July 17, 2019

As I began writing this, I expected it to be a one shot a few thousand words long. It ended up six chapters and around 35,000 words. As I researched, I was amazed to see how drawn in I became, how anxious I was to see how it all turned out—given that, of course, I already knew how it turned out. I've enjoyed writing this more than anything else I've done, and I hope you'll enjoy reading it.

WARNING: 'Reader discretion is advised.' This fic is based in 1920 and includes racial themes prevalent at the time. They are not the focus of the fic, but they are not glossed over either. The story of Gray and Carlisle is fictional, but the events happening around them are real and told as faithfully as I could, not being a history professor. Women's suffrage grew out of the abolitionist movement. This fic contains arguments and quotes from both sides, for and against, and many of the arguments against were on racist grounds. I want to make clear that by including them in the fic, I am not condoning or promoting them in any way, shape, or form. I find them repugnant. I debated skimming over them, but I decided that to do so would be disrespectful to the memory of the people who suffered as a result of them—and continue to suffer as a result of them—and would be giving those who promoted them a free pass. We cannot ignore our history when we find it shameful. That being said, there are words that I will not use under any circumstances.

Also, considering the subject matter, this fic naturally involves politics. It is not, however, intended as a political statement. I look at it as a study of human nature. To that end, I've deliberately avoided referring to either political party by name.

I researched this fic both online and with Elaine Weiss' The Woman's Hour: The Great Fight To Win The Vote. Suffragists (Suffs) and Anti-Suffragists (Antis) and other historical figures named were real people, and for better or worse, sentiments and direct quotes attributed to them are accurate according to what I was able to find. The sources of the sentiments and quotes are documented in The Woman's Hour. Some may be shocking, but for some the only word for them is disgusting.

I've striven to be historically accurate, but I don't intend this fic to be a documentary. While arguments of both sides are included, the story is not impartial. The story is told through Gray's eyes and is influenced by her feelings and beliefs—those of a 17-year-old, privileged member of the social elite, Yankee suffragette, whose human life was cut short just as it was beginning and who is still mourning the loss of that life, her family, and friends, while also trying to adjust to her new life as a vampire without going crazy from all the voices in her head.

DISCLAIMER: No copyright infringement is intended. All publicly recognizable fictional characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. All historical figures are represented as accurately as possible.

Thank you to Raum and to o2shea for all their help!

XIX

There are a lot of characters in this story, all of whom were real people. As they come in, they're introduced with any relevant info, but below is a run down.

For the Suffs:

National American Woman Suffrage Association

Carrie Chapman Catt, president of NAWSA, hand-picked successor to Susan B. Anthony

Catherine Kenney

Marjorie Shuler

Abby Milton

Harriet Upton, president of the Ohio Woman's Suffrage Association and one of the first two women named as a vice chairman in a major national party

Anne Dudley

Charl Ormond Williams, school superintendent in Shelby County and one of the first two women named as a vice chairman in a major national party

National Women's Party

Sue Shelton White, native Tennessean and chairman of the National Women's Party.

Alice Paul, leader of the National Women's Party

Anita Pollitzer

Betty Gram

For the Antis:

Josephine Pearson, president of the Tennessee State Association Opposed to Woman Suffrage and the Southern Woman's League for the Rejection of the Susan B. Anthony Amendment

Laura Clay and Kate Gordon, both were former members of NAWSA who defected to oppose ratification because it would give black women the vote as well as white women.

Charlotte Rowe, leading Anti strategist from New York

Politicians and Prominent Tennesseans:

Governor Albert Roberts, Governor or Tennessee

James Cox, presidential candidate

Warren Harding, presidential candidate

Seth Walker, Tennessee House Speaker

Andrew Todd, Tennessee Senate Speaker

Senator Herschel Candler

Representative Harry Burn

Representative Thomas Riddick

Representative Joe Hanover

Representative Banks Turner

Newell Sanders, former U.S. senator

Will Taylor, Tennessee's junior U. S. Congressman

Kenneth McKellar, Tennessee's junior U.S. senator

Albert Williams, superintendent of public instruction and appointed by Governor Roberts to the administration's oversee ratification efforts

Edward Stahlman, editor of the Nashville Banner

XIX

"It's too easy to imagine that the enfranchisement of American women simply arrived, like some evolutionary imperative, a natural step in the gradual march of progress. Or as a gift eventually bestowed by wise men on their grateful wives, daughters, and sisters. The women asked politely, staged a few picturesque marches, hoisted a few picket signs, and without much drama, 'Votes for Women' was achieved.

