Here is the conclusion of Charlotte and Peter's story. I've changed the name of the first installment, because I like the Jules Verne theme and this way the titles reflect the progression of the way her life is changing here. And we'll see these two again; I've lost count of how many readers requested an outtake of Peter and Charlotte meeting the Cullens. So that'll definitely be coming eventually. This has been an interesting challenge, since these two are "good guys" and yet so different from the Cullens.

I hurried to Jasper's side, eager to get my blood. He led me silently through a winding path of scraggly trees and down into a valley. I felt calmer every minute; even my thirst cooled slightly. I needed to trust Peter and Jasper; they'd never separate us all like this if there was an imminent threat. And maybe the battle wouldn't be so bad… maybe they'd have even less than eleven.

Finally we stepped out of the trees into a clearing. My calm vanished suddenly; there was a huge fire that smelled strange, and I didn't see any humans ready for me. But then I saw Peter, standing with his back to the fire. I relaxed again and smiled, walking toward him and the fire.

But Peter didn't seem relaxed at all. As I approached him, his breathing grew faster and faster, his wide eyes darting between me and Jasper.

"Charlotte, RUN!" he bellowed suddenly.

I didn't even think to question him. I bolted, streaking past him and the fire. Less than a second later I heard pounding footsteps behind me. It was Peter, and he looked terrified now. He grabbed my upper arm, the same one he had torn off last week in training. "Faster!" he hissed, half shoving and half dragging me along. He looked back once, but there was no sign of pursuit. I was right, I realized with a chill. The Guatemalans had seen the thunderstorm and decided to make their move. Why on earth were we running away from the rest of our army?! Were we deserting during a battle? This was insane! If Maria didn't come and kill us for treason, we'd be captured by the enemy and killed anyway.

"What-"

"Shut up and run!" he snarled, pulling me along so roughly that my feet barely skimmed the ground. He seemed to be running in slow motion, keeping pace with me. If we were in that much danger, why didn't he just leave me behind? He veered to the north then, directly into the thunderstorm, but at least this would put some distance between us and Guatemala Coven territory. We ran through the rain, threaded through the mountains, and ghosted across grass-carpeted plains. We crossed vampire scent once and changed direction. Peter pushed me even harder after that. Every time we came to a creek he pulled me into the water, splashing along some of its length before jumping out onto dry land again.

Peter stopped on a dime when the sun rose. We were at the edge of a farm, still under the small canopy of trees that lined the easternmost field. It was colder. "We'll stop here for the day," he said absently. He finally let go of my arm and began pacing anxiously, scanning the horizon and muttering nasty words to himself. I couldn't take it for more than a few seconds; I was dying of thirst and out of patience.

"Do you mind explaining what's going on? If we just deserted, can we at least get some blood so-"

Peter laughed once, a strange high-pitched sound. "Deserted? I just signed both our death warrants!" He began pacing again.

I glanced back the way we had come. It was such a relief to see a different kind of terrain! I had known nothing but the barren rocks of some unnamed mountain since… it seemed like forever. There was so much green here. And it was so blissfully quiet. No shouting, no screaming, no snarling or fighting… just silence, with the distant chorus of birdsong. The gentle shush of a breeze. My head turned to a new sound I had never noticed as a human: the scratchy rubbing-together of thousands of individual leaves high in the trees above as the breeze stirred them. Each species of tree seemed to have its own unique whispered symphony. I closed my eyes, inhaling new scents that were sweet and warm. But it was all an illusion. Wherever we were, it was enemy territory.

"Let's go back," I pleaded, unable to believe I was saying the words. But Peter obviously regretted this already. Better to face the battle; at least one of us would survive. "You can talk to Jasper. Tell him we got nervous. Tell him it was my fault."

Peter stopped pacing and suddenly blinked over to stand right in front of me. I flinched, hissing and crouching away just as quickly in my panic. Daylight, I reminded myself frantically, but I had never been alone with anyone like this since my change. Nothing felt safe anymore, not even Peter. Especially not Peter.

