I was hoping I wouldn't have to spell it all out for her. And as I watched the comprehension light in her vibrant, crimson eyes, I realized with a huff of relief, that I wouldn't.

Alice cursed quietly under her breath. "Of course. Laurent stayed for some time with the Denali clan. So he would probably understand my gift a little through them. Irina was so besotted with him… I bet she'd tell him anything…"

Alice made a disgusted face, and fiercely shook her head. And, in light of recent revelations, I couldn't help but agree. If Laurent had, in fact, passed on sensitive information about how Alice's powers worked to Victoria, that could be disastrous.

"Wait," Aro introjected suddenly. He seemed to be the only one that was following anything we were saying. Everyone else was looking on in uncomprehending stupor. "You are saying that it is possible this nomad, Victoria, understands how your powers work?"

Alice heaved a heavy sigh. "It's possible," she admitted. "But that doesn't mean anything really, when it comes to determining the culprit behind these attacks. I honestly doubt either she or Laurent are personally involved—they have no reason to target the Volturi. Though it does expand the range of our search." Alice made another appalled face. "They could have told anyone."

Caius groaned. And for a moment I mirrored his exasperated expression. Great. This is just great.

"But I'm glad Bella brought it up all the same," Alice interjected before anyone could get mad at me for wasting time with pointless accusations. "I almost forgot about the Denali clan for a second there. Of course, they would know. And they're not too far away themselves—they live in Alaska."

Aro raised an eyebrow curiously. "You think the other vegetarians are responsible for this?"

There was a hint of irony in his tone. And I couldn't help but smile wryly, despite myself.

Wouldn't that be funny.

Alice shrugged. "They have a rather painful history with us—the former leader of their coven was executed by our organization hundreds of years ago for creating an immortal child. So, it's possible, after much strategizing, they decided to finally retaliate."

I felt my hand rise over my mouth in shock. The Denali clan used to have a different leader? I had no clue who their current leader was—I'd never met them. But my heart felt a searing pang at the idea of them loosing their former head, all the same. If the Cullens somehow lost Carlisle…

I shook myself to banish that awful thought.

"But it's anyone's guess really," Alice rushed to add. "I'm just saying if we're making a list of potential candidates…" she looked meaningfully toward Caius—as though that was usually his role. "Then, they should be on it."

I flinched. "I don't know…" I began uneasily.

I hated that we were throwing around suspicions so broadly right now. It felt like someone had let loose an ignited flamethrower, leaving it to spin wildly out of control, spurting hot flames of accusation in every direction.

"You've never met them, have you?" Alice asked.

I looked down at my feet. "No."

"Well, that might change," Alice announced cryptically. Then, without any sort of warning, she spun on her heels to face the three thrones again, and started doling out orders, like she was one in charge.

"Caius, I'm going to need you, Marcus and Aro to compile a list. I need the name of every vampire who has ever met me. And the names of every vampire who has ever met them."

Caius glared daggers at Alice for daring to command him in anything. And for a horrifying moment, I thought he was going to seize her by the neck, the way he'd grabbed Edward four days ago.

His boots hit the ground with a rather loud thud. And he was, in an instant, all the way out of his chair.

But a fraction of a second later, before anything could happen, Caius received a forbidding gesture from Aro. Then Aro inclined his head towards Chelsea—the tiniest request for her assistance. And, after only a beat of hesitation, she honed her melancholy crimson gaze on him.

It only took a moment for her gift to take effect. But Caius seemed to resent it all the same. He shot his brother one last baleful look, before he sighed, and sat back down, letting the accumulated tension ease out of his hard, pale body.

"That is a lot of names, Alice," Marcus pointed out, hoping to diffuse any lingering anger in the room.

I found it surprising that he cared. Normally he was content to let things get violent, so long as they didn't involve him. But the underlying suspicion I'd seen in his eyes earlier was still there. So perhaps that was the reason for his uncharacteristic intervention.

Of course, I couldn't be sure.

"Well, we've got to start somewhere," Alice told him, placing her tiny hands defiantly on her hips. "Once you've got the list, I can start to narrow it down. And then we can visit the most likely candidates."

