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CHAPTER TWENTY: RETURN
…
They [the Volturi] don't leave.
They bring their food from the outside, from quite far away sometimes.
It gives their guard something to do when they're not out annihilating mavericks.
Or protecting Volterra from exposure.
- Alice, New Moon, Chapter 19
…
Alice sat on the bed until the sun was peaking over the horizon outside. As soon as she felt its heat beating through the ceiling stones, she rose from the dark duvet, and spun to face me.
She was dressed as impeccably as usual. She wore a short, black, double-breasted trench coat like a dress, with semi-opaque tights underneath, and inky, stiletto-heeled boots. Her Volturi pendant glittered over her chest. And on top of everything, she'd thrown her pitch-black cloak.
She looked great. And she'd dressed me equally well, although, with some concession for my personal taste. Instead of a dress, or a coat, she'd put me in darkwash jeans. Instead of heeled boots, I'd been afforded cute, black ballet flats. And over another frilly shirt—she did like putting me in those, no matter what I said—she'd thrown on a chunky, blood-red, military-style jacket.
Of course, I too wore the same necklace as she. And my whole ensemble was buried somewhat under my, slightly lighter, black cloak. I still wasn't sure if that ruined the effect or not. Alice always seemed to make her own ensembles work with the required Volturi attire. Though, I imagined she could have taken a wet newspaper and turned it into a cute fashion accessory.
When she stood up, showing off her new outfit, I was standing in the bathroom, peering into my beautiful, but still disconcertingly alien reflection in the mirror. The door was open, so I saw her move, out of the corner of my eye—in tack sharp focus. Something, that even after all this time, still surprised me.
"Bella?" she called, as I scrutinized my too-symmetrical features. They looked even more unfamiliar than usual under the layer of expensive makeup Alice had applied just moments before.
I looked up from the silvery glass, and turned to face her, my feet shifting over the cold bathroom tile. "Yes?"
"Heidi is going to be back soon so… um, we should get going." Alice made a limp gesture toward the door. And I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"But my eyes they're not even—!" I started to protest, gesturing frantically toward my own irises.
They hadn't even noticeably dimmed from my first feed yet. Unlike Alice's irises, which were already a deep burgundy.
Alice shook her head. "Normally, I'd let you sit this one out. Aro is probably going to, since his power doesn't put too much of a strain on his body. And most of the others with mental powers or no powers will probably not partake as well. But you need to feed this time, Bella."
I looked at Alice even more quizzically. "But my power is mental too?" I pointed out.
Alice shrugged noncommittally. "Sure, sure," she said, playing it off. "But your last meal wasn't exactly… um… complete… so…"
She worded it as delicately as she could. But I still winced.
She was right. Thanks to my inexpert attempt to be merciful, at least half of my first victim's blood had ended up on the floor. So even if, under normal circumstances, I was one of the vampires who only needed to feed every other month, like Aro and most other vampires with mental powers or no powers at all, it would probably be good to feed this month again, anyway, since my last meal had been smaller than it ought to be.
It was sound logic. I had to acknowledge that.
But that didn't mean I had to like it. Or that I had to agree with it.
"But my eyes—!" I protested again.
Weren't they the gauge I should be using to measure my thirst? Wouldn't they tell me if I was thirsty?
Alice interrupted me again. "—Are still bright red, yeah. I can see that. I'm not blind, Bella," she huffed. "But you're a newborn. You've still got a lot of human blood in your tissues. So your eyes aren't going to be very reliable for a while."
I blinked, stunned at this bit of news. "They aren't?"
Alice shook her head. "Not until the extra strength wears off. And, well as long as you stay well fed, that's not going to happen until sometime next year."
I swallowed.
I knew, in the greater scheme of things, that a year wasn't very long. That a year was barely a blip on the radar of most vampire's lives.
But with how much more processing power my new brain had, my perfect memory, and how I didn't have to sleep anymore, this first month had already felt longer than the entire last year. So, another year like this seemed especially daunting.
Like I was staring into a black hole.
Realizing Alice was still looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer, I blinked rapidly, bringing myself back to the present. And mulled over my options, in light of what Alice had just said.
"You're sure I'll be thirsty when I get there?" I asked, scratching the outside of my throat experimentally.
Though I'd felt some heat flare up in it a few times over the last week—when I'd caught traces of my human scent on my old possessions, or remembered my first feed—my throat didn't even feel dry today. And that made me uneasy. I didn't want to kill any more people than I strictly had to.
Alice regarded me with surprise. "You're not thirsty yet?"
I shook my head. "At least, I don't feel it right now," I stipulated, in case there was some reason for that. Hell, if I knew.
Alice tapped her chin in thought for a quarter of a second. Then, abruptly came to a decision.
"We'll see how you feel when Heidi brings the humans in. If you're able to resist them—you can wait until next month to feed," she offered, to soothe my fears. "But if not… well, follow your instincts. They're smart, you know."
I grimaced a bit at this. I did know. All too well.
My stomach did nervous flip flops as I remembered how easy it had been for Carlisle to hunt for the first time. How he'd already known, without thinking, how to do all of it. And how, though I'd screwed things up a bit by thinking too hard, my body was essentially the same.
But, though the knowledge of what I might do when Heidi brought in all those humans made me feel a little sick, I nodded anyway. Alice was right.
She and Aro had been very careful not to let me within smelling range of any humans since my transformation. So maybe that was the secret to my lack of thirst.
But if my instincts kicked in as soon as the scent of Heidi's monthly batch reached my nostrils, that probably meant I was thirsty. And that I should, for my own health's sake, do whatever was necessary to quench that thirst.
Alice nodded back. And I did my best to force my disturbed expression into a straight face.
"Let's go," Alice said.
She turned around and danced out the door of my room before I could add any more protests. I followed her out a fraction of second later, my shuffling legs nowhere near as graceful as her ballerina-like movements, even if they could now match her speed.
