August 22

"You're late."

Diana paused just outside the door to the airport, glancing around. Her first thought was that the speaker was addressing someone else, but no other travelers were nearby. And then a slight figure stepped out of the shadow of a pillar, and while Diana couldn't recall seeing him before there was no mistaking what he was. Pale and angelic-looking, the vampire couldn't have been much older than 13. A small, teasing smile played on his lips. At his shoulder followed a much taller figure, lean, with striking features and dark hair that fell to his shoulders. Both regarded her expectantly.

She had never been collected at the airport before, and there had been no messages from the secretary notifying her that anyone would be doing so today when she checked her email just minutes ago. That, combined with the comment on her tardiness, put her on edge.

"My flight was delayed," Diana said, in the matter-of-fact, slightly puzzled tone of someone repeating information they'd already communicated. The boy's eyebrows lifted, politely skeptical, and Diana frowned. "I sent messages to the secretary. Two of them."

The boy frowned himself, then shot a questioning glance at the other vampire, who shook his head. Diana fished her phone from her pocket and pulled up her sent emails, then held the screen out so both of them could see. "Here, look."

The boy's eyes flicked over the screen, then he hummed thoughtfully. "Aro will be glad. He was very disappointed when he thought you'd changed your mind."

He seemed genuinely pleased that he would be able to deliver good news. The taller vampire, too, had relaxed somewhat upon seeing the emails, though he still looked somewhat troubled. With a glance at Diana's anxious face he quickly smoothed the expression away, offering her a smile that would have been reassuring if she weren't still so unsettled by the sight of vampire teeth.

"Come." His voice was warm, like he was making a conscious effort to be charming to make up for the intimidating welcome. "We will drive you back to Volterra. Aro will be eager to see you."

What followed was a long, rather awkward car ride. No one spoke, and when they arrived in an underground garage her escorts led her not to Aro's study but to the large stone chamber she'd been brought to on her first visit. Diana couldn't help but feel that this was a bad sign.

"How wonderful, Alec has returned," Aro crooned when the doors opened, rising from an ornate wooden throne. The room was empty but for him and Caius, who remained seated, his eyes fixed hungrily on Diana. The boy, apparently called Alec, smiled brightly at Aro's greeting. "And Demetri—I see you've found our errant Diana."

"Yes, Master." Alec eagerly stepped forward and offered his hand to Aro, who took it with a fond smile. After a brief pause, Aro said softly, "I see." He let go of Alec's hand and sighed. "How unfortunate. It appears there's been a miscommunication."

"A miscommunication?" Caius repeated sourly, tearing his eyes away from Diana to scowl at Aro.

"Alec, dear one, if you would be so kind as to fetch Angelica." Alec nodded and disappeared. Aro turned and extended his hand expectantly. "Diana?"

Diana forced herself to step forward, despite the self-preservation instincts which screamed at her not to put herself any closer to Caius. Aro took her hand eagerly, paused for a beat, then smiled, looking genuinely pleased.

"Ah. Molto bene." He pressed a light kiss to Diana's knuckles, then dropped her hand and floated back to his throne as he addressed Caius. "Yes, brother, a miscommunication. Our dear Diana's travel was merely delayed due to weather. As she informed sweet Angelica, twice." As Aro sat, he said lightly, "How peculiar, that we received neither message."

The doors to the room opened again, and there was the clicking of high heels on stone as Angelica entered, followed closely by Alec. The woman looked pale and nervous, and, to Diana's confusion, blanched at the sight of her.

"Ahhh, Angelica," Aro sighed. He beckoned her forward with one hand, a clear invitation for her to approach.

Angelica froze on the spot, then began talking very quickly. Diana, now somewhat out of practice with Italian, couldn't make out much more than an apology and the high, frantic tone in which she spoke. She cut herself off abruptly when Aro raised a hand.

"If that's true, my dear, you have but to show me," he said sweetly. He held out his hand, expectant. Angelica, looking resigned, approached him, her heels echoing in the stone room. She placed her hand in his. Aro's smile faded. In the most terse voice Diana had ever heard from him, he said, "I see."

"More incompetence?" Caius sounded both disgusted and disappointed.

"Alas, dear brother." Aro released Angelica's hand. The woman backed away on shaky legs. "Betrayal."