Marcus nodded. He seemed to agree with me that Alice's plan was sound. Then, after shooting a tiny glance in Caius' direction, and determining that he was still visibly enraged, but seated, he went back to staring boredly into space.

"And what do you plan to do in the meantime, while we compile this list?" Aro asked, his eyes flicking rapidly between the faces of his two brothers, and Alice. He seemed to be interested in everyone's expressions and couldn't pick just one place to look.

"I've got plenty to do," Alice told him honestly. "Futures to review, contingencies to prepare for," she listed, numbering them off on her fingers. "And of course, I'll need to prep Bella."

I stiffened where I stood. Oh, boy. I'm in for it now.

"We can help train the girl," Caius surprised me by contributing. And he surprised me even more by sounding willing, rather than begrudging about the idea. Even if he still harbored a significant amount of anger towards Alice.

"She will need diverse training," he pointed out. "Combat. Our history. Our etiquette. Italian, of course, so we don't have to conduct all these meetings in English."

He snorted then, and I realized with a stunned jolt that the coven was already making one huge accommodation for me. They were all speaking in a different language than they usually did. All because there was one in their midst who wouldn't understand anything otherwise.

I felt a prickle of misgiving about my earlier anger. Perhaps I had been too harsh on the other members of the Volturi for thinking they weren't trying to include me in their conversations. They obviously already were doing a lot to try and make me feel at home. I was just an ungrateful American.

"She will also need to become familiar with our formations and cues," Caius went on, practically. "And, naturally, Aro will want to test her powers and their limitations."

Alice bobbed her head enthusiastically. "Right. Yes," she acknowledged. "But I'm going to need that list."

"Of course," Aro agreed hastily, to cut off the furious tirade threatening to spill out of his brother. Apparently, he did not like being ordered around. At least, not if the way his jaw was clenched and his hands were spasming with lethal intent were any indication.

"But my brother is also right," Aro went on, keeping his eyes on his wrathful brother. "Isabella also needs to be prepared for what is coming if she is going to be of any use to us. So how about I propose a compromise? Until we have narrowed the range of our suspects to a number of people we can visit, we will split our time, Daytime will be spent training Isabella. But as soon as night falls, we will resume compiling our list. Is that acceptable to you?"

Alice mulled it over for a minute, her glazed red eyes peering up into the future for a moment to check for any foreseeable problems. Then, evidently finding none, she dipped her head and nodded.

"I think I can work with that," she said. "Though, I am curious, who will teach her what?"

I wasn't sure exactly why that was important. But Aro seemed willing to humor her anyway.

"I will handle the formations, and the etiquette, of course," he said, splaying a hand over his chest. "Marcus has agreed to teach the girl our histories. He knows the important parts as well as I do," he added, gesturing to the bored vampire to his right, before pointing to the white-haired vampire on his left. "And Caius will oversee her combat training."

Marcus didn't say anything to confirm that he would teach me anything. But he didn't deny it either.

Caius, on the other hand, gave me a short little nod. A nod that, despite who it was coming from, and what he was committing to, made me feel a lot better. I didn't want to be a burden to him after all.

"What about her powers?" Alice demanded. "Who is going to train her to use those?"

Aro tapped his chin in thought, then ran his crimson eyes down the three lines of cloaked figures standing at attention in front of him, surveying his options. "Renata, I think, would be the best teacher," he decided at last, settling on the woman in the beginning of the second row. "Her gift is similar to Isabella's. And I will give her my permission to call in anyone else she needs to practice on. Or against."

Aro cast a meaningful glance in Jane's direction.

I felt a shiver race down my spine. He wanted to pit me against her?

Aro, oblivious to my horror at the idea of training with Jane of all people, continued. "That way, Isabella will have something to work on at night. Unless," he stipulated suddenly. "You plan to hold Renata to the same restrictions…?"

Aro trailed off uncertainly, like he expected the answer to have an equal chance of going either way. And Renata, looking abruptly terrified, held her breath as she waited for the petite vampire's answer.