That's not how it happened."

The Woman's Hour: The Great Fight to Win the Vote

Elaine F. Weiss

XIX

Hermitage Hotel, Nashville Tennessee

July 17, 1920

So many humans. . . .

Life as a young vampire was not easy. Standing in the living room of their suite, humans surrounded her. Venom pooled in Gray's mouth, and she swallowed hard. Standing beside a window covered with a thick curtain, she couldn't see them, but she could hear them. It seemed that half of the population of the United States had already descended on Nashville. The sound of their hearts beat in her ears like bass drums. This time last year, she would never have been able to control herself within a hundred yards of a human. Now, here she was, surrounded by them and in control. She was making progress, but it was still so difficult. Carlisle sat at the desk across the room and smiled at her encouragingly. He made it look so easy, being surrounded by them. He'd had centuries of practice, of course, but if she were perfectly honest, there were times she resented how at ease he was with them. She envied it.

You'll get there, he told her, as if he were the mind reader.

She returned his smile. He never doubted her, never wavered, and it gave her confidence. Twenty-one months ago, he'd done the only thing he could to save her from the influenza, and in the time since then, he'd devoted himself to her care and guidance. He'd created a cover story and new identities for them, the first of many they would assume in the future. To the world, they were brother and sister; their parents having died in the pandemic two years ago, he was now her guardian. No real brother could've devoted himself to his sister more fully. Carlisle possessed a genuinely compassionate soul. His thoughts truly mirrored his words and actions. She wouldn't disappoint him for the world.

Page 451.

Dutifully, Gray recited page 451 of Anatomy of the Human Body in Italian. It was an exercise he'd developed to help her strengthen her ability to focus her mind. Normally, it helped, at least to a degree, but her mind could focus on multiple lines of thought simultaneously. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on one thing, other threads kept running in the background. And that was only her own thoughts. There were as many human minds surrounding her as there were hearts, and every one of them was filled with thoughts they projected at her. She'd thought she'd gone mad, awakening to this new life and hearing things that no one had said.

Today, though, her best efforts were in vain. Multiple lines of thought ran through her head, but all revolved around the fact that in a few short weeks, all of the decades of sacrifice, all of the uncompromising and dogged devotion of three generations of suffragists would either come to fruition, or it wouldn't. Every American woman would either gain the right to vote, or they wouldn't.

Gray thought of Trudy and Sibby, her two closest friends. The three of them had always been inseparable, but now, to them, she was dead and buried. What must this time be like for them? What had Mississippi and Delaware been like for them? The disappointment must've been palpable. Her time was over, but for better or for worse, theirs was only just dawning. Their very validity as American citizens was being decided by men they would never meet.

Carlisle came to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She gripped it tightly.

"It has to pass, Carlisle. It has to."

"It will."

"You don't know that."

"I don't know that it will pass here and now, no. But if not now, someday."

Not if Warren Harding won the White House in November, Gray feared. He said he was in favor of women's suffrage, but she didn't trust him. Not with his promises to return to normalcy, which she knew meant a return to men, and only men, in charge while women were returned to their rightful sphere—subservient, second-class citizens. No rights, no voice.

Not that James Cox was any better. She didn't trust his proclamations of support any more than she did Harding's.

Today is not the only day that will ever dawn, Carlisle assured her.

In just the first month after Congress had passed the amendment, they had racked up eleven of the thirty-six states they needed for ratification. Gray had been too young to be among humans still and so hadn't learned it until after the fact, but Illinois had been one of the very first. She'd been elated and proud, and she had been so sure . . . It had seemed inevitable.

Now though, they were stuck at thirty-five. Eight states had rejected the amendment, and three had refused to take the question up—this year, at least, and Gray was sure it was now or never. Only North Carolina and Tennessee remained in play. At least in theory. North Carolina was a sure No. Only Tennessee stood between them and defeat.

