I followed Aro back through the tunnels in dazed silence. I still couldn't believe it. Animals. To live off their blood—to even try it—would never have occurred to me, and yet it was so simple. Blood was blood, wasn't it?

A clamor of defiance burned in my throat at the memory of the awful taste, but I shoved it down, distracted, sifting through my memories. I remembered the way various animals had shied away from me over the years, particularly the time I had tried to ride a horse again. I had wondered at the horse's reaction at the time, unsure why it was so afraid of me when I wasn't one of its natural predators. In the end, I had chalked it up to my unfamiliar scent, but now I wasn't so sure. We vampires had some very animalistic traits, after all. An older memory surfaced at that thought, blurry and human: some debate going on about animals and humans being related. The theory of evolution and its accompanying scandal. Regardless of where any of us came from, in the end, were vampires somewhere between animals and people? Did that mean that animal blood made just as much sense as human blood?

"Is something the matter?" Aro asked, turning around to see why I wasn't keeping up.

"Far from it, Master," I said, quickening my pace. I tried to think of something elegant to say, any words that would express the profound gratitude I felt, and not just for this new possibility. I was well aware of how many special accommodations I had been given since my arrival in Volterra, and who it was that had given me chance after chance. In the end I simply offered him my hand again, which he took.

"Ah," he said with a fond smile. "It brings me happiness, my young friend, to free you from your suffering. Truly. And I share your curiosity about our origins, our... classification, if you will."

"I wondered if you knew something," I said. "considering how old you are." I bit my lip, sure that wasn't the proper way to speak. "I mean..."

Aro laughed freely. "Not quite that ancient! A mere three thousand years, give or take an epoch. There are some walking this earth today who are even older. And many more ancient ones, alas, who walk it no longer. You mustn't feel ashamed at your failure to solve your little problem on your own, Jasper. Your short life has been a very small, sheltered one, and I am pleased to open our world to you. You will find Volterra to be a center for arts and culture and knowledge, as well as our home and our center of operations. You will hear the old songs and tales in time, and then you may believe what you will about our beginnings."

I nodded dumbly, still stuck on the idea of someone being three thousand years old. I had assumed as much, but I still couldn't wrap my head around it. I opened the door at the end of the tunnel when we reached it, waiting for Aro to pass through before I extinguished the torch and put it back into place.

"But to answer your question," Aro went on, "No. Feeding on animals is not at all normal for our kind. Your fellow Guards will no doubt see it more as a punishment than anything else. I see this experiment as a medical diet of sorts; there are humans who must subsist on special foods, so perhaps this is no different. There are physicians among our kind, after all, and I cannot claim expertise. I cannot even promise this experiment will succeed, though it must be tried."

"It will succeed," I assured him. "I swear it."

.

.

.

I found it easier to focus on my Italian lessons almost at once, and I even ran through the menial chores I had been assigned with renewed energy. I still couldn't believe it. I didn't have to kill anymore.

It wasn't just the incredible relief at the thought of never suffering my victims' horror again. That in and of itself seemed almost too good to be true—and maybe it was. Maybe there really was no way for me to enjoy the hunt like other vampires, what with the horrid taste of animal blood on one hand and emotional pain in the other. If that was as good a trade-off as I could hope for, I'd take it and be grateful. And orders were orders. It wasn't just that. It was the revolutionary idea of not having to be a killer anymore.

I wasn't under any delusion that I would never kill again; I couldn't fathom the prospect of not having one single human in the coming months and years. Surely that wasn't what Aro had in mind. And once I had earned the trust of my superiors, I fully expected to take part in battles and executions. Hopefully with muscle around like Felix and Gustav, I might not have to face the latter too often, but I was here to be a soldier. I would fight when the time came. I would kill when I was ordered to kill. But Volterra was a different world than the cycle of dead-end violence I had spent the past eighty years surviving. Here, I could expect to see the same faces a century down the road. Every one of us in the Guard was valued, a trusted member of a team. I could let myself form attachments—maybe even friendships—because I didn't need to fear that I'd soon be ordered to turn around and slaughter my fellow soldiers. It was a freedom I'd never allowed myself before, not even with Peter. Even with the trust we'd forged over our years of working together and fighting back to back, I'd always held him at arms' length, knowing that the day might come when I would have to end him myself for one reason or another. I didn't have to do that here.

But even when Peter had freed me from that dog-eat-dog world, I was still a monster. My remaining victims were only humans, but I still didn't enjoy being the one to end lives, even short and fragile ones. What was it Charlotte had said when she had explained why they fed less often now?