Alice, a moment later, shook her head. "No. She won't be any help compiling the list," she declared firmly. Which I thought was a little rude, until I saw Renata's face.

She looked incredibly relieved. Like she wouldn't have known at all how to proceed had Alice asked her to help in that way, and was happy to be released from the responsibility.

"So, Renata can train Bella at night," Alice allowed. "I might have to steal Bella for a few hours though, every now and then," she added, frowning as if she'd suddenly thought of something important.

I inhaled sharply. I wasn't sure why, but I felt so sure in that moment that whatever Alice was going to say next wasn't going to be pleasant.

And it appeared I wasn't alone in that assumption. Several other members of the guard leaned forward curiously, wondering what might be so important that Alice would dare to propose interrupting my training to complete it.

We all widened our eyes, and inclined our ears in anticipation…

Alice made a scandalized face. "Bella can't just wear the same thing, day after day!"

Several of the guard members groaned audibly. And I couldn't help but snicker. Of course, even in the face of a potential apocalypse, Alice could be trusted to be worried about fashion.

I rolled my eyes. And Aro made an impatient gesture, urging Alice to get to the point.

She pouted petulantly for a minute. But, to everyone's relief, she relented.

"Anyway, we still haven't decided who is going to teach her Italian," Alice pointed out.

"I can do it," a soft, seductive voice surprised me by answering.

Heidi? I whipped around to look at her, and gaped in disbelief. Heidi was volunteering to teach me?

"Day, night, whenever," she offered, making her hands do a little flip flop to suggest she didn't really care. That her schedule was wide open. But somehow the little movement was entrancing.

"Night, probably," Alice contributed, seemingly unaffected by her charms. I marveled at her composure for a moment, until suddenly someone else spoke. And my attention was ripped away from Heidi's sensuous curves, back into the present.

"What do you say, Isabella?" Aro inquired genially. "Is this acceptable to you?"

I took only a fraction of a second to think it over. It sounded like they planned to keep me very busy. And that was alright with me. Less time to wallow in guilt. Less time to remember the awful thing I'd done.

I nodded with a little more zeal than was necessary. "Sounds good to me. When do we start?"

…

As it so happened, Aro wanted to start right away. The day was still young. And he wanted to make the most of it before he was caught up in compiling Alice's list of suspects. So soon after everyone was dismissed, he flitted to my side while the rest of the guard was filing out of the room, and requested that I come with him.

Alice had somewhere else to be. So, she left with the others, giving me a sad, small wave before she rushed out into the dusty hallway. But, while it was sad to see her go after she'd given me so much support, I wasn't exactly afraid of being alone with Aro. He was doing his best to be approachable—even if he didn't always succeed on that front. And I was a vampire now, so it wasn't like he would be inclined, on instinct, to hurt me.

He could, I supposed, try to hurt me anyway. His teeth could still cut through my skin, if they really wanted to. But I was a newborn vampire, meaning my strength was superior to his, so I had a good chance, despite my lack of training, of winning in a fight. And, of course, it would be rather pointless to try and kill me after he had gone to such lengths to convince me to come over to his side. After he had changed me himself.

So, I felt relatively at ease as he led me swiftly out of the conference room, and down another, long, winding hallway. And I made no protest when we reached a door that opened into a tiny little room, only a little larger than a broom closet. Even if the room was triggering my claustrophobia.

The cramped space was mostly filled by half a desk—and I do mean half, this desk had once been much longer, but it was splintered on one edge, like someone had broken it in two. Behind the desk was an equally destroyed bookcase full of dusty books and board game boxes, and a rickety wooden chair. And in front were a handful of mismatched cushions and stools, splintered and moth-eaten.

Once we were inside, Aro gestured for me to sit.

I complied without hesitation, taking the ottoman that looked most likely not to collapse under me. To my relief, it held up. Although I was worried its dusty cushions would leave gray marks on my black jeans.

While I silently fretted, trying to reassure myself that a little dust would be sure to wash out, Aro took his own seat on the rickety chair, behind the half-desk. The desk that had me even more worried than my old cushions did. I stared at the broken side, tracing the individual wood grains in the splinters curiously with my supernaturally enhanced sight.