Mississippi four months earlier had been crushing. The amendment had been soundly rejected in February, but at that time, only twenty-seven states had voted for the amendment. By the end of March, that number had grown to thirty-five. Only one more state was needed, and politicians from both parties feared that if it were to be passed somewhere else, the women they had voted against would in turn vote against them, and they persuaded the state Senate to recall the bill to reject. It had taken the lieutenant governor casting the tie-breaking vote, but the amendment had passed in the Mississippi Senate. Self-interest had prevailed where justice had not, and hope had soared. It was not to last. The legislators in the House had not been moved by party leaders, and they had voted it down for the second time. Gray had been devastated.

After that, only two states had been left as potential yes votes, Delaware and Tennessee. If Mississippi had been crushing, Delaware had been infuriating. It should've been a safe Yes. At the very least, Mississippi had taken a stand, and every legislator's vote was on record for history to judge, but the Delaware House had voted to adjourn without even taking it up, defeating the bill by default. Gray gritted her teeth. They'd had pledges of support from a safe majority of legislators . . . It was the work of the Antis, she was convinced of that. If only Mrs. Catt had not gone to Geneva! Had she only stayed in Dover, Gray was sure things would've been different. Full, nation-wide women's suffrage would've been settled law by now. She had no doubt the Antis had worked on the legislators—bribed them, threatened them, whatever dirty trick they'd needed, she had no doubt they'd have used. It had nearly driven her mad that men, whose inalienable right to vote had never been and would never be questioned, could deny that right to women without even being forced to exercise it themselves.

Now, it all came down to Tennessee. If they failed here, they failed. And nearly every one of the old Confederate states that had voted on the amendment had rejected it. Also, Gray was sure the Antis would be up to all the same tricks they had in Delaware, spreading their vicious lies and half-truths, threatening and bribing where their falsehoods failed to sway. For women who claimed to be defending feminine purity and the grace of womanhood, they could lie like cheap rugs easily enough when it suited them. To lose by one state . . . To come so close and fall short, it would be more than she could bear.

If only the governor of either Connecticut or Vermont could be worked on and made to call a special session. Either legislature would likely vote to ratify. But the governors refused. Corporate interests did not want suffrage, and they held too much influence.

Still, Tennessee had passed a limited suffrage bill last year, so all might not be lost. There remained a sliver of hope.

The light outside the window dimmed, and Gray peeked outside. The sun was her jailer now. If it shone, she was trapped inside and out of sight. It had dipped behind a cloud, but the cover was too sparse. They could not go out.

Letting the curtain fall shut, she covered her eyes and held her breath. This new hearing of hers extended for three miles, from what Carlisle and she had been able to determine. They didn't know whether the number of humans impacted that. In a city like Nashville, there were thousands of humans packed into three miles, and every one of their mental voices swarmed inside her head like angry bees. They overlapped each other and blended together indistinguishably. She could catch words or phrases in one voice before it mixed back in with all the others, but full sentences were incredibly difficult to follow. Identifying one voice from all the others seemed impossible. Except for Carlisle. His thoughts she could hear as clearly as if he spoke out loud no matter where they were or how many humans were nearby, whether she tried to or not. With Carlisle, the effort was to not hear. She worked to give him as much privacy as she could. He didn't mind. To him, it was simply a matter of fact. She was the one who minded. She felt like a peeping Tom, especially when he thought of her, the young woman with the broken leg. Gray didn't know who she was, a name never accompanied the memories that so often filled Carlisle's mind, and she would never ask.

She had no more interest in listening to the thoughts of the humans around her than she did Carlisle's, but she had a gift, and she understood the value of that gift to their safety. They had to be careful, Carlisle and she, choosing to live amongst humans as they did. Secrecy was paramount, and her gift could save their lives, if she could learn to control it. As a vampire, her senses were heightened exponentially. Even after all this time, it could still be incredibly disorienting. She could be distracted by dust particles floating through a ray of light or the sound of a mouse crawling through the walls of a building across the street. Gray closed her eyes and held her breath. She hoped that by limiting what senses she could, she would have more luck in mastering this new one. She'd been around humans before, but this would be the longest period of time amongst the same group of humans. She hoped familiarity might help.