That got Caius's attention. "What?"

"It appears sweet Angelica has become rather jealous of the attention our dear Diana has received these last few weeks," Aro explained, disappointment clearly evident on his face. "She had hoped that forgetting to pass along these messages would see her killed."

Diana, who had until that moment been feeling rather sorry for Angelica, froze. Angelica did not look at her—she only had eyes for the Volturi, her knees trembling.

Caius snarled, rising from his throne. "You dare?"

Angelica babbled something in Italian. Caius's face darkened. Suddenly he was across the room, Angelica's desperate pleas choked off as he held her in the air by her throat.

"Demetri," Aro said evenly. "If you would be so kind as to escort Diana to my study." A cool hand gripped Diana's elbow and began to steer her away.

"Let her stay, Aro," Caius said sharply, teeth bared in a cruel smile. "Let her witness what happens to those who betray the Volturi."

Demetri paused, hesitating under the conflicting orders. Caius did not wait for Aro to overrule him. He yanked Angelica forward, her body falling flush against his in what might have passed, just for a second, for a lover's embrace. But then Caius buried his teeth in her neck. Angelica shrieked and struggled, and despite Caius's gulping some of her blood spilled down, began to wind its way toward the drain in the floor—

Diana lost sight of it as Demetri tugged her away, but the image didn't leave her head, even as she was guided out of the room and down familiar halls to Aro's study. There, she sank into her usual chair and buried her head in her hands.

She didn't know how to feel. Angelica's tortured scream and the vicious glee in Caius's eyes as he bit into her neck kept replaying over and over in her head. But then she remembered that, evidently, Angelica had been hoping that the very same thing would happen to her. She'd withheld the change in Diana's travel plans on purpose, hoping the Volturi would believe she'd reneged on her deal—hoping they would kill her.

She supposed she couldn't really be surprised. Her interactions with Angelica had been minimal, largely confined to travel arrangements, but it was clear that the woman had known very well who and what she worked for. She watched as groups of tourists trotted past her, never to be seen again. It wasn't that much of a surprise that a woman like that would do something like this to eliminate someone she viewed as competition.

Still. It didn't make the sight of her violent murder any easier to handle. Diana had seen the aftermath before, had seen the piles of corpses, but until now she'd never witnessed the act itself. Now she knew what it must have looked like at the end of Mac's life—what it would look like at the end of hers.

Behind her, the door clicked quietly open. Diana did not look up.

"I am sorry you had to see that, my dear," said Aro, gently.

She did look up at that, taking in the concern and regret in his expression. Genuine, as far as she could tell.

"I don't see why." Her voice sounded thick, though she hadn't cried. "It's what happened to my sister. It's what'll happen to me, at the end of the year."

Aro tsked. "There is no need for such a thing to happen to you at all."

"Of course," Diana said bitterly. "There's the other option, where I do the same thing to other people, over and over again for eternity. No, thank you. May I go?" He had, after all, already touched her hand. There was no reason for her to stay longer.

Aro hovered in the doorway, deliberating. Slowly, he said, "That is not the only option."

Diana frowned at him, because he'd been very clear that her only options were death and vampirism. At her expression, he elaborated.

"There are some immortals who choose to feed on the blood of animals. It is unpleasant, and they must feed more frequently, but it is possible." His tone was carefully neutral, though it was clear from the expression on his face that he found such a choice both baffling and distasteful. "My friend Carlisle, from the painting—that is the reason for the unusual color of his eyes."

It was an interesting piece of information. Aro had clearly presented this more ethical option as an enticement, to persuade her to become one of them. He would be disappointed. If anything, this new information only firmed her resolve. If it was possible for vampires to feed on animals, then the Volturi's systematic murder of her sister and thousands of others was even more horrible than she'd thought.

She furrowed her brow. "Why are you trying so hard to convince me about this?"

"Because killing you seems such a waste," Aro sighed, drifting forward to stand before her. He tilted his head ever so slightly, regarding her with an expression that was almost wistful. "I have mentioned before that there is a certain charisma to you that I am almost certain would become a formidable talent." A pause. Then he added, "And, I admit, there is something about you which almost reminds me of Carlisle."

There was a deep fondness in his tone which indicated this was a compliment. There was also an undertone of longing that Diana didn't care to read too much into.