We walked together through the long winding corridors in silence. Until we reached the secret panel in the wall. The panel that concealed the turret room from the outside world.
I now had a little better idea of why the Volturi hid this room. Best not to let any building inspectors with black lights come snooping around. The Volturi routinely treated the floor with bleach. But they could have missed a spot or two, over the centuries.
As Alice slid the little, secret door aside, and gestured for me to go ahead of her, that understanding really didn't make me feel any better, though. If anything, it only made me feel worse.
What the Volturi were about to do was so horrible, so heinous, it could never be allowed to see the light of day. And, if Alice's predictions about my newborn thirst were correct—and I seriously doubted they weren't—I was about to be doing it right along with them.
I was about to murder someone.
Again.
…
When Alice and I walked through the little stone antechamber beyond the panel into the turret room proper, I couldn't help but stop and suck in a little breath of surprise. The rest of the room looked radically different than it had in my human memories.
It wasn't that anything had actually changed. I'd visited this room often enough during our marching drills to know that. The curved walls and depressed floor were the same shape. And the window slits carved high in the walls of the large stone turret still cast thin, bright rectangles onto the floor just as before.
But to my vampire eyes the whole turret room was a lot brighter. Every surface I recalled being dim and indistinguishable in my human memory was now luminous and clear. So, clear I could see every tiny imperfection in the cinnamon brown stones. Every thin, hair-like crack. Every microscopic speck of dust. Every minute stain…
And it was a lot warmer too. I'd been freezing when I'd visited as a human—and only some of that could be attributed to how damp I'd been from running through the fountain. But today the thin rays of light filtering in filled the entire room with a subtle warm glow. A glow I could feel in my skin. Just like how I could feel the sun rise when I was in my room, despite the absence of any windows. Only in here, where the tall room actually penetrated the surface, it was much stronger.
It made me feel like I had been transported to an alien world. And now I thought I understood why the Volturi hadn't bothered to equip most of their castle with electricity. Dim candlelight was plenty bright for me to see by now. And direct sunlight, even in limited doses like this was a bit much.
If the Volturi had installed fluorescents everywhere…
My eyes squeezed shut in sympathetic pain. I could only imagine what that would be like.
When I opened my eyes again, I fixed them on Alice as she floated towards the back of the room. I hurried to catch up—she'd put quite the distance between us while I'd been distracted. And when I got close enough, I counted the time between each clack of her heeled boots striking the stone floor so I could match her pace.
I focused on the swirling, dark fibers of her cloak, until I got it perfect. Once I was confident that I wasn't going to accidentally crash into Alice's back, I relegated my focus on maintaining our annoyingly slow pace to a back burner in my mind, and I lifted my eyes. As they took in the room ahead, I realized, right away, that we weren't alone. Three dark figures were congregated, to my right, against the curving wall.
I recognized them instantly—Corin, Chelsea, Vera. The vampires in the Volturi guard who had physical powers. Vampires whose eyes all looked as dark as Alice's. Or, in Vera's case, much darker.
They weren't the only ones here, though.
Despite Alice's insistence that he was going to sit this meal out, Aro was seated, along the very middle of the back wall, in the center throne. His brother Caius sat a few feet to his left. And Marcus sat to his right. Their usual formation.
I spent a moment studying them. Their faces were so impassive, and their bodies so still, that they looked more like austere statues than living beings. And they were all dressed in heavy, black robes again, the way they'd been when I'd first arrived a month ago. Though I doubted they were the exact same ones, even if they looked equally expensive. I'd drenched those robes in blood.
Each of the three leaders was flanked by their pair of personal bodyguards, standing next to them on the raised stone dais that elevated the thrones a few feet above the rest of the floor. I guessed, from the way the six vampires lingered back against the wall, and didn't breathe, that they weren't participating in today's feast either. But had stayed near their masters in case of an emergency.
The wives weren't here. But, as my eyes scanned the back of the room, I noticed Aro's twin daughters—Lucretia and Titania—were present. They sat on the dais steps leading up to the three thrones. Though they didn't sit still of course. Instead, they fidgeted supernaturally fast while they played with their mangled lead blocks again.
I wasn't surewhy they were here. I couldn't imagine, from their diminutive size, that they possessed enough restraint to not participate in the feast. But, like the last time they'd fed, their eyes were still the same bright crimson hue as mine. And I wondered again what that meant.
Had their previous meal not been enough?
If they were feeding again today, that would mean they were feeding monthly, instead of bi-monthly, even though their eyes suggested, like their father's that they didn't need to. But their last meal… well…
…they had shared it.
I grimaced as the murky memory of the man's death resurfaced in my mind. And as I fought the grisly images off, I had to wonder. Are their eyes unreliable too, since they are born vampires, rather than made ones?
I couldn't be sure. But as I watched the pair, I considered another variable—their restraint. Fifty years old was still quite young for a vampire. So maybe Aro had decided that keeping them well fed, was better than allowing them to thirst and possibly act rashly as a result. Especially since he wanted his secretaries and maids to survive long enough to be useful to him.
I shivered. It was cold, but practical. Like always.
But for my mental health's sake, I tried not to think about it too hard. Instead, my eyes swept around the room, looking for any other vampires. I wanted to know who else was going to be feeding with me today. After all, I didn't want to accidentally get in Felix or Santiago's way.
I knew, from firsthand experience with their fighting prowess, how that would turn out.
But as my eyes turned and swept across the rest of the bright room, I realized they weren't here. Nor were any of the other members of the guard. Not even the bodyguards. The rest of the Volturi were sitting this one out, I guessed.
I tried not to let that bother me. Tried to remember what Alice had said—that if I wasn't thirsty, I didn't have to participate. That I could do what I assumed Aro was going to do. That is, simply watch as the gruesome scene unfolded.
But I was distracted very soon after that thought had crossed my mind. While I followed Alice across the room, I stepped into one of the thin rectangles of light. Then I caught a sudden, new glinting in the corner of my eye that made me pause. And as I inclined my head downwards towards it, I inhaled in shock.