The newspapers had all reported that Mrs. Carrie Chapman Catt, president of the National American Woman Suffrage Association—hand-picked successor to Susan B. Anthony—was coming to Nashville. If there was anyone who could take on those Antis and move Tennessee into the Yes column, Gray believed it was Mrs. Catt. She would arrive in just a few hours and had a suite reserved in the same hotel as Carlisle and she. Now, Gray concentrated on her name and tried to listen for it.

It took time and effort to straighten out the tangle inside her head, but as the sky grew dimmer and the time of Mrs. Catt's train's arrival approached, Gray heard what she'd been listening for. Two voices, both female. Suffs, definitely. NAWSA Suffs, not Women's Party. Awaiting Mrs. Catt's train. One local, one not, she felt by the tenor of their thoughts. Even a person's thoughts had a regional accent. That was all Gray could catch before the two women's mental voices slipped back into the torrent with the rest of them.

She hadn't heard very much, but what she did catch matched what she'd heard in conversations around them. The different groups of Suffs were at each other's throats. Not just the long standing, deep animosity between the Alice Paul's Women's Party and Mrs. Catt's NAWSA, the Tennessee Suffs themselves were divided by petty regional rivalries and grudges. And politics. The governor was up for re-election and was facing a primary challenger. Suffs who opposed the governor refused to work with those who supported him. They were fools. Secure the vote first, then argue over whom one supported. Without the former, the later was irrelevant. A favorite argument of men opposed to women's suffrage was that women were too emotional to be entrusted with the vote. If the Suffs couldn't get over themselves and remember they were on the same side, they would prove the argument for those making it.

Two other women were arriving in Nashville that evening. Sue White from the Women's Party, and Josephine Pearson, president of the Tennessee State Association Opposed to Woman Suffrage and head of the state division of the Southern Women's League for the Rejection of the Susan B. Anthony Amendment.

Sue White was a hero in Gray's eyes. She'd been jailed for the Cause and hunger struck while imprisoned. Gray felt awed at her bravery, and that of the other women like her. She herself had protested and picketed—even been brought home by the police once—but she'd never have been brave enough to face arrest and imprisonment. Josephine Pearson was worse than just the enemy, she was a hypocrite. She was a highly educated woman—she had a master's degree—opposed to women's suffrage. It was a contradictory combination that was incomprehensible to Gray.

Both sides—for ratification and against—had chosen the Hermitage Hotel as their base camp, and Gray would have a front row seat to witness it.

XIX

Impatient as she awaited the arrival of the soldiers in this upcoming battle, Gray slipped down to the lobby, a perfect yellow rosebud pinned to her all white dress.

Mrs. Catt, a 61-year-old veteran in the battle for suffrage, arrived at the Hermitage looking tired, Gray observed. But having recently returned from presiding over the International Woman Suffrage Alliance in Switzerland, that was hardly surprising. And to add to that, for the past year she'd been traveling back and fourth across the country working to secure ratification of the Susan B. Anthony Amendment. Gray gazed at her from across the expansive lobby in deep admiration. She was relentless for the Cause, whereas Gray was useless. How she wished she could do her part too.

Feeling melancholy, as if a shadow passed not just over her but through her, she touched the brooch she wore—her mother's favorite. There was nothing in the world she wouldn't give for her mother and father to be standing beside her again. To see them again, even just for a day . . . Even for just an hour . . . The ache she felt anytime she thought about them was almost unbearable. She would bear that ache, though, sooner than let herself ever forget them, and so she recalled them to her mind frequently. She wore her mother's favorite jewelry and her favorite perfume, and she read books her father had had in his library and listened to his favorite composers to keep them with her. Her parents had been her world, but now they were gone and here she was, trying to make her way in this overwhelming new world of hers.

The young woman with the broken leg was on Carlisle's mind again. He wondered how she felt about women securing the right to vote. She was still alive, then. Gray hadn't been sure. She looked to be about Gray's own age, but she wore the clothes of a decade ago—the silhouette and hemline of her dress were unquestionably pre-war. She was lovely, truly beautiful, and Carlisle was clearly in love with her, whoever she was.