I don't like being a monster. It's quite nice to be able to be able to go a few days without killing. It helps us forget, for a while, what we are. To just be ourselves...

That was it. I hadn't understood at the time. After all, what "self" did I have left other than what I was? What I had become, and what I had done? But now that I could strip away all the murder and the betrayal and even the monstrosity of my appetite, Aro was giving me the unexpected chance to see who I was. And... I didn't know the answer to that question. Not yet. To see myself as anything besides a monster was enough for now.

When my chores around the castle were finally done—Chelsea had added a couple of extra odd jobs since several others were away—I went back to my quarters to think. I still didn't feel at home enough to poke around all the empty rooms and mysterious halls without an escort. But for now, at least, I was more than happy to be in my little space and revel in the change. I stared into the cold ashes of the fireplace, wondering if the day might come when I'd be able to enjoy a cozy fire without hearing and feeling things that weren't there. I pored over the books whose titles I still couldn't read, wondering if a day might come when I would be as cultured and refined as some of the others here. I glanced over the empty surface of the enormous dresser, wondering if a day might come when I'd be so settled and comfortable that it'd be filled with my own books, my own belongings, mementos full of new memories... maybe even an instrument or two, or some little project I'd be in the middle of? I'd always thought of the accumulation of possessions as a human trait, but that clearly wasn't the case. And then I thought of when Demetri had showed me Chelsea and Afton's quarters, and my impression that Aro might be mated to one of the new ladies I had seen in the dining room yesterday... and that opened up a whole new world of possibilities. Would I be alone for the rest of eternity, or might someone come along after all? Despite the relative safety this new world offered, the idea still scared the hell out of me... but now in a curious, pleasant sort of way.

I ran my fingers along the polished wood of the dresser, coming to a stop above the drawer in which I had stashed my meager belongings. I opened it and took out the frayed, rumpled picture of the pilot whose life I had tried and failed to save. When I had kicked my way out of his drowned airplane I had sworn up and down that I would never let my guard down like that again. It was one thing to enjoy the emotional flavors of any human lives I might find myself near, when I knew I wasn't planning on ending any of those lives, but I had let myself get too wrapped up in one individual human for a minute there, and I had paid the price for that mistake in the end. He had paid an even heavier price, and that was exactly why it had been a mistake.

But now... I let myself look again at Steve's face, at the faces of his wife and child. I remembered the tender longing he had shared with me when he had spoken of going back home to his little family. I remembered the hushed stories shared by the sailors on the aircraft carrier as they remembered my victims... how those stories had felt. Foolish as it was, some forgotten part of me wanted to let my scarred heart open again—just a crack, maybe—to stories like that. If I really could be done hunting them, then maybe I could afford to let myself think of them as people again... on a case-by-case basis.

It was a fine idea. There wasn't really much point to it, I supposed, other than appreciating the fiction and biographies I had begun reading since my arrival; I'd be spending the rest of my foreseeable future hidden here underground, poking around in forests for my meals instead of houses. It was unlikely I'd be spending much time around humans at all anymore. But I surprised myself with this new shred of hope, that when I did come across them now and then, maybe I could see them as people instead of potential meals... potential targets. That I could fully enjoy any and all of their positive emotions about their short little lives, blissfully free of the reminder that I wasn't just other, but that I was the villain who had come to end those lives—or worse, if they were lucky enough to be chosen. A monster they'd only met in their nightmares before that moment.

My throat blazed suddenly at the thought. I swallowed reflexively, trying not to remember how glorious the blood had tasted yesterday when I had fed on the young couple in the dining room. I hadn't known it was to be my last real meal, at least for a long time... I squeezed my eyes shut, savoring the memory on my tongue. Which made it worse, naturally. Venom flooded my mouth, burning my parched throat with its acid on the way down. Their blood had been so good, and I hadn't known how important it was to let myself enjoy it, even for those few precious seconds before my gift ruined it all. It had been so sweet, such a flood of relief...

Stop, I thought harshly. Hadn't I just been telling myself how much better this was going to make everything? I looked down at the picture in my hands again, annoyed to see how my fingers had crumpled it even more when I'd been thinking about the blood. I smoothed it back out and tried to remind myself how nice it would be to leave lives like Steve's untouched, but now all I could think about was the spot on his neck that I'd gone for when the frenzy had hit me. I dropped it back into the drawer and shut it away, returning back to my desk to work on my Italian.