The skin of my own hand was glittering like a thousand tiny diamonds were embedded in its surface. I blinked twice, lost for words. Then, after a moment to stupefied silence, I squinted and twisted my fingers around experimentally to make sure they were still mine.
Sure, I'd caught my skin glittering a few times before, in the bright white lights of my personal bathroom. But it was nothing like what I saw now that my hand was exposed to direct sunlight. The bathroom lights had caused my skin to issue a faint glimmer. But now I was sparkling up a storm, throwing dazzling, eight-color-rainbow light everywhere.
After a few seconds of staring at myself, I recoiled from the light, drawing my hand safely back into the darkness, where it belonged. It was indisputably beautiful. But I couldn't help but think, in light of what I now knew, that it was dangerous too.
If humanity saw me like this, they would immediately know I was different. And that observation would lead them to eventually discover the truth. That I was a vampire. And that we were their predators.
And that was a truth that humanity would not accept. A truth they would instead seek to destroy us in order to falsify. At least, according to Alice.
I shuddered involuntarily as I remembered what she had shown me. All those burning buildings. The broken streets. The bodies, both human and vampire, trapped under the smoking rubble….
I really hoped that I could be the savior Alice needed me to be. That I could be successful in preventing humanity from ever knowing about us. Because if I couldn't…
…we were all royally screwed.
After a brief pause in the light, I began moving again, trotting behind Alice like a lost child. She paused after another few seconds. And again, I copied her, arresting momentum directly in front of the three thrones.
When we came to a stop, the three women standing against the wall off to my right turned to look at us. Corin gave me an impassive nod, wearing an expression that neither looked especially friendly, nor particularly hostile. She was shy and cautious by nature. So, I didn't think she meant me any ill will.
But the same couldn't be said of Vera, who glowered darkly at me. Or Chelsea, who, in addition to having eyes like daggers, had two white fists balled at her sides.
She, for whatever reason, didn't like me. But I couldn't figure it out.
Is she still upset that Aro had given me a place one step above her in his hierarchy? Or is this about the numerous sparring matches I'd won against her and her mate? Or the countless times I'd stepped on her cloak during formation practice? Or perhaps, one of the many other mistakes I'd made in the last month?
I wasn't sure what had triggered the light-brown-haired woman's temper. But I resolved, then and there, to do everything I could to make it up to her. She'd helped me out a lot, after all—separating me from the moribund tether shackling me to Edward. So, if possible, I wanted to return the favor somehow. Not piss her off.
But before I could formulate a coherent plan, Alice unexpectedly spoke, jolting me out of my thoughts.
"So, do you think you'll be alright today?" she asked carefully. "Do you think you'll be alright feeding this time? You won't be able to snap your victim's neck. We all know how that went last time. So you'll have to… you know…" she hesitated, searching for the appropriately delicate words, "…feed from prey that's still alive. Twitching, and all that."
When she finished, she gave a demonstrative wiggle of one hand that made me want to be sick.
Okay, maybe not so sensitive. But Alice couldn't remember her human life. So maybe I ought to cut her some slack.
"…Oh God, I don't know," I admitted.
My mind vividly conjured up the scenario Alice had so candidly described. A human shrieking and flailing underneath me as I guzzled blood from their neck.
And all of a sudden—though my stomach was empty—I had to cover my mouth with one hand so I didn't throw up. I wasn't sure what that was about. But I didn't take it as a good sign.
Maybe I should back out… before I dredged up some venomy equivalent of bile?
Before I could take a single step, however, Alice's tiny arms shot out and caught my shoulders, forcing me back. "No, you're not backing out of this," she declared resolutely.
I groaned. "Why not? I'm not thirsty," I stressed.
Alice crossed her arms over her chest. "You can't know that for sure. Not until you smell human blood. Your thirst might flare up suddenly then."
My eyebrows shot up at that. "Really?"
Alice nodded. "Our thirst isn't quite the same as human hunger. I've heard humans get hungry like clockwork. But if we stay completely isolated from humans, our thirst doesn't bother us nearly as quickly as it does when we're surrounded by them."
"Another evolutionary advantage?" I guessed.
Alice nodded. "If humans are in short supply, it makes sense to limit our appetites. But that doesn't mean you won't still need the nutrition."
My breath picked up then. "So, what you're saying is… if I can stand not to feed when I smell them, then I don't actually need the nutrients. But if I can't…?"
I trailed off, unable to finish that sentence. Alice patted my shoulder affectionately while I hyperventilated.
"Don't worry, it'll all work out," she assured me. "I can't read your thoughts. But I have an idea of what you're thinking. And—" she held up a hand to silence me before I could interrupt, "—whatever you do today—even if you do have to hunt—you don't have to hate yourself for it."
She reached out with her little pale fingers to try and pat me comfortingly on the back. But I didn't want her comfort. She didn't understand what I was feeling at all.
"I would hate myself even more if I didn't hate myself…" I rebutted through gritted teeth.
Alice's face warped into a confused expression. She tapped one finger lightly against her pouty red lips. And tilted her head slightly to the left.
"That doesn't make any sense."
I threw up my hands up dramatically in exasperation. "No, it doesn't. But that's where I'm at, okay?!"
I snarled viciously at Alice. Even if she was right, it was ridiculous of her to expect me to completely divorce all negative feelings from feeding. It was only my second time. And it was an awful, gory activity. So, if I didn't hate myself for doing it, that made me an awful person.
At least, that's how I felt.
But unfortunately, I'd been a little too loud. My voice drew the attention of almost every vampire in the room. And they looked on our argument with mistrustful, disapproving eyes.
Alice panicked a bit upon seeing everyone looking this way. It wouldn't do for me to look any more reluctant to participate in the upcoming feast than necessary.