What had happened? Had one of the Volturi thrown someone against it? Cracked it right in half?

"Very good, Isabella," Aro enthused.

I blinked up at him, tearing my eyes away from the jagged edge. "What?"

"You followed me here without question," he explained, smiling, pleased.

I prickled. Was that really a good thing? To follow blindly?

But before I could ask, suddenly Aro extended a single hand, reaching across the broken desk. His palm was facing upward in invitation.

I felt my stomach lurch. Would this time be different, now that I was a vampire?

I knew both Aro and Alice were counting on my "power" to transfer over into my immortality. That my "gift" was somehow crucial to the upcoming fight. Though exactly how my power was supposed to help hadn't been explained yet.

But I honestly didn't know what to expect. I didn't know if there was anything I could expect. Everything about being a vampire was so different than I had imagined when I first learned Edward was one. And Alice had been wrong about things before.

But even though I couldn't be certain my shield still existed, and the prospect of having my mind wholly exposed terrified me, I didn't hesitate for too long. I was curious too.

So, tentatively, I took Aro's hand.

Aro's eyes glittered briefly as he smoothed his other hand over mine, sandwiching it in his skin—skin that felt warm and soft, now that we were the same species. Then his pale eyelids fluttered closed.

I felt a tremor of anxiety. Were my thoughts pouring into his head?

But Aro's eyes were only shut for a moment before they shot open, and regarded me with reverential awe.

I smiled sheepishly at him. And he breathed a little sigh. "Remarkable."

"Still nothing?" I asked, unable to contain it.

Aro nodded. "Still nothing," he repeated. Though his voice was barely a whisper. "But I should not be so surprised. After all, this is exactly as Alice predicted…"

I raised a mahogany eyebrow. "She saw us here, in this room?"

Aro shook his head. "No, not here in particular. At least, not until I decided to take you here myself. But she did predict that your immunity would carry over into immortality."

I nodded, feeling a flood of relief. I knew that. But still to have confirmation was reassuring.

Of course, Aro seemed to find my continued resistance to him unnervingly fascinating. He kept me trapped in his firm, unrelenting grasp for several minutes. And sunk his deep, penetrating gaze into my skin, as if he was trying to unveil its secrets through the sheer force of his stare.

He held my hand for a lot longer than I would have liked. Just when I was starting to feel uncomfortable, however, he released my hand. Then he steepled his fingers together, his elbows propped up against the dusty surface of the splintered desk.

"There is much to explore," Aro breathed, excitement glittering in his eyes. "But we will test your powers later. This morning, I will be teaching you proper etiquette."

I inclined my head. "Etiquette?"

"Yes, you have much to learn," Aro contributed.

My face warped with confusion. I didn't doubt him that my etiquette was remiss—I had never learned what you were supposed to use the big spoon for versus the small spoon. Nor any other, confusing, upper-echelon-of-society rules. But I failed to see why that was important right now.

We have a newborn army threatening our extinction and you're worried about my manners?

"I really don't see how that's relevant," I told him, crossing my arms over my chest.

Aro chuckled. "I can see how it might seem that way to you," he allowed. "But it is essential for your induction into our ranks to go smoothly."

"Okay…" Was it really, though? "Could you name an example?"

Aro beamed. "How about we start with this?" he suggested. "How would you address me?"

I looked at him quizzically. "Aro?"

That seemed like the obvious answer. It was his name, after all.

Aro chuckled. "So familiar…"

And suddenly I realized what he was getting at.

"Oh… you mean… what title I should use…"

Aro nodded. And I wanted to smack myself in the forehead.

I felt stupid for not realizing it earlier. Of course, one of the men that was basically considered vampire royalty would have some fancy, preferred method of address. I should have seen that coming. After all, Jane had addressed him as "master" this morning. And most other members of the Volturi appeared to do the same.

