Chapter Twelve

The Attic

Dust floated through the air. Lena could see their distinct halves, the side sunlight touched separate from the darker side, and the line which spliced them in two. She could no longer imagine a life without these eyes. Her human memories were blurry, as if she were looking into someone else's life through a fogged pane of glass. It frustrated her to think about it.

The attic was dark, and yet she could see everything perfectly, as if a hundred light bulbs hung above her. It was full of old trinkets and heirlooms. Heavy fabric sheets draped over items of furniture, the feet of historic chairs and the edges of picture frames peeking out at the bottom. She wondered if they were old memories, or just expensive pieces the Cullens had found the means to acquire.

She could see Alistair, too. His black eyes glistened, reflecting the flood of light that came from the opening to the attic as she climbed up. He sat against the farthest wall, legs sprawled out, his chin in his hands. The soles of his boots were worn at the heel, and dried blood was etched into the grooves.

"Normally, when a man storms off, it is understood that he wants to be left alone."

She closed the hatch, and the light vanished from his eyes. His stare was dark and shifting, his eyes nearly all pupil. She could sense him at the surface - the ancient predator his flesh housed was restless. These were his eyes, looking her over. Primal and calculating and hungry.

"I didn't think grown men skulked."

"Do not taunt me, woman."

She smiled lightly, and crossed the room.

His hawkish eyes followed her.

"I have a name," she said, and sat cross-legged on the dirty floor beside him.

He looked at her. She felt his lingering gaze on her skin. His attention neared something unsettling. It was as if she were the only other person who existed.

"Lena." His voice pulled oddly at the name. Was it his accent, or his annoyed tone?

She caught sight of his teeth, white and glistening with venom. How many had he ruined with those teeth? Lena wanted a number. She wanted to know just what this man was capable of, just how alike they were.

She leaned closer to him. "Yes?"

"Leave."

"I'd rather not," she said, and eyed him up and down.

Shadows skewed across his face and sharpened his cheekbones, and the hard line of his tensed jaw. A muscle fluttered there when he clenched his teeth. Was he always this gruesomely handsome, or only in the dark?

His sharp stare cut through her, gaze bottomless. Was it closer to the surface now? She thought she glimpsed it staring at her, for a moment, through the glassiness of his eyes - a wild beast she couldn't wait to meet.

He cleared his throat. His eyes left her, for the first time since she entered the attic. It didn't mean he wasn't watching her. If he sensed any ill intent, he would be out of the room before she could even twitch a finger.

Paranoid. But why?

He rolled his head back, and looked up to the rafters. "I don't like people, Lena."

"Why are you always there when I look, then?"

"I don't trust you."

"Do you trust anyone?"

"No," he said. "And it is for that reason that I am not yet dead."

"Dead?"

He looked at her. "Yes, dead."

Could a vampire die? Lena had no reason to think so. As far as her testing had proven, she was invincible. She could fling herself from any highrise building and damage the pavement below far more than her body. She could step out in front of a truck on the freeway, or poison herself, or do any array of things and walk away unscathed.

Death could not touch her twice.

Alistair turned his attention back to the rising dust motes. "Fire kills vampires."

Lena didn't know that. Nobody had told her. Not her creator, and not any of the Cullens. She didn't pause to consider why it was kept a secret from her. Much more interesting was the fresh thought of vengeance.

She could avenge her family.

Aro had taken her life, and three lives of those she loved. She was horribly aware of the fact that even if she killed him, set him alight and watched him burn, the debt would not be repaid.

It would be a start, though.

"Have you killed a vampire before?"

He turned to face her again. This time, his gaze did not flicker away. "Yes."

"Was it difficult?"

"Are you planning to do away with me?" She might have thought his words were a jest, if not for his expression.

Again, he bared his teeth at her in a false smile. Deceivingly human-looking, despite the strength of his jaw, and the sharpness of his teeth. If he were to lunge at her, to bury his face in her neck and bite her, would he break her toughened skin?

She suspected so. The thought didn't unnerve her. It meant her own teeth posed just as much of a threat to him.

"No," she said, and it was the truth. "I have some unresolved business."

"I hope it isn't with anyone important," he said. "Newborns are replaceable."

"It isn't," she said, then paused. "Is that why you are so afraid of the Volturi coming? Did you try to kill one of them?"

He scoffed. "You take me for a man far stupider than I am," he said. "One of the guards, Demetri, and I have similar gifts. He chases me for sport."

"Gifts?"

"Your creator was quite useless to you," he observed. "Some vampires have abilities. For example, Alice can see the future, and Jasper can alter emotions. Demetri and I are trackers. His skill is more efficient than mine, but limited to people. He thinks that, because I can sense the location of objects also, his place with the Volturi is threatened. But Aro doesn't take second-bests. He worries himself needlessly."

She thought back to how he always seemed to know where she was, how he found her in Edward's cottage, in her own room. Certainly, he could have heard her, or sniffed her out. But he found the dice earlier tonight, down the side of the bookshelf. An inanimate object that didn't move, didn't make noise. Had he used his power then? Was it that unnoticeable that he could do it in the same room as her, without detection?

She thought she would have realised.

Then again, she hadn't suspected Jasper was altering her emotions, either. It made sense now that she thought about it. The nonsensical calm she felt when a sudden rush of violent rage swept over her, the way a tense room would settle back down in seconds. Jasper was always there in those instances. To think he could influence so many people at any given time without consent, without giving himself away…

"Could I have a gift?"

His corners of his mouth tipped up the tiniest fraction. "Not all of us are special."

Lena laughed breathlessly, and looked away.

"No," she agreed, "not all of us are."