"Shhh…" Alice rushed to save face, holding a finger against her lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"
I shook my head both in disbelief that their opinions mattered more than mine. Then held up a hand—a signal that I wanted this conversation to be over.
Alice immediately shut up, leaving us to stand in awkward, tense silence. And while she pouted, wringing her petite hands, as if she really regretted speaking so insensitively towards me, I listened to the trio of vampire women, standing off to my right, huddled together against the wall.
They had started conversing animatedly with one another. And what I heard didn't make me feel very good. They were speaking in Italian. But I was fluent now. So, whether they'd intended their remarks to be secrete or not, my brain automatically translated everything they had to say.
"She's the one who is prophesied to protect us, and she can't even stomach the death of a single human?" Vera hissed.
Chelsea snorted. "Some savior."
And to my alarm, even shy Corin joined in on the ribbing. "She really isn't ready for the demands of immortality, is she?" she jibed.
I gritted my teeth. Then I shot Aro, sitting on his throne, a desperate look. A silent plea for assistance.
He caught my glance immediately. And seemed sympathetic. But just as Aro looked ready to intervene—to intercede with a good word on my behalf—we were all unexpectedly interrupted.
There was a quiet knock, a gentle rapping against the exterior wall several feet away, followed by the almost imperceptible sound of stealthy footsteps. Then another knock somewhat closer. And more footsteps, as though whoever was roaming around outside was searching for the secret entrance to this room. But wasn't quite sure exactly where to find it. And thus, had to listen to the hollow echo in order to determine where it was.
All bodies in this room, including mine stiffened as the soft strikes against the outside paneling grew increasingly near. And at first, I wondered why Aro didn't send someone out there to tell his secretary to cut it out. Until I caught a whiff of that person's inhuman and distinctly unfamiliar scent.
The person trying to find this room wasn't one of Aro's human employees. Nor was it any member of the guard. I recognized all of their scents now. And none of them smelled like eucalyptus and saffron. So, it had to be some other, unknown vampire.
A vampire whose purpose in looking for us couldn't be known.
Suddenly, I realized there was another reason to conceal this door. Apparently, there were others who knew how to navigate through the labyrinthine Volturi fortress. And a few flimsy iron locks and human receptionists were hardly enough to stop them.
Realizing at the same time that it could be one of the Volturi's many enemies, Caius and I both frantically turned to Alice. We silently petitioned her with desperate eyes to reveal who was coming for us.
Neither of us expected her response, however. Alice's delicately sculpted brows raised. Her painted lips opened in an "o" of surprise. And she momentarily looked horrified. Before suddenly her face erupted into a brilliant smile.
"He's here!" She chirped happily in Italian. She bounced up and down on her heels and clapped her hands. "Open the door!"
Caius' face reflected my confusion. Alice hadn't specified who was here.
And every other chalky face in the room eyed her with skepticism. I guessed they feared she might have betrayed them by leading someone dangerous here to try and overthrow them.
In the moment that followed Alice's ambiguous remark however, the intruder suddenly found the panel which concealed the plain wooden entrance door. They slid it hastily aside. And slipped into the stone antechamber beyond.
We couldn't see them yet—they were still obscured behind the narrow walls. But we could hear their footsteps approaching.
In response, Caius immediately lighted from his throne. And once he had descended the steps leading up to the thrones, he adopted a confrontational stance.
I swallowed. That was never a good sign. Then let my eyes flicker away from him to observe the reactions of the bodyguards and the other two leaders.
Ichika and Niko charged forward, snarling with a fury that matched Caius', and planted themselves defensively in front of him. Renata and Makenna's sandy faces looked anxious and panicky as they flitted forward to protect their master. Aro, still sitting in his throne behind them, looking equally frightened. Kofe and Wambua were stiff with tension, but didn't move from their positions. And Marcus was staring straight ahead with the same, unimpassioned boredom as ever.
The three leaders and their bodyguards weren't the only ones to react, however.
As the unfamiliar vampire walked toward us, their footsteps echoing loudly from the stone antechamber, Titania and Lucretia darted up the small dais steps to cower beside their father's throne. Corin and Chelsea exchanged worried glances. And Vera glared at me even harder than before. As if she thought this was somehow my fault.
I didn't know what to feel.
Alice was still beaming like an idiot. Which I hoped meant good things. And not that we were all about to die.
But everyone else either looked petrified with terror, or ready to pounce. Ready to leap into action as soon as whoever it was finally crossed the threshold into forbidden territory.
My legs tensed in preparation to bolt, either towards or away from the enemy….
But just then, a blue jean clad leg stepped out of the antechamber into the room. And as my eyes trailed all the way up the encroaching figure, I stumbled backwards in shock.
Jasper?
It certainly looked like him. He had the same artfully disheveled mop of curly honey blond hair that fell just above his collar. The same strong masculine features. And the same lean, tall build, I remembered from before.
But he looked so different to my new eyes it was hard to be sure.
Was he the same person I'd met in Forks? His eyes, instead of the familiar color of melted gold were a frightening obsidian. The dark circles underneath them were especially pronounced today—a deep, dark grape color, which contrasted so sharply with his pale skin that it made him look like a racoon. And his porcelain skin had a slight greenish tint to it. A hue I'd only seen before in Aro's memories and was shocked to see in person.
So sickly.
But more shocking than the state of thirst he clearly displayed—and that was very shocking—were all the strange scars I saw covering almost every inch of his exposed skin. The Jasper-look-alike had his shirtsleeves pushed up to his elbows. And across his forearms were a thousand silvery half-moons layered over each other, creating an odd, ridged texture.
It took me a twenty-eighth of a second to realize what I was looking at. And when I did, I gasped in horror.
Vampire bite marks.
Each individual crescent was so faint. But it was impossible, having a scar like that myself, to mistake them for anything else. James' bite mark on my wrist was the only injury Aro's venom hadn't washed away. But even if it had, I would recognize those thirty-two tiny ridges anywhere.