I had trouble focusing. And when I went out to light the torches again and tried to study again, it was even harder. Chelsea had taught me the trick of studying and reading out loud, and so I tried that. It helped, but I was alarmed at how fast my thirst was taking over. It hadn't even been two full days yet, and I'd had two humans plus the wolf. I didn't think it was anything about the animal blood itself; it couldn't be, with all the human blood still in me. It was probably a trick of the mind, some desperate need for the real thing merely because I knew I wasn't going to get it. At least Aro had granted me one final concession, considering the unusual experiment we were embarking on here: when we had parted ways after I tried the wolf, he had promised that I would be allowed to go out into the hills behind the church and feed twice a week, at least at first. I'd be under guard the whole time, and I couldn't honestly look forward to feeding that way again, but at least I knew I'd have blood in just two more days.

It wasn't just the thirst that was wearing on me. My hip still wasn't healing the way it should from the dismemberment several days ago; if anything, it was worse. I examined the skin all the way around; perfect fusion. But a bone-deep ache still plagued me. I was fervently thankful that Caius and Felix were gone, and that my training was on hold; I would find it difficult to participate right now.

After another round of chores and studying, I couldn't deny that something was seriously wrong. The pain was sharpening to a localized burn somewhere deep inside, and my muscles still weren't working right. A suspicion was beginning to itch at the back of my mind. And if my suspicion was correct, something would have to be done about it.

There are physicians among our kind, after all.

Well, I had the next two hours free. I threaded my way through the stairway and halls, making my way to Amin's quarters. My hip hurt even more by the time I got there; if he couldn't fix me up, I'd be limping soon.

"Jasper," Amin said in pleasant surprise when he answered my knock. "Come in."

I stepped inside, glancing around at the piles of scrolls and books and the twenty-or-so candles that cast everything in a warm, flickering glow. It reminded me of Aro's office, but more organized. The stone walls were softened by hanging art and a few small tapestries.

"I need your help," I admitted sheepishly, rubbing the offending leg. "I think something got stuck in there after the dismemberments the other day."

"The perils of being welcomed," Amin chuckled, unconcerned. He prodded around my leg and hip for minute, asking if anything hurt to the touch, which it didn't. He made me move my leg in different directions, testing its strength compared to the same motions in the other leg.

"It's inside," I reminded him.

"Of course it is inside," he said. A look of wry amusement twisted at his beard. "It's probably just a piece of gravel or something. But if we can determine which muscles remain compromised, I can cut with more precision."

"Cut?"

"What did you expect? I assure you, surgery is more efficient, but it's your leg. Would you rather I just tear the whole thing off again?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. You're the doctor."

"Surgery, then. Cloak off, pants off."

I complied. Amin cleared off a long table and I climbed up, watching warily as he got out a fancy box with gleaming white instruments inside. He rummaged through his options, humming to himself, and then selected three of them. One was a narrow blade that looked much sharper than the one Felix had used.

"Lie down. Left side up, please."

The instant my ear touched the ancient wood, I felt a slicing pain as the knife bit down. I held myself tense and frozen, afraid to move and cause more damage. I'd been damaged and repaired too many times to count, but it was particularly unnerving to lie here, all vulnerable like a human in a hospital tent. I didn't recall having to go under the knife in my human days, but I did remember being more afraid of doctors than anyone else.

"So. Which rumors are true?" Amin asked, carving a little deeper. He had a second tool in his other hand, operating with gusto. Admittedly, it hurt less than the tattoo had. "I've heard that you've been dismissed, that you've risen in favor, that you're feeding on animals now, and that you fought Gustav for the last two humans.

"Just the animal one."

"Ah." A wave of pity. I winced as the knife found a sore spot—surely he'd gone deep enough now? He didn't feel surprised, just mildly curious.

"Are there many vampires who feed on animals? Other Guards?" I asked him. "I'd never heard of that even being an option before."

"Not that I'm aware of. I tried it myself many years ago out of curiosity, but it was foul." He opened his mouth and closed it again, choosing his words with care. "I do not think Aro will force you to suffer it very long. It is a gentle reprimand."

I wanted to set the record straight, but Aro had hinted—in a roundabout sort of way—that it would be better to let the others think it was a punishment. "I think I might be feeding like this for a while," I said vaguely.