Thoughts of the beautiful young woman always left Carlisle feeling very low. Gray waited a few minutes longer in the lobby, watching the humans pass by, instinctively steering clear of her while going about their business, before returning to their suite. She would suggest they hunt that night. Carlisle was like all men—his mood typically improved after a meal.

XIX

A full scale battle royal was brewing in the sweltering July heat, and the battle lines were drawn deep. Reinforcements for both sides continued to descend upon Nashville. Day by day, Gray took it all in.

The other side had money, a seemingly inexhaustible supply of it. Major industry leaders—the railroads, factory owners, liquor producers—were vehemently opposed to women's suffrage and threw huge amounts of money against it. And money moved men far more than any pursuit of justice, Gray feared.

She stood in their suite, staring out the window at the Capitol building, twisting her fingers together and tearing the gloves she wore to shreds. Polls were being continually conducted by both sides, but from what Gray had been able to decipher of human minds so far, she knew that what one said was often not what one thought. Pledges were sought from legislators and alliances formed with powerful men, but Gray feared the Suffs placed far too much faith in them, Governor Roberts in particular. He was no true friend of Women's Suffrage, she feared. He'd agreed to call the special session only because President Wilson—a Tennessean wanting his state and his party to claim the credit for the amendment's passage—cajoled him into it. But that had been a month ago, and he had yet to set a date.

Promises meant nothing. Hadn't Delaware taught them that? That was why the rival forces needed to work together. NAWSA's tact, united arm in arm with the Women's Party's force. As they say—talk softly, but carry a big stick.

"I've been considering Wisconsin." Carlisle said.

Gray let the curtain fall shut. She knew that, of course, but this was the first time he'd brought it up. He wanted them to settle down somewhere. They'd been moving from place to place since she'd awoken to this life, and the majority of that time had been spent far from humans. It was only the past several months she'd been strong enough to be amongst them.

"What do you think?" he asked her.

For the rest of their kind nomadic lives were the norm, but not for Carlisle. Not for her either, she didn't think. He wanted to practice medicine again. Could she do it, though? It would mean leaving who she'd been behind forever. They'd registered at the hotel under the name of Lincoln, taken from the Chicago neighborhood where she'd lived with her parents, but this would mean resigning her father's name once and for all. She didn't know if she was ready for that yet.

"Isn't that too near?" The Wisconsin boarder was not very far from Chicago.

"I'm thinking Northern Wisconsin, along the coastline."

"Oh."

"There's no rush."

No rush. It was nearly two years since he'd taken her from parents' home and saved her life. Two years could hardly be called a rush.

"If you think it best," she said.

He looked at her for a long moment, then scoffed jokingly.

If I think it best? What kind of answer is that for a suffragist?

XIX

Another tree crashed to the ground. Twenty acres of forest lay in ruins.

Men and their ego, their rivalries, their perfect inability to see beyond the end of their own noses—

Gray didn't need to hunt as frequently as she had a year ago, but she still needed to feed more often than Carlisle. There were woods enough close to Nashville that they could leave after sundown and return before sunup, but that night they'd run all the way to the the Smokey Mountains. It would be better for one particular newspaper owner that she stayed away until she was sure she could be within a mile of him and not—

Another tree.

She screamed, lifting it over her head and hurling it fifty yards away. Her chest and shoulders heaved in white hot fury. She could level the entire forest. This—this was an example of the sort of honorable, chivalrous man who women were supposed to entrust with their wellbeing!

Gray had known the Suffs had been wrong to put so much trust in men's words!

The Kiwanis Club of Nashville had called a special meeting on Friday, and Mrs. Catt had been the guest speaker. Carlisle and she had sneaked into the basement before dawn and waited. It had been Mrs. Catt's first public speaking event in the city, and Gray hadn't wanted to miss a word of it.

She'd been brilliant.

"We have just emerged from the greatest war ever known, which was fought for liberty and democracy," she'd said. But where was democracy for American women? In more than twenty countries, women were voting. It was a matter of national pride, she'd told them. All across the country—all across the world—all eyes were on Tennessee.