While I stared, stunned in terror, I rationalized this had to be the same Jasper I'd met before. And his scars must simply be faint enough to be invisible to the human eye. Which would explain why I had never noticed them before.
It was the only explanation that made a modicum of sense. After all, Jasper didn't have a twin.
But still, even with that reassurance I couldn't stop staring. Particularly at his scars.
As a vampire they all stood out so strongly—his most defining feature. They were very bright where they crisscrossed over his wiry arms—like platinum chains. And they were concentrated especially thick around his neck, making the sliver of skin visible above his turtleneck glow like a violent, neon sign.
As my eyes roved over Jasper again and again, I couldn't make sense of it. What had happened to him?
I had no idea how anyone, vampire or not, could sustain that many vampire bites. Shouldn't he be dead?
I felt a flash of fear race up my spine. But instead of being scared for Jasper, something about all those little silvery shapes, made me scared ofhim.
Dangerous, they screamed. How many vampires had tried to kill Jasper? As many as had died in the attempt.
A collective shudder passed through the room when everyone saw them—those bright, half-circular lines advertising how lethal Jasper was. But before any of the guard could get too anxious, Aro issued a silent ceasefire.
It was a cue I recognized automatically now—the gradual lowering of his hands. And it caused every muscle in the room to relax slightly.
"Dearest Jasper, what brings you here?" Aro inquired in velvety, smooth English.
He rose fluidly from his throne and glided with unnatural ease down the dais steps. His movements were flawless as always. And my gaze broke from Jasper to marvel at them for a moment.
Aro drifted across the circular floor until he was only a few feet away from Jasper. He stopped and looked over the younger vampire riddled in scars curiously.
Jasper shifted nervously in his signature cowboy boots under Aro's scrutiny. He sought Alice out in the crowd.
She gave him a shallow nod of approval. Then he confidently squared his shoulders, and explained, in a soft voice, tinged with a slight southern accent.
"Sir, I've come to be with my lady, of course," he said. He crossed one arm over his chest and gave the slightest of bows as a gesture of respect and good faith.
It was a sign of submission to the Volturi's authority. A sign which Aro seemed to accept, given the way the concerned edge lurking beneath his more overt facial expression disappeared.
"Ah yes, Alice did tell me you were considering coming," Aro recalled with a soft smile. Then he eagerly extended an upturned palm in Jasper's direction. "May I?"
He was clearly excited with the prospect of obtaining Jasper's lifetime of thoughts.
Jasper was less enthusiastic about the idea. Though he complied anyway. With no more protest than a slight frown, he slipped his hand gradually atop Aro's. And then he stood very still, waiting.
Aro intimately entwined their fingers—which made Jasper's frown deepen. Then he bent over the connection of skin.
The entire room was silent for several minutes as Aro poured over Jasper's thoughts. But at least it was a rather comfortable silence.
The bodyguards unanimously decided that Jasper no longer posed a threat. So, they dispersed from their battle positions. Corin, Chelsea and Vera all relaxed as soon as the bodyguards were back against the wall. And even Aro's twin daughters eventually, quietly slinked back down the steps.
We waited for a minute in absolute quiet. Then Aro abruptly detached his hand from Jasper's. And his head suddenly jerked upwards, his crimson eyes staring deeply into Jasper's obsidian irises.
"I see that you are rather thirsty," Aro remarked, his teeth adding a slight hiss to the "s" in thirsty.
Jasper immediately ducked his head, avoiding Aro's gaze. Then he shuffled uncomfortably in his boots.
Aro, however, deliberately refused to take the hint. "We are about to feed. If you would like to join us…"
He offered this casually, as though it was a courtesy he extended towards every visitor. Though the shocked looks on Chelsea's and Caius' faces betrayed the truth that it was a much bigger deal than he was letting on.
"How do you do it?" Jasper interrupted in a sharp, pained tone. "You see all of their thoughts before you bite them, don't you? How can you kill when you know them so closely?"
Aro's polite façade faltered. And his face became heavily overshadowed with a look of lamentation.
"It was not always so easy…" he tentatively admitted. "But it becomes more bearable with time," he assured Jasper.
But Jasper looked incredulous. "How can it ever get easier? None of our victims want to die."
Jasper swallowed thickly. Then he blinked rapidly, as though trying to dispel some awful memory.
Alice's lips curled into an uncertain frown. She didn't quite seem to know the proper response to her mate's distress.
"That is true," Aro acknowledged with a sorrowful nod. Then his mood rapidly shifted. "But that does not mean I cannot bring myself to enjoy it."
A cruel smirk besmirched Aro's lips. And his eyes glittered with satisfaction. He obviously liked drinking human blood very much.
Jasper frowned again. Then glanced warily back towards Alice. His expression clearly said you really work for this lunatic now?
Alice didn't react. So Japser reverted his unconvinced gaze towards Aro, waiting for him to continue in his explanation. Waiting for him to explain how he managed to revel in, rather than regret his meals.
Aro pointed at his twin daughters, sitting on the dais steps behind him. "Shall I have my daughters show you how I accomplish this?"
Jasper momentarily looked stunned—more out of a sense that he wasn't worthy of such an honor than ignorance of what Aro's daughters could do. But his curiosity won him over in the end.
He slowly nodded.
At Jasper's gradual movement, the twins darted forward. The luxurious, Victorian-era dresses they were wearing rustled around them, before they abruptly stopped beside their father. Then they immediately began arranging themselves in the familiar formation they had used to share memories with me earlier.
Titania quickly took her father's lowered palm and seized one of her sister's hands. Then Lucretia reached out gradually towards Jasper, waiting for him to accept her diminutive hand.
After a few nearly untraceable moments of nervous hesitation, Jasper took a leap of faith. He grasped Lucretia's tiny fingers amid his own much larger ones. Then suddenly, the chain was complete. And Jasper was transported into some unknown portion of Aro's litany of memories.
It was some minutes before Aro broke the chain.