"Well, Aro knows what is best," Amin said quickly. "It will be interesting to observe the changes. Ah. Here we are." He dug down once more with his tools, and suddenly a distinct scent was released. Amin stepped back in shock. "Santiago," he said with finality.

"I had a feeling."

We left it at that. Amin dug around on one of his bookshelves and produced a contraption that looked like a tiny hand-held bellows and a glass beaker. From another hiding place he brought out some rubber tubing and attached it to the glass portion. My job was to hold the beaker steady while he worked the bellows with one hand and swept the end of the tube around the wound with the other. The venom was rapidly sucked out, even from the cracks between the torn muscles. It didn't hurt nearly as much as it would if someone had sucked it out by mouth; Aro wasn't kidding about this place being a center for refinement.

Amin noticed my interest in his invention. "I once had a wound that was difficult to reach," he explained, "and I was alone at that time. The pain would not recede, and so I began to experiment."

"You were a nomad? The Volturi didn't create you?"

Amin kept pumping the bellows, trying to get every last drop of venom out. "No, I only joined the Guard recently. The Volturi sent word out in the mid-18th century that they were seeking a physician, so I presented myself and was accepted. I was changed in the 11th century in Persia. I was a student of the great Ibn Sina."

I shook my head, trying to imagine what it must be like to see the 18th century as recent. Then I closed my eyes in relief, finally noticing the absence of pain in my leg. The familiar tickling feel of healing was already at work.

"That's much better. I'm grateful."

"So am I," Amin told me with a smile, disconnecting the tube from the beaker. "It isn't often I have the chance to practice my craft." He tossed the tube into the fire, which blazed hungrily at the new addition.

"Except for dislocating people's ribs," I grumbled. He chuckled, completely at ease.

"Yes, except for that. You are learning Italian from Chelsea, correct?" I nodded. "When you are ready for Arabic, I will likely be assigned as your tutor. If you are interested, I will also instruct you in human anatomy. There is very little difference between these bodies and our former ones when it comes to muscle and bone and nerve. Your skill in combat will improve when you can carry a map in your mind."

"I'd like that."

The wound continued to heal itself. Amin nudged the torn layers together now and then, but overall it was just about letting nature take its course. A few drops of my own venom sped things up, but only marginally. I finally sat up halfway, watching the tissues inside my hip knit themselves back together with a cold, simmering rage. It took a certain amount of premeditation to purposefully hide your venom inside someone else's leg. And until now, I hadn't realized the extent of the damage. Were they always this reckless? Had Felix approved this little stunt? And could I trust Amin?

"Look," I said. "I'm new to this whole thing, so I don't know how far these little 'welcomes' tend to go. But isn't this a little much? I'm an empath and I've felt animosity from Santiago... what do you know about this?"

Amin hummed to himself, suddenly very busy with his bookshelf again. He seemed less secretive than some of the others, but it looked like I was still blundering my way into things better left untouched. "There are quarrels," he admitted. "It's the younger Guards, more often, and there are... incidents, occasionally. But this was particularly cruel."

"And you don't think it was a prank? I wondered if Felix—"

"No."

"So this was personal, then."

Amin turned around, slowly polishing the blade he still held in his hand. "If you want my advice, Jasper, you should deal with this, but do it quietly. The Three do not like to be troubled with personal quarrels. And if I am not mistaken, you will not want to draw attention to yourself in any way that isn't exemplary... just now."

He was right; I couldn't afford another strike against me, no matter who had started what. I appreciated Amin's frankness and I told him so. He examined the wound, which was continuing to heal, slowly but surely. "What was that you said about observing changes?" I asked him. "About the animal thing?"

"I cannot be sure, as I have never witnessed it," he said. "But I have heard that the blood of animals dilutes the eyes, turning them a lighter color. I do not know if there are other effects. There was a rumor that it weakens the body, but we will see."

Once the skin had closed over my wound and Amin had tested my strength in all my limbs—for comparison later on, he informed me cheerfully—I was given a clean bill of health. Back in my quarters, I drew close to the mirror and examined my eyes carefully, looking for a change. I didn't see anything, at least not yet.

This wasn't going to be as simple as I'd first thought. I was already indebted to Aro personally, and I'd be on thin ice with Caius once he got back and heard about the incident in the Dining Room. My scars and my dubious past already set me apart from my fellow Guards, and now I was apparently on my way to becoming even more of a laughingstock. I also had an enemy to settle things with. Yet despite all that, and despite the troubling burn in my throat, I still went about my duties with a spring in my step. The newness of possibility made it all worthwhile.