He held up his hands in a peaceful gesture, walking toward me another step. He looked afraid as well. "Charlotte, please… let me explain. We can't go back. Jasper was going to kill you."

"What?!" I stopped backing away, frozen in panic. "Why would he kill me? I didn't do anything wrong! I know I'm not the best soldier, but the battle would-"

Peter shook his head. "I…" The fear in his eyes shifted suddenly, to something darker. He watched me for another moment, then lifted one hand toward me hesitantly. He dropped it again. He was scaring me.

"What?!"

"Last night… there was no battle. That was just a way for us to… I mean… It's standard procedure to…" He stared at me, his eyes straining to tell me something. He drew a deeper breath. "You're a year old," he said flatly.

"So?"

"All the Octobers are a year old. You aren't newborns anymore. You've all lost your newborn strength, your speed. It's Jasper's job…" He swallowed. "…and mine, to clean up. To dispose of the newborns when they get too old."

I blinked, standing up out of my crouch. Surely he hadn't… no. "The others? The ones that Jasper called out before me?"

"Dead."

I shook my head, taking another step backward as the pieces began to come together. "The fire." He nodded. "What about the Marches?"

"Jasper will tell them you were all killed in the battle. They'll be kept alive until their year mark. By that time a new batch will be up and running."

"A new batch?!" I snarled, taking another step backward. "Is that all we are?!"

His eyes softened, just a bit. "It's all any of us are. This is how it's done. Everywhere."

I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself tightly. It felt like something was breaking inside of me, or being torn away. This was what I had been made for? To be a worthless soldier who wouldn't even see battle, only to be thrown away once I became even more worthless? And Peter… The pain grew, centering in my chest like a dark hole that was pulling me into it. Peter had known, this whole time- he was part of it…

And then it hit me like a slap in the face: he was going to kill me himself. That was why he had been standing by the fire. He and Jasper had killed the others, and when I came out…

"Why?"

"Why what?"

I didn't even know why I was asking; it didn't matter. I needed to run, I needed to get as far away from him as possible. But I had to know first. "Why did you tell me to run?"

Peter shook his head, looking miserable as he began pacing again. "I just couldn't… I couldn't do it. I couldn't let him do it."

"Why not?" I demanded. "I was never more than part of the October batch, right? Why didn't you just do it? It was what you were going to do all along! Why did you come with me, anyway? Why didn't you just-"

"Because I love you, Charlotte!" he moaned, spinning back to face me.

Everything disappeared. The sounds, the scents, the air, the pain in my chest… "What?" I whispered.

"I love you," he whispered back, his eyes desperate and pleading now. He mouthed the words a third time. He took a step closer, holding his hand up toward me. But the pain rushed back, ten times more terrible than before. I scrambled backwards away from him. Daylight, daylight daylight-

"No, no no don't… don't be afraid of me!" He closed the distance between us in a flash, laying his hands on my shoulders. His dark eyes were only inches away. "Please don't! Charlotte, please!"

I twisted against his hands, panicking as they gripped me harder- just like when he had torn my arm off. "Let me go!" I shrieked. I lashed out instinctively, hitting and kicking and biting until I was battling thin air. Peter was suddenly a hundred feet away, holding his hands up in surrender and looking horrified. There was a fresh bite mark on his left cheek.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" I shouted, my voice trembling. "You're a liar and a murderer!" I turned to go. The pain in my chest grew as I looked away from him, but I had no choice. He was nothing like I had thought! All those silly daydreams about him being my friend, and the stupid cello, and laughing over our memories… it had meant nothing. He had known, all along. He had been planning it the whole time. Every smile, every laugh, every secret had meant nothing. I gripped my sides harder, trying to crush the pain as it grew. I had meant nothing. His words now meant nothing.

"I understand," he said faintly. He looked like he was going to be sick. Could we do that? "I understand," he repeated. "But we need to stick together, at least for now. It's too dangerous for you to be alone out here."