I tried thinking back, to see if anyone besides Alice had ever directly spoken to him without some title, but the earlier memories—my human memories—were so murky and out-of-focus it was difficult to recall. I felt like I was watching an old film underwater. Everything was so fuzzy and distorted. Warped by imperfect recollection. And as I poured over it, I felt uncomfortable.

I tried, during the split seconds while I processed Aro's reply, to recall other things. Everything that had happened in the last twelve hours was crystal clear—a little too clear, when it came to the memory of the murder I had committed. But I had to exert extra effort to spin back to any time before the burning of venom in my veins. And what I found, behind that harsh, dividing line between my mortality and my immortality was ultimately disappointing.

Had my memory always been this bad? I wondered. Or is my new memory just so good that everything else looks bad in comparison?

I had a sneaking suspicion it was the latter. And, though it was uncomfortable to swim through my old memories, I resolved to make an effort in the next few days anyway. After all, I didn't want to completely forget my human life. Even if there were parts of it I wouldn't mind letting slip into oblivion.

I shook myself to bring myself back to the present. "What should I call you?" I asked.

Would he want to be called master, as well? Or my king? His Royal Highness, maybe?

I wasn't sure what to call him, or even if I was supposed to afford him any title at all. That seemed to be what he was getting at. But Alice just called him Aro. And he seemed perfectly fine with that.

Of course, I was fairly certain Alice could have three heads and Aro wouldn't mind in the slightest. He would let her get away with almost anything if it meant he had access to her amazing power.

"Well, ultimately, that is up to you," Aro replied, with surprising openness.

I blinked at him, more stupefied than before. "If it doesn't matter, then why bother bringing it up?"

"Did you catch Caius' anger at the end of our meeting?" Aro asked.

I bristled. It had been impossible to miss.

"My brother was angry because of a breach of etiquette," Aro explained. "If Alice had afforded him the proper respect, he would not have gotten so angry. I was able to quell him, with Chelsea's assistance. But I may not always be there to do so. And if you do not want to incur his wrath, or anyone else's, it is best that you understand how we operate."

I nodded—twitchy and fast, like all of my motions were now. I supposed that made sense.

But then, something else occurred to me. Something that made all of this seem horribly unnecessary. "Why have all these rules at all, though… if they're just going to make people step on each other's toes?"

It seemed silly to me, to get angry about something like that. Was it really that big of a deal if Alice forgot a few pointless, niceties?

Aro tapped his chin ponderously. "Let me see if I can explain this to you in a way you understand. You see, most of us here were born in a different time. And you must understand that as such, not everyone was raised believing the same things about authority figures that you do," he explained.

"I still don't see how…"

"You personally are not fond of authoritative titles, I take it?" Aro cut in.

I stiffened. Then rubbed my elbows self-consciously. "Well… no," I admitted.

"You find them stuffy and pointless?" he pressed.

I gawked at his boldness. I would have never presumed to say such a thing to his face. But then I remembered he was used to reading the entirety of people's thoughts. And that he had probably heard a lot worse directed at him as a result. So, I figured he could handle the unfiltered truth.

"Yeah. And um… I mean no offense by this," I prefaced, just in case he did decide to become affronted. "But I also think people who need titles are a bit… um…" I struggled to find a diplomatic word.

"Narcissistic?" Aro guessed.

I nodded—jerkily again. And Aro chuckled.

"I understand why it might seem that way to you," he relayed in a sympathetic tone. "From your perspective, though some people hold positions of power as a result of greater skill, they have no greater value than any other individual. Your authorities are elected," he reminded me, like that was unusual—and I supposed to him, it was. "So they are subject to the votes of the people; servants to the people. And if they do not comply with the people's wishes, they are considered scoundrels."

I nodded again. Everything Aro was saying about my perception of authority was more or less true.

"All of this, colors your expectations of me as a coven leader," Aro went on. "But the rest of guard, excepting Alice, of course, are more accustomed to monarchy than democracy—and as such they expect and respond best to authority that behaves like a king, rather than a president. Specifically, authority that is firm, austere, and intolerant of any insubordination."

I nodded a third time. I was starting to understand his point, I think.