Once he came back to reality, Jasper looked up at Aro in awe. Clearly, whatever Aro had shown him had blown his mind.
But also, judging by the way Jasper pursed his lips and refused to comment aloud on what he had seen, I gauged that it was intensely personal. That Aro had graciously entrusted Jasper with some of his most profound secrets. And trusted him to keep them.
Of course, if Aro had shown Jasper what I thought—a slew of his feedings—I wasn't surprised. Drinking human blood was an orgasmic experience. And to feel that from someone else's perspective was probably almost as intimate as reading someone's thoughts in the bedroom.
Thankfully, the only memory Aro had shared with me where human blood was consumed was when he had brought Carlisle back to life. And that was plenty awkward enough to have eternally embedded in my mind on its own.
But to feel what Aro had felt every single time he had eaten, or even just ten or twenty of such experiences and to have that become an irrevocable part of you?
That was something else.
"Do you understand now, my friend?" Aro asked considerately, after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.
Jasper nodded. "I understand, sir," he affirmed, stressing the title. I guessed he wanted to make sure that that everyone knew he respected Aro's authority, but he did not accept the man as a friend.
"However…" Jasper began hesitantly, "…with my gift, I feel all the emotions in the room. Not just one," he explained. "And every human brought here will be terrified!"
Aro responded with a short, solemn nod. This he already knew.
But Jasper's voice had broken with emotion at the end of his last sentence. Then, he had cringed and clutched his chest like he was in physical pain. And his sudden guilty expression, combined with his wavy blonde locks, reminded me instantly of Carlisle.
I flinched in response to Jasper's obvious agony. And Aro too, looked moved by Jasper's pain. He floated forward to offer some form of physical comfort—maybe a pat on the shoulder?
But Jasper shied away from his touch. And Aro did not pursue him any further.
"Unfortunately, yes," Aro conceded sadly, a second later. Then his expression brightened and a venomy grin suddenly cracked across his face. "…But every vampire will be delighted," he reminded Jasper.
I felt shivers race down my spine.
I had enough reservations about myself getting through today guilt-free. But Jasper had it far worse. I only had to deal with the protests of my own conscience. But Jasper would be drowning in a whirlpool of emotion. All that human pain and fear mixed together with so many vampires feeling the highest pleasure in the universe.
That would be quite the experience for an empath.
I wondered if Jasper would be able to stomach it.
"Have you made up your mind?" Aro probed curiously, forcing my attention back on him. "Alice told me yesterday when you began your journey that you kept changing your decision. One minute, you wanted to come work alongside her. And the next, you want to turn around and go back to the Cullens."
"In fact," Aro added, speaking over the guard who had begun to murmur amongst themselves, "You changed your mind so frequently, I did not alert my bodyguards to your imminent arrival. After all, why trouble them when it was so likely you would turn around before you even stepped foot inside our fortress?"
That's why Aro never said anything? Because Jasper had been indecisive the whole way here? Always threatening to turn around and go back to Forks?
I felt like that was a poor excuse for keeping us all in the dark. For making us all panic when Jasper finally did arrive. But I wasn't the one with over a millennium of experience running the Volturi under my belt.
"So, tell me, young Jasper," Aro encouraged, his feathery voice breaking me out of my thoughts again, "Have you finally settled on a single choice?"
Jasper looked quizzically at Aro. "You already know my decision."
Aro smiled broadly. "Then let me ask you this, will you agree to join us when Heidi returns?"
It struck me, as he extended his hand cordially towards Jasper, that Aro was asking more than whether or not Jasper wanted to participate in this one meal. No, he was also asking whether Jasper wanted to join the Volturi.
The deeper implications of Aro's statement weren't lost on Jasper. He shot a fleeting glance down towards the gleaming, slivery chain hanging from Aro's neck—the chain bearing his Volturi necklace. Then, suddenly, he looked up.
"Yes, I will join you, sir," Jasper declared. "For the meal, and as long as Alice needs me here."
"Marvelous!" Aro exclaimed. He didn't seem to mind the caveats Jasper had used to hedge his statement. Regardless, his eager hands danced around his head in animated excitement. "You will make an excellent addition to the guard…" he appraised.
Aro trailed off, steepling his thin fingers together in contemplation. I imagined he was pondering precisely which position on his tactically arranged chessboard Jasper ought to occupy. But the reverence in his tone left a sour taste in my mouth.
Did Aro flatter all of his potential candidates like this? I wondered bitterly.
"You would not mind utilizing your gifts in our favor?" Aro asked.
I wanted to snort with laughter. It wasn't really a question. This was Aro's faux-polite way of commanding Jasper to commit all of his time and talents to the service of the Volturi.
Of course, Alice must have prepared him for this event—after all, he was able to find the secret entrance without any assistance. So, Jasper wasn't duped by Aro's manipulation.
"I figured you would expect as much," Jasper said evenly. Though his gritted teeth betrayed his underlying distaste.
There was a beat of silence. Jasper's hollow, pitch-black eyes swerved to land on Alice. And I was surprised to see that his cool stare warmed only marginally.
While Alice smiled sheepishly at him to try and cheer him up, Aro licked his lips. "Are you excited to finally quench your thirst properly?" he asked, wearing a look of deranged glee.
"To be perfectly honest with you, sir, I do not look forward to this meal," Jasper surprised us all by asserting, in spite of his rather obvious and extreme state of thirst. "But Alice wants me here, so I'll do whatever I must to stay," he huffed in exasperation.
His annoyance boggled my mind. Alice had made it sound like Jasper would eventually join of his own volition. Though, in reality, it looked more like he felt compelled to be here, rather than was convinced it was in his best interest.
Aro looked ever-so-slightly apologetic, as if he fully understood Jasper's motives. Which, I suppose he now did, having read his thoughts.
Then, after a moment, Aro smiled faintly—a small, close-lipped affair. "Of course."
"Master, if I may object—" a protest suddenly sliced through the musty air.