"Our shared distaste for murder?"

Aro smiled. Diana briefly wondered at the fact that the only time she'd managed to offend him so far was when she'd accused him of a lack of curiosity.

"Your tenacity." His smile widened as he went on, "Now that I think of it, I'd quite like to introduce you. He visits us here once a year, for a few days—I will ensure his next visit coincides with one of yours."

There was something in the way he said it that had Diana narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "Are his visits like mine?" By which she meant, Are his visits mandatory?

"They are similar," he allowed. "A story for another time. You are tired. I'll let you rest."


September 4

Two weeks later found Diana in the unusual position of being impatient to speak with Aro. She scarcely waited for his call of welcome to enter his study.

"Can I talk to you before—" She waggled her hand to indicate tactile telepathy. Aro tilted his head, a small, curious smile on his face, and she explained quickly, "I want to have a proper discussion about something and it'll feel less satisfying if you just read it all out of my head."

"A discussion," he repeated, clasping his hands together with apparent eagerness. "About what?"

"The origin of vampires."

She'd been thinking about little else for the last week, and had been frustrated to have no one to bounce her ideas off of.

After what had happened to Angelica during her last visit, she'd left Volterra in a bleak mood. The overcast weather when she arrived in England hadn't helped much. She'd done her best to distract herself by playing tourist, with only moderate success. On her second-to-last night in London she'd been bemused to find an envelope waiting for her under her hotel room door, which contained a single ticket to a performance of Much Ado About Nothing and a handwritten note on creamy, thick cardstock that read: You are under no obligation to attend, but it would be a shame to leave London without a visit to the theatre. There was no signature, but then, there was hardly a need. She enjoyed the performance more than she expected to.

From London she'd traveled to Dublin, where she was reminded that the city had been the home of Bram Stoker, author of Dracula. Her decision to tour Bram Stoker's 'Castle Dracula Experience' was a whim driven by morbid curiosity, and as she sat through mildly hokey performances she found herself pondering Aro's words that humankind's flawed understanding of vampires was 'quite by design'.

She picked up a copy of the book the next day, along with a handful of others on vampire lore that had been grouped nearby in the bookshop. The more she read, the more the mystery of the first vampire and Aro's lack of knowledge on the subject bothered her. And now, after hours spent considering the subject, she'd come up with an admittedly bizarre potential explanation.

"I have a theory—though it's completely untestable, of course. Or it is now, anyway. Maybe with future technology—" She shook her head, cutting herself off before she could jump too far ahead.

Aro's smile was beginning to look a bit indulgent. He gestured, a silent invitation to sit instead of rambling in the doorway. She did so, watching as Aro floated elegantly to his own armchair and prompted lightly, "You have a theory."

Diana leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "Are you familiar with the theory of panspermia?"

Another small tilt of the head from Aro. "I assume you are referring to the more modern interpretation, suggesting that the building blocks of life on earth may come from other planets."

"Yes, exactly," she said eagerly, pleased that he was familiar with the concept. She leaned forward again, speaking quickly. "Vampires don't make sense, evolutionarily speaking. You don't reproduce in the traditional way, your lifespan is so long—there would be evidence in the fossil record, surely, if you came from somewhere. There would be relatives, evolutionary cousins which share some traits, but there aren't. There's nothing."

Aro hummed encouragingly. "Go on."

She drew breath to do so, then hesitated. "Do you absorb people's lived experience in detail? If I've read a book, have you also read that book, and retained it?"

"That is a more complicated question than you realize," said Aro, apparently unbothered by the abrupt change in topic. "I take it you have a particular title in mind?"

"The Invasion of the Body Snatchers."

His eyebrows rose. Amused, he said, "You think us invaders from outer space?"

"Not you specifically, no—but the originator of the strain? Maybe." Picking up speed again, she said, "The theory of evolution that works for every other life form on earth doesn't explain vampires. But a life form from somewhere else? Something alien, part virus, part parasite, which adapts to new environments by infecting and transforming the dominant species to become a new type of predator?"

"Intriguing." He had straightened in a way that made Diana think that he wasn't merely humoring her. "Completely untestable with present technology, you said."

"No fossil record," Diana explained, enthusiasm waning at this reminder. "No vampires old enough to remember."

