Chapter Thirty-Three

The Informant

Lena stood outside of Aro's chambers, staring at the two guards by his door. Different ones from last time. Perhaps the others were on break.

Perhaps they were dead.

The one on the left wasn't friendly. His eyes darted over her, ghosted over the shape of her standing before him. His chin jutted out. He lifted his head.

"Master Aro isn't accepting visitors," he told her.

Lena smiled. "Not even me?"

The guard scoffed and turned to his friend. "You hear that, Afton? New girl thinks she's something special."

"So it seems," the other, Afton, said flatly. His gaze remained trained on a spot in the distance.

The unnamed guard turned his head, and looked Lena up and down. "You aren't much of anything, girl, you know that?"

She blinked at him. "Tell Master Aro I would like to see him, please."

"People like you are disgusting," he said, baring his teeth. "You walk around thinking you're better than the rest of us, that you can order us around. You have powers, you're special. But that doesn't matter. I could still snap your neck in an instant."

Lena turned to Afton. "I need to see Aro."

Slowly, languidly, his dull eyes slid to her face. "Master Aro has retired for the evening."

"He will want to see me," she said. "This is important."

He was quiet for a moment, dull eyes firmly set upon her. "Nobody does anything for free."

"Afton, what are you-"

"What do you want?"

He pointed a thick finger at her chest.

Lena craned her neck, and looked down at the ruby pendant brushing over the skin of her chest. Alistair's gift.

She thought it would give her strength tonight, that somehow she would be able to imagine him there with her if she wore it, if she tangled her fingers in the chain and closed her eyes and tried to remember his voice.

She was realising now that it had been a mistake to wear it.

Afton snapped his fingers, and Lena looked back at his face. He raised his eyebrows at her, and held his palm out to her. "Well?"

She frowned.

"I'm risking my life going in there," he said. "I think I deserve something in return."

Lena hesitated. This man didn't deserve anything from her - she was quite sure of that - but what else had she expected? She was no longer with the Cullens. She was not living with a coven pretending to be decent humans. This was not a home, but a crypt teeming with monsters.

The Volturi did nothing for free.

But was it really such a horrible thing to do? Alistair would understand, wouldn't he? He was always talking about consequences, about the cost of her actions and her dreams. He would see that she had to do this. He would understand that he had helped her.

And there would be more, wouldn't there? They would see each other again. When this was all settled, and they were reunited, there would be thousands of opportunities to show they cared for each other. Loved each other. She wouldn't need a necklace to remind herself of that. She would have him in the flesh, kissing her palms, her knuckles, her cheeks.

Lena lifted her arms. She unclasped the necklace, and dropped it into Afton's open hand.

Wordlessly, he pocketed the piece of jewellery. Then he turned, knocked twice on Aro's door, and entered.

Lena was left standing in the hallway with the other guard. Neither spoke for a few seconds. Then, after some time, as if unable to contain his disgust a moment longer, the man spoke up.

"You're the soft kind," he spat. "All of your type are."

Slowly, she turned her head towards him. "What?"

"They hand you everything you want on a silver platter. You didn't earn your place here. You just showed up, did a little magic trick, and all of a sudden you're living here rent-free. Lazy."

Lena returned his glare.

He scoffed. "Never fought a day in your life either, I bet. A few good hits would sort you right out. Fix your little attitude problem in an instant."

She blinked. "Shut up."

A growl ripped along the hall, but the guard made no move to attack.

A shame. Lena was bored.

The door opened. Afton stepped back into the hall.

"He is waiting for you," he said.

Lena didn't thank him. She thought he should thank her. He had asked far more of her than she had of him.

She entered the room.

Aro's living quarters were as she remembered it, as if nothing had been touched in days. Not a speck of dust coated the polished furniture or stone floor. A cleaner had been in, then - human, of course, as they all were. A faint coppery smell wafted over her, and briefly Lena wondered if they ever made it back out.

Aro sat in an armchair, ankles crossed, a piece of paper in his hands. He glanced up at her, then folded the sheet of paper in half and set it on a nearby end table.

"Lena." He motioned her closer, gesturing to a dark green settee and inviting her to sit.

She crossed the room. Sat. Avoided looking him in the eye. If she were lucky, he would interpret her body language as submissive.

"Is something the matter?"

Not so lucky, then. Suddenly, Lena felt sick, like there was something churning around in her stomach, threatening to expel itself. Not food. It couldn't be food. She imagined leaning forwards, and thick congealed blood rising up her throat and splattering over the floor. Tarrish.

It was far easier to imagine this moment than to live through it.

"Lena?"

She looked up from her lap, and focused on Aro. His eyes were soft, and focused entirely on her. That such a gentle gaze could incite a war of warmth and despair within her was hardly fair.

She willed him to turn away. She didn't want him to look at her like that.

It disgusted her.

But his gaze did not waver. "What is it?"

She steeled herself. Drew a deep breath, though Aro would probably notice and think it was strange. She could explain it away. She could tell him that she was nervous. Frightened. That it was a habit, an emotional reaction she had carried over into the afterlife.

She would play the helpless little girl she was when he first met her. Weak, almost human. As close to it as she could ever be again.

"Someone is conspiring against you," she whispered.

Aro uncrossed his ankles and sat up straighter. "Who?"

The name caught in her throat, clung to her tongue, refused to leave her lips. This was a fork in the road. What she did next could change the way her future unfolded.

Only that wasn't true.

She was not standing on the edge of a precipice. No, she had already stumbled over the cliff edge. She was free falling, sailing through the hair, approaching the jagged rocks below. She went over the second she entered the room. Maybe before then. The very moment she arrived in Italy. The moment she and Aro met. The moment she was born.