I whirled, with everyone else, to face it. And discovered that it belonged to Chelsea.
Her flawless features reflected considerable worry. And I guessed she must have felt Jasper's induction would threaten her critical position as the lynchpin of Aro's organization.
"Do not worry, Chelsea. His powers do not invalidate my need for yours," Aro intoned melodically, directly addressing her fears. "Jasper is a different sort of empath…" he continued. "He can only influence the surface feelings of those in his immediate vicinity. Isn't that right, dear Jasper?"
My eyes shot open, curious to see his response.
"That is correct, sir," Jasper curtly confirmed.
"Might we have a demonstration?"
Aro turned his palm upwards and extended it in Jasper's direction. He evidently expected that the younger vampire would comply with his suggestion to test his powers.
But Jasper resolutely shook his head. And every pallid face in the room, including mine, contorted with shock. It wasn't good manners to refuse the decree of a king.
"Not right now…" Jasper gasped. "I would. But sir, I don't… I don't have the energy…"
As he choked out his excuse, I noticed his voice was suddenly rasping, and jarringly dry. And, as if to hit the point home even harder, as soon as he was finished explaining, his fingers darted up to curl around and scratch at his throat.
"Ah, how silly of me!" Aro exclaimed, splaying fingers dramatically over his unbeating heart as if he was aghast with himself. "Sometime after we feed, then…" he amended quickly.
Jasper nodded slowly, numbly, in response to Aro's adjusted command. Apparently, he was not entirely convinced that partaking in the Volturi's meal was a good idea. But whatever protests he still had, I imagined were quickly being drowned out by thirst.
It looked to me like Jasper was on the brink of starving to death. Mere days away from collapsing like Carlisle had a few centuries ago.
But unlike Carlisle, Jasper was not so good at hiding it. In the next few minutes he struggled valiantly to pry his clawing hands away from his neck and wait patiently for Heidi's return. Unfortunately, it seemed his abilities to mask his pain were all depleted now. He couldn't seem to dislodge his tenacious fingers. Nor to prevent a few labored hisses from escaping his parched lips.
Aro didn't miss it. "You have not hunted humans in some time, have you?" he asked Jasper after several minutes.
It was somewhat of a pointless question. Aro, from his gift, already knew the answer. But I guess he wanted the empath to speak the answer aloud, for our benefit.
Reluctantly Jasper shook his head. "It's been three years," he confessed.
Aro gasped.
And Alice mirrored his horror. "But I thought you slipped up plenty!" she cried, distressed.
She then threw her hands out wide in front of her, as if to visually demonstrate just how frequent Jasper had "lapsed" back into his natural diet despite his valiant efforts.
Involuntarily, I cringed as my all-to-vivid imagination conjured up crystal-clear images of Jasper in a variety of time periods and locations across the United States—mostly in high schools—lashing out and murdering someone standing too close to him.
I desperately hoped that he had been lucid enough to avoid doing so in front of too many witnesses. That he hadn't been forced to add whole classrooms to his body count the way Edward almost had when he'd contemplated murdering me in Biology.
But I couldn't be sure.
"I thought—" Alice continued with a perplexed voice, before she was abruptly interrupted.
"Did you ever once see me with red eyes since we moved to Forks? Aside from the few times each year Carlisle provided me with just enough bagged blood to get by?" Jasper bit back with surprising rancor.
That shut Alice up immediately. Apparently, she hadn't.
"Still, that is a long time to go without complete satiation," Aro mused aloud, shaking his head as though he couldn't quite believe it.
"Yes, it is," Alice agreed. "So, why, in those three years, didn't you ever hunt properly?" she snarled viciously at Jasper in disapproval.
"In case you didn't notice ma'am, I was really starting to like the whole not-killing-people-thing!" Jasper snarled back. "I know it's unsustainable," he sighed dejectedly, obviously wishing that wasn't the case. "But it was so nice just for a while to not have to feel their terror. Every. Single. Time."
Jasper's dark eyes glittered with emotion, before they snapped shut in pain. Then his hands instinctively constricted even tighter around his throat. And I worried that he might accidentally decapitate himself with all the pressure he was exerting there.
"That's why I did it—not for your little scheme to save the species." He spat the words like they were poison, making Alice flinch. "But for me."
He punctuated this last statement by jabbing a finger at his chest.
"I was willing to trade my health for peace of mind," he declared.
Alice immediately opened her mouth to argue, before she abruptly reconsidered her decision. She had probably seen that the possible futures of that choice were undesirable. So she snapped her mouth shut and took a deep breath.
"And now?" she asked slowly, perplexed by Jasper's apparent change of heart.
Jasper glowered icily at Alice—an expression that looked much more appropriate on Caius than the empathetic Texan vampire. "You know I can't be separated from you for too long, my mate," he said coldly.
Chelsea let out a stifled gasp. Marcus stirred nearly imperceptibly in his seat. And I was confused again.
Something was going on here that I didn't understand. Alice and Jasper were not behaving like the amorous couple I had seen in Forks.
Obviously, there was a huge rift happening in their marriage over dietary disagreements. But I sensed that wasn't the only reason behind what Marcus must be seeing with his power. And what Chelsea could apparently feel too.
This tension between Alice and Jasper ran deeper than that. And it was making me seriously question what being mated meant.
Right now, the couple was silent. But their actions spoke volumes. Alice hung her head and wrung her hands in discomfort. And Jasper stared murderously at her, like he wanted her to melt on the spot.
Did he even like her? I wondered, with a jolt of horror. Or was he just stuck with her?
While I silently fretted, Aro cleared his throat to dispel some of the tension. Immediately, all eyes flicked to him. But he only looked at Jasper.
"Heidi is bringing twenty people this time—three of which are extras I could reserve for you. Is that acceptable, my friend?" he asked, clearly willing to make adjustments if necessary.
This time Jasper didn't protest to the amicable appellation. I guess his thirst was catching up to him so quickly he no longer had the presence of mind to care.