Aro hummed thoughtfully. Then, with a too-perfect smile, informed her, "You may be interested to know that vampires possess 25 chromosomes, compared to the human 23."

"Really?" DNA differences hadn't even occurred to her, although now that he said it, that did seem like a very obvious point of investigation. "Has any sequencing been done?"

"No. But still, a possible point in favor of your theory." Her explanation evidently done, he extended a long, elegant hand in invitation. "May I?" Diana stretched just enough to allow their fingers to brush. Aro's eyes closed briefly before he withdrew. "Fascinating."

"What do you think?"

"The idea is intriguing," Aro conceded. "And certainly more well-grounded than theories of gods, angels, or curses."

"Angels?" Diana repeated skeptically. Gods and curses seemed reasonable explanations for times past, but Diana had a hard time seeing how angels could explain the origin of vampires.

"Oh, yes," Aro agreed seriously. "You know, of course, the story of Lucifer, the fallen angel." Diana nodded. "Fairest of all angels, he rebelled against the Christian God and was cast out of heaven. And, in his bitterness, he made himself an enemy of heaven and of mankind. It is not so strange, then, to suppose that vampires—impossibly strong, impossibly fair, immortal corruptions of human beings who prey on man—are the fallen angel's first attempt at creating demons. Indeed, though there is no evidence for it, a not insignificant number believe that the Cain of the Bible was the very first of our kind."

"Interesting." It was an explanation that Diana would have found convincing some fifteen years ago, before she'd lost her faith. It was a compelling story—though she imagined the notion didn't offer much comfort to any Christians who found themselves becoming vampires.

Aro brought tented fingertips to his lips, thoughtful, then seemed to come to a decision. He rose from his chair, a motion too swift to be natural, and Diana had to wonder if this was deliberate now that she was more accustomed to his unhumanity, or if he was simply so excited by whatever conclusion he'd just reached that he had momentarily forgotten to perform humanity.

"Come." Aro crooked a finger, already gliding gracefully towards the door. "I have something I would like to show you."

Curious, Diana followed. She was half expecting him to lead her once more to the art collection, but he didn't. The walk was short, just a few long hallways between Aro's study and their destination. He paused before two massive doors made of some fine dark wood, so large she doubted she'd be capable of budging one even if she threw her whole weight against it. Aro, over course, pushed them open without effort.

Diana's breath caught.

She had never seen a more impressive library. The high-ceilinged room had two levels, with elegant spiral staircases at even intervals leading up to a second level. Though mostly underground, a combination of high windows and beautifully wrought lamps filled the space with soft light. And, of course, the walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of books.

Diana had seen larger libraries—the one housed at her university had been bigger, though considerably less grand. But that library, though larger, had dedicated much of that space to things Diana had no interest in. Suspense novels, bodice rippers, self-help books, books to teach you knitting or gardening or motorcycle repair, and hundreds of dry history books detailing the same Civil War battles from slightly different perspectives.

She sincerely doubted any such things were shelved here. Aro seemed not to need physical contact to read her mind this time.

"There are volumes in this library that are unique in all the world." His voice was prideful but soft, respectful of the environment for all that they appeared to be the only ones in the library. "Original manuscripts, first hand accounts—the uncensored history of the world which has been, by necessity, hidden from humankind."

She wanted to read it all. How many times over the last weeks had she reeled over what wonders Aro must have seen in his millennia alive? How many times had she wished to steal Aro's power, just once, so she could witness it all herself? These books were the closest anyone else would ever get, but there were thousands of them, each one filled with knowledge that didn't exist anywhere else.

And it broke her heart.

"I could spend the rest of my time here and never make a dent in it." Her voice was hollow. It would take years to go through it all, if not decades. She had only a few months.

Aro's voice, gently encouraging: "Nothing would please me more than to give you the opportunity to read the collection in its entirety."

Diana tore her eyes away from the shelves to look at him. He was watching her back, something like cautious hope in his expression, and she realized his meaning. She would have all the time in the world to read the collection, if only she agreed to become a vampire.