He seemed to comprehend where I was coming from, and wasn't actually upset with me for how I'd treated him so far. But I was guessing my behavior towards him until now was completely inappropriate from a medieval mindset.

"You have been very cooperative thus far," he praised, before I could become too crestfallen. "And I appreciate that greatly. But it will only be more imperative going forward that you present a loyal face. If you have any disagreements with me, try, as often as possible, to address them in private. And if you would like me to do something for you, try to frame it as a suggestion. Presuming to order around a king is an unacceptable behavior," he said, confirming my suspicions. "And if I were to submit to your demands and not correct your disobedience…?"

He left the question unanswered. But I completely comprehended what he meant.

From the other Volturi guard's perspective, any leader whose right to reign was contingent on sucking up to his underlings would be perceived as weak and unworthy of following. A "proper" leader ought to be capable of subduing all dissenters under his feet.

And so, if Aro were to publicly 'surrender to my authority' by taking an order from me, then the guards who had sworn allegiance to him on account of his organization's unmatched power, would desert him. And complete anarchy would ensue.

I didn't need Aro to be uncompromising to see him as a capable leader. He was right, my 21st century perception of authority meant that I actually preferred a leader who was more relatable, more willing to negotiate and listen to those "beneath" him.

But to the others, democracy was an alien concept. Respect was earned by being the toughest and most ambitious one around, not bestowed because of agreement on hot-button political topics. Your opinions about how the supernatural community ought to be run didn't matter if you couldn't enforce them.

"In private, of course, you may speak your mind," Aro reiterated. "Sometimes Alice even calls me names."

I sat back in my chair, stiff with shock. Aro would tolerate insults?

"But it is uncouth to do so before the others. In their eyes, it is sullying for me to be treated like everyone else," he explained. "In fact, I will already be forced to reassert myself in their eyes because of Alice's treatment of me and my brothers today," he divulged.

My eyes bugged out. "Wait, really? I don't remember her calling you any names?"

Aro giggled. "Not in so many words, no," he agreed. "If she had insulted any of us three directly in front of the others, I may have been forced to enact some discipline," he said with a certain steel to that last word that I didn't like.

I winced. I didn't want to try and picture what that might look like.

"But she gave us direct orders—something that is unacceptable," he clarified.

I swallowed.

"I understand that we are in a dire situation right now, so I will give her lenience when I speak to her next," Aro added before I could get too worried. "Still, even—no especially—in these trying times, the appearance of my authority is extremely important. Surely, you understand that we cannot afford to lose any more support now?"

It took a brief moment for the full ramifications of what Aro was saying to sink in. But as soon as it had, I bobbed my head enthusiastically. We'd already lost so many members of the Volturi guard to fear, and personal obligations. We didn't need to lose any more because they thought Aro was in an incapable leader.

"So, what do you need me to do?" I asked.

"I need you to listen carefully to what I teach you in these lessons, then follow my instructions to the best of your ability," he requested. And I nodded. That sounded reasonable. "That way, you will not inadvertently come off as rude, or acting above your station."

Above my station?

I chewed lightly on the outer corner of my lip. I'd never had to be part of such a strict hierarchy before. But, since it was for the greater good, and Aro wasn't demanding respect out of some need for self-aggrandizement, I was willing to give it a shot. So, I nodded, and motioned for Aro to continue.

"When you address me in front of the others, affording me a title of respect is one way you could appease them," Aro suggested. "Or you could try some kind of gesture—a small bow, a hand over your heart, a salute," he listed. Though, seeing the grimace on my face, he quickly changed his tune. "But if that makes you uncomfortable, you needn't worry about it. Not every member does so, and I do not require it."

I sighed with relief. It was nice to know I wouldn't be penalized. Because even if I gave my best effort, I was bound to forget. This was just all so… different from how I had been raised.

"Do you understand?"

Suddenly, I ducked my head, giving Aro the tiniest of bows in acknowledgement. "Yes…."

I tried to add some kind of honorific address at the end of my sentence to further convey my willingness to comply. Like sir or master. But the words were completely foreign to my egalitarian tongue. So, I quickly swallowed them before they rolled out inelegantly from unpracticed lips.