"You're the only dangerous thing out here," I hissed. I didn't turn back to him, but my feet had stopped working. Why couldn't I leave?

"Not to you," he protested. "I could never hurt you. Never." I shook my head, looking angrily away. "I know I was hard on you in training," he added quickly. "But it was all to save you. I thought I could prove to Jasper… to Maria, that you were worth keeping. That you could learn to fight smarter, even without your newborn strength. I asked him more than once, but he said Maria didn't want to keep anyone. I tried, Charlotte, but this was the only way to save you in the end. Please, believe me… I never wanted to hurt you."

I hugged myself so hard I couldn't breathe, trying to hide the sobs that I refused to show. My right hand crept up to my shoulder, wanting to tangle in my hair the way it was always had when I was upset- but the hair was gone, of course. He had probably hacked it off himself while I burned. "Just go," I whimpered. "Please, just go away."

"I can't."

"I don't want you, Peter." It was lie, it was such a lie. Every word made the pain worse.

"I can't, Charlotte. We're in enemy territory now. You're a miserable soldier, and you know it."

A laugh somehow broke out of the pain in my chest. Lies or not, he was right- I'd never make it on my own. Though how he would save us when we ran smack into the next army, I didn't know. I slowly turned to face him again, feeling suspicious. Why hadn't we been stopped and slaughtered yet? Why hadn't we crossed the scent of half a dozen patrols by now? What were the lies here, and what was the truth? "I don't smell anyone."

He looked around. "We're in Oklahoma… I think. I don't know who's up here, although I've heard stories…" He clenched his teeth, looking warily toward the east. "Anyway, it should be safer if we stick to places like this- farms, plains and such. The fighting is always the worst near the cities." He glanced back at me. "I want to go further north, up where the climate is worse for humans. There should be less fighting going on up there. And then… and then, if it looks safe, I'll leave you alone if you want me to. Or… at least I'll give you some space."

Peter's plan sounded like it made sense, and… maybe I just needed some time, to become brave enough to strike out on my own. An alliance, for now. The pain in my chest eased. I felt myself nodding. "All right. But just until then."

"If it looks safe," he repeated sharply. I nodded again, my hand creeping to my throat now.

"I'm thirsty."

"So am I," he admitted. "Come on." He turned toward the farmhouse and began moving silently through the field of hay.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, following him in.

"What's it look like? We're thirsty, remember?"

"Well… aren't you going to bring it back to me?"

He smiled sadly, turning halfway back but avoiding my eyes. "I thought you didn't want to be treated like a soldier anymore."

I followed him in silence, feeling uneasy. I had never hunted for myself before. It didn't seem right to bother these people in their home, to cut off their lives right as they were living them… but I supposed that was what Peter and Jasper and Maria had always done, in order to bring all of us our blood. We found the farmer just beginning his morning chores. Peter finally looked back at me, gesturing toward the man as he continued on toward the house. I snuck up behind the farmer inside the barn, moaning in relief as I sank my teeth into his throat. So good… He screamed and fought me at first, but this was one battle I always won.

When I had finished, I felt better. The pain in my chest was gone now- had that been the thirst? I didn't think so. Because as soon as I thought about sneaking off while Peter was in the house, it hurt again. The thought of not being near him...

Stop it, I ordered myself. He's a liar and a murderer.

The farmer's dead face was staring up at me from the floor of the barn. You're a murderer too, it seemed to say. I frowned back down at it, reaching out with my foot and flipping the body over onto its face. Of course I was a murderer, but that was different. I needed blood. I glanced around the barn, my eyes resting on an axe hanging by the door- for the chicken's necks, no doubt. And so are you, I thought peevishly down at the farmer's back.

Aren't we all.

I slid down the wall of the barn and drew my knees up to my chin, curling myself up into a miserable ball and hating the world I lived in now. And yet I found myself also full of relief at the armies that made it too dangerous for Peter to leave me alone.