And for the first time, despite herself, she considered it. She imagined spending long days and sleepless nights curled on one of the low leather couches, reading through stacks of books at a time. When she needed a break from reading she would seek out Aro, who was so infuriatingly charming and who seemed so genuinely pleased to have someone to discuss these things with, and she would curl up in her armchair in his study while they talked for hours. And years would pass, and Diana would read the library in its entirety, and if ever a day came when her curiosity about the past was sated, they could talk about the present and the future—because she, too, would be around to see it, and one day she, too, could reminisce about things a thousand years past.

Things she had seen with her own red eyes.

That thought cut the daydream short, as she remembered the price of that fantasy. While Aro had reluctantly confessed that it was technically possible, if extremely unpleasant, to survive by feeding on animals, Diana doubted she could manage such a thing. Maybe she would try it, and maybe she would even resist temptation for years or decades, but in the long run she doubted Diana the vampire would be able to deny herself pleasure and sustenance for the sake of clinging to human morality.

She'd been vegetarian briefly, in high school, at first to impress a girl she'd been infatuated with and then for moral reasons. After all, wasn't it wrong to take an animal's life when she didn't need to? When she could survive well enough on plants alone? Sure, animals ate other animals in nature, but they weren't thinking, moral creatures like humans were supposed to be.

Such thinking lasted her a year. The moral righteousness eventually waned, while the smell of Thanksgiving turkey and the red juices from a bloody steak grew more and more tempting. She reasoned to herself that while humans might strive to be moral animals, they were still animals—omnivores by evolution, meat a part of their natural diet. And while it was easy for a time to abstain when she was surrounded by like-minded vegetarian friends, it was much harder when surrounded by family who thought nothing of pepperoni pizzas and marshmallows in their hot cocoa.

None of the vampires in Volterra possessed golden eyes. She would have no like-minded peers if she tried to walk that path. Whether it took a year or a day, she was doomed to fail if she tried.

And so she wouldn't try. She would make the most of the time she had left, and then she would join her sister in whatever afterlife or oblivion came with death. Despite the temptation, her decision was unchanged.

But she had been tempted. And, worse, it was only a matter of time before Aro knew it.

"I think I should go now."

Aro's hopeful smile fell. Disappointed, he sighed, "As you wish."


September 18

On her way back from New Zealand, as Diana watched crowds of people rushing and meandering past her airport gate, she tried to guess how many human beings Aro had killed in his lifetime. From the spacing of the ill-fated tour groups in Volterra, it seemed that vampires tended to eat about once every two weeks. With 52 weeks in a year and a lifespan of nearly 3,500 years, that amounted to 91,000 people—and that was a low estimate. At best, Aro had killed the population equivalent of Trenton, New Jersey. More realistically, Diana guessed the number might be closer to the population of Kansas City.

So many human lives, lost.

Of course, on a per-year basis it was only a few dozen people. And Aro himself would likely argue that the sacrifice was worth it, because without him and the Volturi far more humans would die. After all, without their intervention, human civilization would never have been allowed to develop this far. What were a hundred thousand lives here or there, when without them millions of people wouldn't have been born at all? And hadn't humans killed each other in far greater numbers, for far less justifiable reasons?

She did her best to stop this train of thought, but had limited success. The devil's advocate in her mind, once so useful in her career for predicting and preempting counter-arguments, had been turned against her. Worse, it now spoke in Aro's pleasant, frustratingly reasonable tones.

And when at last she found herself back in Volterra, standing in the doorway of Aro's study and watching his eyes alight with pleasure as he stood and sighed her name, like she was a dear friend he'd missed terribly—

"I can't do this anymore," she realized aloud, softly.

Aro faltered, already halfway across the room to meet her. He paused, said with a puzzled frown, "I'm sorry?"

"Kill me," Diana said flatly. "Eat me, I don't care. I'm done."

She was. She had to be, because her own thoughts were beginning to betray her. She was warming up to Aro, and every step she took closer to him took her further away from humanity. If she kept at this any longer, kept visiting with him every other week, it would only get worse. It had only been two months, and already she had been tempted. She had to end this now.

"What brings this on?" Aro looked mystified. His hands fluttered in front of him as he drifted another step forward, as if restraining himself from surging forward to read the answer directly from her mind. "You have four months yet."

"I yield my time," she said simply. "I'm going to die anyway, my affairs are in order—now's as good a time as any."