The room applauded loudly, and Gray had been spellbound.

After the meeting, Edward Stahlman, owner of one of the two newspapers in Tennessee, the Nashville Banner, had introduced himself and pledged his support. He supported Governor Roberts in the upcoming primary, and he used his paper's editorial pages to promote the governor's re-election campaign.

Another tree.

Two days later, the Banner had published a scathing letter written by a leading Anti, attacking Mrs. Catt, in its front section.

Its owner clearly had a different definition of the word support than Gray did. She seriously doubted he'd make a promise to Alice Paul and then brake it two days later. She'd burn his precious paper down around him.

Papa would never have broken his word.

Gray lay her hands on another tree, ready to send it crashing to the ground, but a new voice entered her head, and she froze, her head snapping toward the newcomer. Carlisle was at her side in an instant.

"Someone's coming," she said, anxious. She hadn't meet any other vampires yet. She heard nothing alarming in the newcomer's thoughts, but she was not in a trusting mood.

Carlisle's were the only other thoughts she could hear, which made separating the newcomer's easier. He was not like them. He was a human-feeder.

More important, he was an unknown. He was a potential threat.

She cursed herself. She'd led him to them.

"He heard all the noise."

"Alright," Carlisle said.

Not alright. Gray hissed, and she bared her teeth.

Do you hear something threatening? Carlisle asked her.

She shook her head. Not yet, at least, but she was fully on her guard.

One, or more?

She shook her head a second time.

One. Male?

She nodded.

The newcomer crossed their scents and started to run toward them. He'd recognized Carlisle's.

"He knows you," she said, her posture relaxing but her mind still uneasy. Carlisle had many friends among their kind, he'd told her, and the newcomer was glad to come across him.

He was still an unknown to her, though, and her instinct to defend herself was hard to resist. Trust did not come naturally to them.

Or, not to her at any rate. Carlisle grinned widely. He patted her shoulder and moved in the direction of the newcomer, also glad to encounter a friend. She followed close at his side. She didn't like this. She felt restless and uncomfortable, her fingers twitching and venom flowing into her mouth.

The breeze carried the newcomer's scent to them, and Gray learned his name as memories flooded Carlisle's thoughts.

"You'll like him," Carlisle assured her before calling his name out loudly. "Garrett!"

Gray didn't respond. She scanned the dense, dark trees, searching for her first sight of the newcomer.

When it came, she saw a very tall man with shaggy, shoulder length dark hair. His jaw was covered with stubble, and his wide grin reached his bright, ruby red eyes. She ignored the superficial, her focus riveted on his height and the teeth gleaming white in the moonlight.

Carlisle greeted him warmly and held his arm out to her, calling her forward. "Come and meet an old friend," he said.

Garrett's eyes flitted between them, and his grin widened.

Carlisle has found a mate.

"No," she said firmly, her eyes narrowing.

Carlisle looked at her questioningly.

"He assumes wrongly."

Garrett's eyebrow arched, and his eyes rested on Carlisle.

"Gray can read minds," Carlisle said matter-of-factly.

Both of Garrett's eyebrows shot up, and his thoughts instantly scrambled.

"Nice try, but not nearly enough," she said, taking a step forward. It wasn't entirely true. She was able to unscramble them, but not without difficulty. Had anyone else been within three miles, she doubted she'd have been able to straighten them out.

He eyed her for a moment, glancing again at Carlisle.

"We are not lovers," she stated.

Shocked, Carlisle coughed.

Garrett laughed to mask his discomfort. "Useful talent you've got there," he said. He was leery of her, but he trusted Carlisle enough to extend that trust to her, albeit cautiously.

"Garrett and I met at the Battle of Yorktown," Carlisle said.

Slowly, Gray nodded. She had no idea what the Battle of Yorktown was, but she wasn't about to let that on in front of the newcomer. The history she'd studied as a human had been lost in her transformation. She'd fought to keep what mattered most, and history hadn't been it.

1781, Carlisle told her. The American Revolution.

The newcomer was curious about her, how they'd met.

"I was dying. Carlisle changed me."