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I startled when Peter strode into the barn, carrying a dead woman- the farmer's wife, no doubt- slung over his shoulder. I stood up.

"When did you feed? I didn't hear any screaming."

He shrugged, making the dead woman flop up and down. "I always kill them first."

I wrinkled my nose. "Why?"

He thought for a moment. "I don't know why. I guess because that's how Jasper does it." He scanned the interior of the barn, his eyes resting on a spot just behind me. "Hand me that shovel?"

I tossed it to him. He unceremoniously dumped the woman down on top of the farmer and walked out. A couple seconds later I heard the shovel biting into the ground. I came out and watched him work for a moment. "I'm surprised," I finally said.

"At what?"

"I would have thought Jasper was the type to… you know, play with his food." I made a face, remembering some of the games my fellow Octobers liked to play at mealtime. At least Peter had never done that, at least not that I had seen.

Peter stopped digging and frowned up at me from the ditch he had dug himself into . "He's not like you think he is."

I frowned back. "Oh, really? He's not the type to murder his own soldiers in cold blood, bringing them out one at a time like lambs to a slaughter?"

Peter swallowed, but kept looking up at me. "He didn't have a choice. He didn't ask for this life." His eyes were pleading. I stared down at him, shaking my head slightly before walking away. I barely heard his whisper behind me: "I'm sorry." I paused, wondering what I was supposed to say to that. So I said nothing. I gritted my teeth and walked back to the farmhouse. I found some withered flowers and spent the rest of the morning making myself a new necklace, so my fingers would have something to tug on while I tried not to fall in love.

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We only travelled by night. Peter always stayed far ahead: to scout for the scent of other vampires, but it also made it easier not to talk that way. We hid during the day, in thickets or fields of corn, or in barns like the one we had found that first night. I could almost pretend that we were the only vampires around, that there was no danger, that we didn't have to keep running. But we knew we were on borrowed time. It was a miracle we hadn't run into fresh vampire scent again since that first night. But we knew that even here, in the relatively empty Midwest, there were battles and patrols and deadly rivalries, just like back in Mexico. The territories must be bigger up here- that made sense with the sparser human population- and that must be why we were still alive. The armies probably did less patrolling; a higher risk of poaching, surely, but there would be more danger if their soldiers were spread out too thin. Peter wondered if the territories here might be more flexible, boundaries shifting as the covens and their armies made a slow, endlessly cycling tour around their traditional lands.

I had argued with Peter that second night, wanting to stay here and eke a living around the farms and ranches that dotted the prairie. We had been fine so far, I pointed out, and it shouldn't be too difficult to stay ahead of the patrols once we learned what their patterns were. But he was adamant that our best chance at survival was to get as far north as possible, where humanity was so sparse that the bloodfields would be vast and thin and hardly worth defending.

It seemed so unfair. I had never been so free, in a way, to travel the vast rainbow of landscapes that America had to offer. Things I had only read about and dreamed about were out here. And now that I was barred from human society, the nature itself drew me as it never had before. I wanted to stop for days at a time, staring at natural wonders: at stars, unusual rock formations, even at animals I had never seen before. I had this human daydream, one in which my brilliant, promising husband and I struck out West and built a life in this glorious, open quiet. A little farmhouse, a freshly painted barn, a garden, children…

But instead, we had this: an unmapped labyrinth of danger, where one fateful turn could be our last. Fields overripe with crops that could not sustain us, and herds of livestock that we had no use for. The land was just as beautiful to our eyes- more so, perhaps- but it was forbidden. If Peter's plan saved us in the end, all I had to look forward to was an eternity of isolation in a kingdom of ice and snow, stalking our prey when I could find them, their blood already half-frozen in their veins. Would that life be enough? It was far more than I had had a week ago. And if we made it there… I glanced over at Peter again, trying to twist my other daydream into some vampire daydream in which we stayed together up there. But how could I trust him? How could I accept his apology, his protest that he had never asked for this life either, when he had fed me so many lies? And what about his profession of love? How could I trust that?

