Chapter Fourteen

Reflection

A rumble of thunder welcomed Lena's killer.

Rain pelted her skin. Her clothes, stolen from Rosalie's wardrobe, stuck to her. She squinted through the downpour and fog.

Aro stood on the other side of the clearing, wearing a haunting smile. His eyes glimmered like two garnets through the mist. A man stood either side of him, though Lena didn't recognise them from the painting in the office. Maybe they were his latest exploits, replacements for Carlisle.

The Cullens moved closer, and though every muscle in Lena's body was rigid, she trailed behind them.

She thought she would feel different. That she would feel a kind of rage she never felt before, seeing his face. This exact scene ran through her mind a thousand times before, where she would spring at him, tear him apart, find some way to set him alight and finally end it. She didn't want to be haunted by the knowledge that he was still roaming the earth, somewhere.

She looked at Jasper. He refused to acknowledge her stare.

It was him, then, keeping her violence at bay.

"It seems you were expecting me," Aro said, and pulled the hood of his cloak down.

Carlisle smiled. "Alice saw your arrival."

His eyes flitted to the short woman. "Of course."

He looked different to how Lena remembered him, tiny details she never noticed with her human eyes now blatantly obvious. His skin was pale, almost translucent. A crescent scar marred his throat, not unlike her own, though far paler than hers could ever hope to be. The white lines, whiter than his skin, peeked out from beneath his black cloak.

In a way, it was as if she were looking into a mirror.

"I heard there's been a disturbance here," he said, then gestured to the men standing either side of him. "I brought reinforcements, as Edward tells me your own coven is ill-equipped to deal with it."

Lena took a second look at the two men, and realised that one of them was not a man at all. On his left was a boy, no older than thirteen or fourteen. His brown hair was swept away from his burgundy eyes, large in a way that falsely implied innocence. He was short, only coming up to Aro's shoulder.

Weren't immortal children illegal?

The other man, on Aro's right, appeared older. He stood in a way which demanded respect - back straight, hands behind his back. The look on his face was smug, though Lena couldn't quite decide why. Was it the eyes, the mouth, or just a natural state of being? He was taller than Aro, but thin. How easy it would be to snap him in half.

Both wore dark grey cloaks, and Lena could only assume these were members of the guard.

Truthfully, she expected Aro to bring someone more intimidating. Here he stood before her, a child on his left and an ineffectual man on his right.

Which was Demetri? Was it the thirteen-year-old who made Alistair flee?

"The issue has been resolved," Carlisle said.

"Has it?" Aro smiled, and his gaze slid over to Lena.

His eyes were like pools of blood, and she shivered as his stare settled on her. When she met him as a human, she hadn't felt it as strongly, but now every part of her body was telling her to submit. It was as if every cell in her body knew this was her creator, her master, the man she was reborn to obey.

She had not met another vampire like Aro. Even Jasper with his quiet authority, or Alistair who flickered between civility and savagery, did not make her feel like this. Like she had to submit to save herself.

She pushed back against the feeling. Reminded herself that this was the man who killed her, who was responsible for her dead family. Rage. She felt it too strongly for Jasper to mask it all. Anger trickled through her veins, remnants of her fury.

She bared her teeth and hissed at Aro.

Nails dug into her wrist. It didn't hurt, but she whirled around, angered.

Rosalie glared at her.

A low growl died in Lena's throat at the look in her eyes.

"My apologies. Lena is still learning about the new world she lives in," Carlisle said.

If her display upset Aro, he didn't let it show. His face didn't shift even a fraction. His tight-lipped smile didn't budge. His eyes remained on her.

He removed his glove as he did back in Greece, and extended a shockingly pale hand.

"I don't think we've met," he said. "You may call me Aro."

All eyes turned to her. She was expected to reach out and take his hand, to smile politely and introduce herself as if she had no clue who he was. She knew him, though. She would have recognised him anywhere.

How could she forget the face of her murderer?

She looked at Carlisle. Was he really going to make her shake his hand? The gesture felt too congratulatory, as if they were celebrating his successful slaying.

He smiled at her, as he always did when she looked at him.

She forced herself to step forward. She looked him in the eye, and held out her hand.

"Lena," she said. "Don't you remember killing me?"

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