"That is very generous of you," he gasped out, nodding. "But if it isn't enough…"
He trailed off, audibly gulping back the rest of his sentence. As though the words were too painful to speak aloud.
"Then I will take you hunting myself, outside city limits," Aro finished for him without even a glimmer of hesitation.
Jasper pursed his lips and bobbed his head obediently. Though I could tell there was no real enthusiasm in it. The last thing Jasper wanted was to endure any more human death.
While Jasper looked forlorn, I wondered if he would need to take Aro up on that. Three people had a lot of blood. Around three and half gallons. And I found it hard to believe, as a vampire myself, that another vampire could imbibe that much blood in one sitting, let alone more.
But I'd seen a few vampires do it before. Also, I knew how quickly those with physical powers deteriorated on a diet of animal blood. And I could see just how thirsty he was now—clawing at his own throat and hissing, the sounds growing more animalistic and less sane with every passing second.
So it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. And I could only hope, as we all stood, congregated in the turret room, that he could bear to wait a little longer. At least until Heidi arrived.
I wasn't sure exactly how long that was going to be.
But I was fairly certain that Aro's staff wanted to keep their throats intact.
…
To my considerable relief, Heidi arrived only twenty minutes later. While she tended to dress more dowdily during our foreign language lessons—probably in a futile attempt to tone down her allure, when I turned around to see her coming, I noticed she was dressed seductively again today. A short, sunny white dress swished around her, as she swayed her hips mesmerizingly. And matching gladiator sandals laced half-way up her thighs.
Dark brown contacts hid the most obvious sign of her vampirism. But she still looked otherworldly—like a sun-kissed goddess. And when she strolled into the turret room, fifteen hapless tourists from around the world trailed in behind her, wearing dazed, faraway smiles. Like they were under some kind of spell.
Many of the tourists held flashing cameras. Just like before. The repeated pulses of light as they snapped pictures of the turret room and its occupants were bright enough to make me wince automatically. But, to my surprise, the stark illumination didn't actually hurt. Or really impair my vision in any way. I was still able to see just fine.
I blinked a few times, to get used to that. Then went back to studying the tourists while they obliviously snapped away. But as my supernaturally enhanced eyes roved over them, I was stunned once again by how ugly they all were.
Their skin, where it wasn't covered by fabric, was coarse, porous, weathered and sometimes had oily protrusions, or little random hairs. Their features were all crooked, and out of proportion. Several had gnarled, yellow teeth. And one had hands covered in knobby little warts.
I staggered back, automatically repulsed. But just then, a rush of mouthwatering smells assaulted my nose. And my opinion of the humans changed instantly.
While the outside of the tourists was utterly unappealing, something inside them smelled hot, metallic, and delicious. Each smell was a little different—perhaps a little sweeter, or a little saltier. But they all mingled together in the dusty turret room air, creating a tantalizing, coppery bouquet.
I inhaled sharply, drinking in the aroma. Then, like Alice had warned me might happen, my thirst suddenly flared to life.
My throat pulsed with fire, like someone had shoved a branding iron down it. My mouth suddenly felt so dry, like all the moisture in the world had evaporated. And my teeth slicked with venom.
So much blood, I thought gluttonously.
Too much, I rephrased as my eyes flickered again over the mass of humans. There was no way I could drain that many.
But before I could remember the obvious fact that not all these humans were meant for me, I heard a low, savage growl erupt behind me—a sound like a feral wildcat. Then I saw Jasper whip past me, his chin streaming with venom, and his obsidian eyes locked on the nearest neck.
The smell must have hit him at the same time. But Jasper, it seemed, was even more far-gone than me. Which was surprising.
I was the newborn. According to Alice, I was supposed to be the one that was out-of-control. But even with flames scorching my throat all of a sudden, and the overwhelming scent beckoning to me, I hesitated.
We were supposed to wait for Aro's signal. That was something he'd taught me in our etiquette classes.
Though, whether or not Jasper knew that, he clearly didn't care. He furiously tackled the first human in his path, bashing their skull fatally against the floor. Then, while the human's cracked open head began bleeding out on the flagstones, Jasper bit hard into their neck. And enthusiastically swallowed the ensuing fluids.
It had happened so fast. And it was a sight so brutal, so raw, that it ought to have made my stomach churn. But surprisingly, this time, it didn't. Instead it only made me hungrier.
Thick droplets of drool leaked from the corner of my mouth while Jasper messily ate. And my eyes eagerly followed the trail of red.
They focused first on the viscous blood pooled behind the man's head where it had struck the ground. It was like a scarlet lake of melted chocolate. Then, after a moment, they flicked over to see more blood being sucked from the human's throat into Jasper's eager mouth. Blood that stained his lips.
The sight, gruesome as it was, was strangely beautiful. And the smell wafting from the man's corpse was sweeter than I would have preferred. But it was tasty enough to trigger the appropriate instincts.
I bared my teeth instinctively. And nearly lowered into a crouch, ready to spring onto Jasper and wrestle him away. So that I could drink from the human's neck myself.
Then I remembered I was being silly. There was plenty of blood to go around.
While I straightened up, the rest of the vampires participating in today's meal seemed to process what had occurred. That Jasper had already made the first kill.
And once they registered that fact, they needed no further prompting. Even though Aro had not given the signal.
Vera, Chelsea, Corin, Alice and Heidi surged forward at once. Towards the center of the room, where the bulk of the tourists were congregated. Marcus only waited a fraction of a second to join them. And Aro's daughters skipped happily behind him, joining the wall of black shapes sprinting forward.
The vampires' feet thundered loudly across the floor just like before. Their cloaks whipped furiously around them, in the same way too. Though there were less cloaks this time. And the instant the vampires began to charge, I saw nineteen pairs of human eyes widen with horror. And heard a chorus of high-pitched screams.
I felt a strange sense of déjà vu ripple through me when I heard that sound.
Once again, the feast had begun.