How could I trust myself, when I knew I loved him too?

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Peter's thirst surprised me. I had thought I was the bloodthirsty newborn, but by our fourth night on the run his eyes were already black and desperate. I happily followed him toward the campground we found ourselves near. We circled around to the back, hiding ourselves in the woods behind the camper furthest from the road. It was nearly dawn.

"There are too many humans around for us to make any noise," Peter cautioned me.

"I can be quiet."

"I know you can, but your prey can't make any noise either. You'll need to kill it first, the way I did with the woman the other day." I reluctantly agreed, silently following him to the door of the camper. He tried the handle, but it was locked. Glancing once around the campground, he rapped gently on the door. An elderly man's face appeared at a window, disappearing again. My thirst ignited and a growl rumbled in my throat as I began to sink down into an attack crouch. Peter grabbed my arm.

"The others," he hissed, his eyes darting toward the other campers. "Wait." His hand was trembling on my arm, though, and so was his voice as the door opened and he asked the man if we could have a drink of water, as we had gotten lost and been out in the woods all night. The man opened the door wider for us to enter, and Peter barely made it inside before lunging at him. I snarled and almost attacked Peter to fight him for his prey, but thankfully there was a woman inside the tiny kitchen as well. I grabbed her, copying Peter's motions as he covered the man's mouth with one hand and broke his neck with the other. We fed together in the tiny space, almost touching as we fed. I trembled and watched Peter the whole time I was drinking, afraid he would attack me if he finished first.

He didn't. He was done first, but he moved away until I was finished. "Better?" he asked when I was done. I nodded, raising my hand to wipe the blood off my face. I was surprised at how clean I was; since the woman's heart hadn't been beating while I fed, the whole thing had been far less messy. And I was surprised at how the blood was no less satisfying. I looked down at her now, laying crumpled at my feet. Her neck was clean, too. The way her head was tipped forward over the wound, she almost looked like she was asleep. I found myself feeling glad, for her sake, that I had make it quick. It made me feel… well, nothing like human, but better. Less of a nightmare. It felt like clicking one more piece of the puzzle back into place… or maybe forcing a piece into a space that was almost the right shape. I'd never find all the pieces- I knew that- but it was something.

"Much better," I admitted. "I want to feed like this from now on."

Peter suddenly looked hopeful. "Together?"

Yes! Together. "No, killing them first."

His shoulders drooped slightly. "Oh."

It suddenly felt very cramped inside the tiny kitchen. I glanced around the miniature human habitat, feeling sad and glad all at once to be in something like this again. I went over to the sink and rinsed the blood off my hands and face. If it weren't for the fact that I was stepping over a corpse to do so, it might have felt normal. I stood back and let Peter have a turn at the sink. He also dipped his head down under the faucet, running his fingers through his hair. Then he turned his face, letting the water beat down on his left cheek for a moment. He was trying to clean the venom out of the bite mark I had given him.

"Does it still hurt?" I mumbled as he stood back up. He dabbed at the wound with the red dishtowel, wincing. Now that he had gotten more of the venom out, I could see that the wound had deepened over the past two days. And there was still venom in it- I could see the silvery reflection coming from deep inside the bite marks. It was going to keep getting worse. My own cheek burned. And then my heart burned, that cold part of me that I had thought dead, that should be dead, when I realized there was only one way to heal it for him.

"It's fine." He tossed the towel back onto the sink, looking around the kitchen for something. I moved out of his way, stepping backwards over the body of his prey and finding myself in the living room already, such as it was. I watched curiously as he opened the cabinet under the miniature stove and pulled out a small tank of kerosene. He began sprinkling the kerosene over our prey, and I backed up so he could sprinkle the rest on the little couch. I covered my nose; it smelled horrible.