Carlisle smiled at her warmly, proud of her. There was nothing aggressive in the newcomer's thoughts or actions. His thoughts only showed a genuine fondness for Carlisle. She tried to not feel so suspicious of him, but she couldn't help it.

"You're not residing down here, surely?" he asked. "With a newborn?"

Gray stuck her chin out at the newcomer's assumption she was still a newborn, until she saw images in his mind of a small group black clad figures slaughtering large numbers of vampires. The condemned screamed and writhed, no one yet touching them, as two of the figures in black leisurely walked among them, killing them one by one. They didn't fight back. They didn't even attempt to run. They just waited, convulsing in agony, until it was their turn. A shiver ran through her. The ones in black, they were the Volturi. Carlisle had warned her about them, and their gifts. What crime had all of those vampires committed? And what did it have to do with the area that led the newcomer to question Carlisle's being there with her?

"We're only here for a few weeks," Carlisle said. "The humans are considering the passage of legislation regarding women's enfranchisement. It's very important to Gray to see the result."

Gray was surprised to see the newcomer well informed on the details.

"You follow human goings on?" she asked skeptically.

"Haven't missed an American battle yet. Didn't want to miss this one."

"Do you expect bloodshed?"

"A fight is a fight. I fought against oppression once. I came to see it fought against again."

She hummed. His thoughts showed him to be sincere, although he was motivated solely by an innate approval of an underdog standing up against an oppressor. What the fight was over was irrelevant. One fight really was as good as any other. She bristled, both at his dismissive attitude toward the Cause and at the Suffs being labeled underdogs.

The newcomer and Carlisle caught up since the last time they'd seen each other decades ago. He lamented over a story about almost biting Custer that Carlisle had clearly heard before. She should probably know who Custer was, but she had no idea. She would have to do some reading, clearly.

If the newcomer thought the acres upon acres of leveled forest odd, she didn't hear it.

Never since waking up to this life had Gray had to share Carlisle's attention. She felt jealous. He enjoyed her company, but they had no history together, not like he shared with the newcomer. It surprised her, the strength of her possessiveness.

The scent of a mountain lion drifted to them, and Gray's attention was drawn to it. The newcomer thought their diet bizarre. He couldn't understand it, or how they could surround themselves with humans, live among them. He thought it bizarre, but he'd never given Carlisle any of the flack others did. She knew he'd had to defend his choice to feed only from animals, and that she would have to as well.

"Go on," Carlisle said.

She startled. Go—alone? She'd never hunted alone before. She'd never gone anywhere without Carlisle before.

She'd never gone anywhere alone, ever.

For the past two years, she'd never been far from Carlisle's side, and before that—during her human life—the idea of her going anywhere alone would've been unthinkable. If she wasn't with her parents or their friends, she was accompanied by a maid.

The animal's scent grew stronger. It was unknowingly stalking closer to them, and she wanted to feed.

Carlisle was absorbed in his old friend, glad they'd come across each other. For the first time since she'd first heard his thoughts even before she'd opened her eyes to this life, she was no where in them. She bit the inside of her lip. She was torn—stay with Carlisle, or hunt.

The newcomer glanced at her. He wondered what she was waiting for, whether she might not be as devoted to their diet as Carlisle was. Was it fair for Carlisle to impose it on her? he asked himself.

Defiant, she met his eyes. She squared her shoulders and stuck out her chin before turning and taking off in the direction of her prey.

The very moment she started to run, even before her foot hit the ground, instinct took over. Every one of her heightened senses fixed on her prey. She leapt through the air, catlike, and scaled a tall poplar. She moved through the canopy in perfect silence, the steady beating of the animal's heart calling to her like a siren, the warm, rich scent of its blood flooding her mouth with venom.

Without warning, the breeze changed direction, carrying her scent toward the animal, and in an instant, it tore off through the woods. She grinned. The chase was on. There was no holding back. Stealth was abandoned for pure speed. When she ran full out, she felt more alive than she could ever remember feeling as a human. She leapt through the air and let out a loud whoop of pure joy.