Aro smiled, catching my uncertain pause. And then he went on, as though nothing had happened.

"My brothers are pickier—Caius will demand respect. And Marcus will rarely even respond without it," he clarified, which made sense, based on what I'd seen from the two men, thus far. "So, it is best, at first, if you go through me, if you want anything from them."

I nodded. I could do that.

"Also, do take care to phrase all requests of myself or them as suggestions, not demands," he emphasized, yet again. Which I took to mean this was especially important. "And do try to comply with my desires with as little resistance as possible, so long as they are reasonable, at least until you have established yourself here."

I nodded again. That might be a little bit more difficult. I usually liked to ask questions first, and follow orders when I understood what I was being asked to do. But then again, I had been willing to follow Aro into this room with only a vague idea of why. So perhaps it would not be so difficult to trust him, going forward.

I pondered this, as Aro explained more things. Perhaps I wasstill a figure on his chessboard. And there was a part of me—the fiercely independent, 21st century part of me—that wouldn't ever be at ease with that. But now that I knew Aro's reasons, I found myself warming up to the idea of playing a more subordinate role.

Each vampire in the coven needed a different sort of leader. And Aro, being the mastermind that he was, was trying to be all of those people at once—simultaneously intimidating and unassuming, compassionate and merciless, uncompromising and flexible. I was deeply impressed that he was able to navigate it so masterfully. Clearly, he was perfectly cut out to rule the supernatural world

The least I could do was not make it too difficult for him.

…

Marcus taught me next. Finished teaching me for the day, Aro took me to meet him in another little room around noon. The rooms were very similar to one another—both cramped and made of cinnamon brown brick. Although this one, rather than being full of broken furniture, only housed a small writing desk and a few, dusty, leather-bound journals.

There weren't even any chairs to sit on. Which I thought was odd at first. Until I remembered that vampires didn't get sore feet. We could, quite comfortably, stand for hours on end.

That would take some… getting used to.

As would Marcus' rather lackluster demeanor.

It was difficult not to take his perpetual boredom and lifelessness personally. When Aro left, mentioning something about "reasserting his power" before he disappeared, at first, I thought Marcus was mad at me. Normally when people stared at me with such cold, dead eyes, it meant I had offended them in some way.

But when I started to apologize, Marcus stopped me.

"There is no need, Isabella," he said in a soft, raspy voice. "I am not angry with you."

I nodded, feeling kind of stupid for assuming. Then, following Aro's instructions from earlier today, I gestured to Marcus, and gave him a little inclination of my head that wasn't quite a bow—a signal that I was ready to listen to what he had to say.

Marcus dead face betrayed no emotion. So, I had no way of knowing if I had done that right. Maybe I had moved too fast? Not knowing how to slow down yet, I was doing everything at top speed.

But he did respond. Which I took as a good sign.

"I do not know how much information the Cullens have shared with you regarding our history," he said, looking at me in a manner I would have called curious, if there was any animation left in him at all. But of course, there wasn't.

I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly. Which probably looked funny with how quickly I did it.

"Um… not much," I admitted. "I know all the… physical stuff about being a vampire. And all the Cullens' personal stories. Well, except Jasper," I added. "He's… never really been forthcoming about his past…" I trailed off. I was getting off topic. "But, anything beyond the history of the Cullens… I really don't know."

Marcus nodded at a glacial he spoke, his voice low, and tired. "I suppose I should start at the beginning, then."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "At the beginning?" Then, remembering my manners, I backpedaled a bit. "I mean, if that is what you think is most… uh… prudent then—"

Marcus slowly held up a hand to silence my ramblings. And, recognizing that cue all too well from my earlier lesson from Aro, my lips automatically snapped shut.

If Marcus was impressed, he didn't show it.

"Yes, I do think it's prudent that we start at the beginning," he stated, firm on that point. "At least, as far back as we know, anyway," he stipulated suddenly. "None of us are really sure what happened at our true beginning—what made vampires come to be in the first place. But let us start four thousand years ago."

I swallowed. "Four thousand years ago?"