This was mostly true. Her electronics would need to be wiped or destroyed, but Aro could easily see to that and see about staging some sort of accident to explain her death. Enough time had passed that such a thing wouldn't look too suspicious, and she was confident the Volturi had the experience and resources to pull it off.

Aro frowned, confusion warring with concern now. In the space of a blink he'd crossed the room and extended a hand to her, sternly expectant.

Diana clenched her hands into fists. She didn't want to show him, didn't want him to read what was going on in her mind, but if he was going to kill her then he'd see it anyway. Jaw tight, she put her hand in his.

For a moment, Aro went entirely still. Then, abruptly, his expression softened. He sighed.

"I see." A pause. Diana waited, hand still in his. Slowly, almost regretfully, he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a small, affectionate kiss to her knuckles. "No. No, my dear, I think not."

Inhaling sharply, she tried to pull her hand back, out of Aro's grasp. He held on, cold fingers gently but firmly trapping hers. Angry and irritated, she accused, "This was your plan the entire time."

Being charming, tempting her with the library, acting like they were friends, it was all designed to persuade her. No wonder Aro had agreed so easily to her bargain for six more months of life. It had given him precisely what he wanted—more time to win her over.

"I am gratified to hear you find me charming," Aro said cheerfully, experiencing her thoughts in real time. Diana glared, unimpressed, and he sighed again. "Can you truly blame me for trying to make the most out of our bargain? To kill you would be a momentary—" He paused, his eyes flicking to the pulse point in her neck. His own throat worked in a silent swallow before he continued, "—delight, admittedly. But also a simply dreadful waste of potential."

Diana narrowed her eyes. "You never intended to give me a choice at all."

"Of course you have a choice," Aro denied immediately. Diana almost relaxed, but then he went on breezily, "If you are truly determined to die today, then I'm sure my brother Caius would be happy to oblige."

Diana flinched. She didn't want it to be Caius. She'd seen what he had done to the secretary, and she'd had nightmares about it more than once—sometimes of Caius killing her, but more frequently of Diana herself taking his place, killing the woman herself. It had been horrifyingly violent, and for all that she preferred to die, she didn't want to die like that. And certainly not by Caius's hand.

She wanted it to be Aro. It wasn't something she'd thought before, at least not consciously, but on some level she had just assumed that when her time was up, he would be the one to kill her. The idea of going to Caius, or anyone else for that matter, was abhorrent to her. And Aro, still clasping her hand, knew it.

She wondered, impulsively, if she could force the matter. Aro had looked visibly tempted looking at her neck just a moment ago. If she bit her lip hard enough, spilled her own blood—

Aro's fingers tightened painfully around her own, just briefly. A warning not to try it. Defiant, she worked her jaw, preparing to bite down.

"If you tempt me, I will bite you," Aro said simply. There was no trace of his usual good humor in his expression. "And it will not be to kill you."

It will be to turn you, was left unspoken. Knowing immediately that she understood his meaning, Aro watched her, awaiting her decision in the face of this ultimatum. Diana had a sudden, uncomfortable suspicion that he was actually hoping she would call his bluff. The small quirk of his lips at this thought confirmed it.

"We're done here, then." Diana tugged futilely at her hand, face burning, desperate to leave. She would be back in two weeks, and then two weeks after that, and in that time she would just have to come up with some means of steeling her resolve, or else some other solution which didn't involve her transformation into a blood-sucking monster.

"Ah." Aro tapped one cold finger against hers, effortlessly keeping hold of her hand despite her yanking. "First I would have your assurance that you won't consider doing anything… rash."

Diana frowned, halting her attempts to pull away as she tried to parse Aro's words and his delicate tone. It took her a moment to realize that rash, in this instance, meant taking her own life. It wasn't a bad idea—if she was truly determined to die a human, it would be far more pleasant to take matters into her own hands than to turn herself over to Caius.

But she could never go through with it. She didn't have the nerve. Walking to face her own death at someone else's hands she could handle, just barely, because she felt she had no other choice. But to do it herself… no. Maybe it was a moral failing on her part, but she wouldn't be able to do it.

"Wonderful," Aro breathed, pleased with the results of her brief inner conflict. "That is a comfort."

Diana disagreed. And this time, when she pulled her hand away, Aro released her without complaint. She left swiftly, but despite her escape she couldn't help but feel she'd just lost something significant.