Predator suddenly turned prey, the cat ran with all its strength, but its speed was nothing compared to hers. She was behind it in no time. Its tawny fur gleamed in the moonlight as she pounced. The cat growled, but before it could make any attempt to defend itself, its neck was broken. If Gray thought of a certain newspaper owner as she slammed the animal to the ground and sunk her teeth into it, no one need ever know.

She drained the cat quickly, savoring its warmth as it seeped through her. She wanted more, and she stayed motionless, listening. Leaves rustled, and small nocturnal creatures scurried for food. In the distance, an owl hooted. Slowly, she rose. She inhaled deeply, but she could neither hear nor smell any prey. She grinned. No worry, it was out there somewhere. She'd find it.

In a flash, she took off racing eastward.

Well-born young ladies didn't run, she'd been told all her life. Well, look at her now. She ran faster than she ever had, as much just for the sheer joy of it as to find prey. She laughed as she flew through the trees, running without direction or care. The speed—There could be no greater thrill than this. It was exhilarating.

She passed herds of deer hidden in the trees, but she ignored them. She wanted a predator, and she wasn't settling.

There!

In an instant, she changed course, running more northward. A black bear, already on the run from her. The breeze had carried her scent toward him before she'd caught his, but she caught up quickly. Its speed less the mountain lion's, it gave her no chase, but at twice the weight, it was more sport to take down.

Her thirst sated after the bear, she wondered where she was. She could've run all the way to North Carolina for all she knew. She heard the sound of the running water in the distance, and she followed it to wash the remains of her meal away. She never managed to stay as clean as Carlisle.

The river was wide enough to split the trees and expose the clear, starry sky above. It was a range of the darkest navy blues and purples, too dark for human eyes to appreciate. There were so many stars, and there, running through all of it was a band of glowing white, the Milky Way. Gray stood, transfixed by the beauty of it.

In that moment, apart from the forest and the running water, the world around her was quiet and peaceful. It was nice. The human world was filled with so much noise, so much ruckus, that to be surrounded by peace and quiet was lovely.

But the quiet wasn't just around her, it was inside her as well. Inside her head. The voices were gone, even Carlisle's. Gray closed her eyes. For the first time in nearly two years, the only thoughts inside her head were her own, and oh, the relief. It was bliss. Standing there in the light of the moon and the stars, she was alone for the first time in her life, and to her surprise she was finding she relished it. All her life, she'd been ruled by expectations—whether she'd comported to them or not. First her family's and then Carlisle's. What were her own expectations for herself? She had decisions to make.

Hours passed as she stood there, and clouds moved in, obscuring the stars. Even in the middle of the night, the July heat persisted. The air was heavy and humid, and she could smell the rain expected the next day. As the horizon began to brighten behind the increasing cloud cover, Carlisle's voice entered her head, followed a moment later by Garrett's.

I was beginning to think you'd run all the way to the Atlantic Ocean, Carlisle said when they reached her. Glad as he was to see his friend, he was more so to see her. He and Garret were friends, but he and she were a family. You looked serene, standing there. You enjoyed your run?

"I did."

Garrett wondered what question she'd answered.

She'd enjoyed her run and her time alone, and as she'd stood there, she decided something.

Both sides in the suffrage argument—the Suffs and the Antis—had their supporters running all across the state in a mad race to secure votes. Gray didn't want to wait it out, sitting on her hands in Nashville, waiting for news to trickle in. She wished she could participate, but she knew that was out of the question. Reporters were behind every corner armed with more than just notepads; there were cameras everywhere one turned. Someone who was believed to have died in Chicago in 1918 could not be photographed in Nashville in 1920. It would be catastrophic. But that didn't mean she couldn't be out there, where the fight was going on. She could hide in a hotel room in one city as well as in another.

"I don't want to go back to Nashville, not yet," she said. "I want to be out there, where it's all happening." They'd headed eastward when they'd left Nashville, but she didn't know where they were exactly. It didn't particularly matter. Pick any large city in the state, and it would be inundated by both sides by then.

End notes:

The first eleven states to ratify the 19th amendment were:

Illinois, Wisconsin, and Michigan 6/10/1919

Kansas, New York, and Ohio 6/16

Pennsylvania 6/24

Massachusetts 6/25

Texas 6/28

Iowa 7/2

Missouri 7/3