None of this mattered.

She could not change the outcome. She did not have any say in what happened next. These sorts of things were decided a long time ago. Before Chelsea and Corin recruited her. Before Aro bit her. This betrayal was years in the making.

Her creator stood, and approached her. He sat beside her - too close. Leaned forwards, eyes set upon her face. Blood red.

"Who?" he repeated, softer. With delicate fingers, he brushed curls over her shoulder. Lena tried very hard not to flinch. "I can see this is eating you up, my dear. You'll feel better for telling me."

She wouldn't. She absolutely would not.

But she had no choice.

"Corin."

And, just like that, in a single breath, she had doomed the girl.

Aro froze, hand floating by her shoulder. His mask flickered, disappeared for just an instant. His gaze hardened. His eyes became two little blood-filled stones, cold and angry. And then they melted, and her own eyes were staring back at her, floating in the depths of a bloody ocean.

"Corin?"

Lena swallowed. Nodded. "Yes."

"What does she plan to do, exactly?"

She wasn't sure, The plan was never clear. To kill him, she figured. To kill all three of them.

And then what?

She was quiet. Anxiety bubbled in her gut when she glimpsed Aro's expression. A mouse, but a feral mouse. Afraid. Angry. No, he was not a mouse now. He had changed. Morphed into a sewer rate. Something vile, wanting to bite.

She drew a deep breath and noted how it shuddered. Suddenly, she was desperate to be away from him, on the other side of the room, or the castle, or the planet.

If he uncovered the truth - if she failed - would he hesitate? Would a flicker of empathy spark in his eyes before he tore her limbs from her body? Would he reduce her to her most necessary parts - her torso, her head - and keep her extremities in his cupboard, holding them over her head for centuries?

Would he question his actions?

He hadn't last time. He hadn't when he took her fingers. He had been cold and calculating, and unaffected when she cried out.

He was nowhere near this upset last time.

"You've done so well thus far, coming to me about this," Aro said. "You're a very brave girl, Lena. But I need to know more. What does she plan to do?"

He was pretending, just as she was. Manipulating. Lena was looking at herself now. Herself in the husk of another man.

"To start a rebellion," she said. "She wanted Chelsea and me to join. To help her kill-"

She pressed her lips together.

"Chelsea and Corin are friends," she said. "She didn't want to be the one to report her."

He stared at her for a moment. Then, he offered her his hand. "I hope you have not made such an accusation without sufficient proof, Lena."

There was no way out of this.

She slipped her hand into his.

Aro's eyes closed.

He sat perfectly still as he sorted through her brain. There was nothing she could do now. She could only hope that she had done enough, that her mantra would be enough for him to overlook her involvement, her discussions with the other women, her vested interest in his future. Enough to confuse him, at the very least, about which memories and thoughts were real and which ones she had fabricated.

It had to be enough.

I changed my mind. I don't want to do this.

I changed my mind.

I changed my mind.

I changed my mind.

Aro opened his eyes. "You were a participant."

Panic gripped her. She rushed to speak.

"I was weak when Corin found me," she said quickly. "I felt alone, and like it was a mistake to come here at all. She preyed on those thoughts. She tricked me."

He was silent.

Hurriedly, Lena reached forwards, and swept his hand up in hers. The rubbery scary tissue of her left hand brushed over his knuckles.

"I would never do that to you," she said, ensuring her voice cracked just a little. "You have given me so many opportunities. I was just a farmgirl. You are helping me become someone."

Slowly, his mouth pulled into a smile. He patted her hand, and pulled his own away from her grasp. "And what of Chelsea?"

"She wanted to be a good friend," she said. "But she knows what Corin planned to do was wrong."

Aro nodded. He extended his arm, and rested his hand heavily on the top of her head.

Lena tried her hardest not to let her displeasure show.

"I am very proud of you," he said. "You have matured greatly."

He stood. Walked to the cabinet on the other side of the room. Unlocked it, opened it, and then retrieved the familiar box from the top shelf. He lifted the lid and looked inside, then at Lena.

Wordlessly, he returned to his place beside her. Lena could see into the box resting in the space between them. Her fingers laid at the base of the container, on top of a white handkerchief. The Volturi's symbol was embroidered in the bottom corner of the square of cotton.

"This time, I will let you choose," he said with a smile. "Which one would you like?"

Lena looked from him to her severed fingers. Swallowed. Fought a smirk.

She picked up her middle finger.

The lid shut. Aro locked the box, then returned it to its place in the cupboard.

Meanwhile, Lena reattached her finger, flesh knitting itself back together seamlessly. She traced her fingertips over the spot where her knuckle and finger connected, where she just watched as muscle and tendons and ligaments reconnected, and her skin sealed her insides shut.

Another finger returned to her hand. Why, then, did she feel like she had just lost something?

"You did the right thing," Aro told her.

Had she?

Her eyes welled with venomous tears.

"You mustn't worry about her, Lena. This is simply the nature of our world."

"Yes, Master," she said, but she could not blink the tears from her eyes.

He smiled at her pitifully. "I'll have something nice delivered to you later. You'll be so elated, you will forget about all of this in an instant. I promise you."

Lena doubted that.

He herded her out of his quarters, instructing her to return directly to her room. But she lingered for a few short seconds outside of his door, fiddling with her cloak.

Standing in the hallway, she heard him sigh. Then, a low murmuring.

"Where does it come from?" he asked. "This hunger - where does it dwell?"