Peter rummaged through more of the cabinets, finally finding a matchbook. "Anybody walking around out there?" he asked me, nodding toward the window facing the campground. I peeked out and shook my head. He lit a match and dropped it onto the dishcloth that was still glistening with my venom. It ignited instantly. I jerked instinctually away from the flame, remembering the last time I had seen Peter and fire together.

By the time we heard the first human shout, we were nearly half a mile away. We ran in silence another minute or two. "Stop," I called up ahead.

Peter stopped and turned to face me. He was glittering in the first rays of dawn. "What?"

I took a deep breath, willing myself to close the distance between us. "Hold still, all right? I've never done this before." He tilted his head in confusion. I traced a line on my cheek, indicating the wound on his.

"I said I'm fine," he insisted, but stayed put. I tensed, drawing so close that I was looking nearly straight up into his crimson eyes. It was almost daylight…

"Can't reach," I squeaked, hating how high my voice came out. He inclined his head down, but that made me more nervous. "Just…" I hissed, backing away and waving my hand uselessly, "just sit down."

I knelt down beside him, so close that his scent was a strawberries-and-cream haze around me. Cautiously, I leaned in until my lips were barely touching his cheek. My instincts vibrated again, but I needed to do this. He's not going to hurt me. Daylight. I gently pulled out the venom, feeling the pain in my chest again as he tensed. I turned my head and spat the venom away, moving in again for a second try. But instead I watched in fascination as the torn tissues began to knit themselves together, the inside layers first and then the skin on the outside. It took less than two minutes to heal, leaving behind a new scar to match the others. Peter sighed in relief.

"I'm sorry about that," I said quietly, still watching the scar. Now stand up, Charlotte. Peter's eyes were still closed. Maybe if I tried again, the scar would heal even more… I inched my face closer to his again, but I found my own eyes closing. Some strange part of me didn't want the scar to go away.

"Charlotte," he whispered, inclining his head imperceptibly lower. His mouth brushed my shoulder, and I was suddenly on my feet, standing several feet away.

"Don't," I pleaded. To him, or to myself?

He nodded, watching me as he also stood. His hand crept up to touch the scar I had given him. I have no memory of how long we stood there staring, or what I was thinking, or when I realized that his eyes weren't as bright a crimson anymore; I only know that the sun began to set a moment later. The last purple light of dusk brushed away from Peter's face, stealing away its glistening magic. I looked away, and out of the corner of my eye I saw his hand come down from his face.

We moved on again. And this time, we ran together.

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"I was trying to remember, yesterday morning…" Peter began, the next night as we ran under the stars.

I turned to face him mid-stride, my bitter laugh coming out before I could stop it. "What are you doing?"

"Remembering," he said, sounding hurt. "Is that… all right?"

I clenched my teeth, focusing on my run. I could feel him watching me and waiting for an answer, but what was I supposed to say? Yes, let's go back to the way it was before, where you pretended to be my friend but you were lying to me the whole time? To a time when you were the only thing standing between me and despair, as you silently counted down the days I had left? To before you declared your love, ten seconds after you admitted you had just been about to kill me? To the days where my heart was safe, because it was never going to be more than what we already had?

But my treacherous heart warmed, to have this again. "It's all right," I finally admitted. "It's just… can't we wait until daylight?"

"What for?"

"We always did our remembering in the daylight," I said stubbornly.

Peter stopped on a dime, grabbing my arm to halt me as well. I tensed, but didn't pull away.

"I was a liar and a murderer," he said fiercely. "And you were nothing but a throwaway soldier."

The words stabbed and slashed through me with their truth. My eyes squeezed closed against the attack, but Peter didn't let go. "That was the way it was. Charlotte, look at me, please! Can't you see that? That's what was. That's not what is. I know this was stupid, that we might not have much time left, but even if we don't…" I finally looked up into his eyes, and they brightened with hope. "Even if all we have is one more day, can't we spend it in a new way? Can't we leave all that behind? Can't you give this a chance? Can't you give me a chance?"

His eyes! There seemed to be the whole world inside his eyes. And what he said was so beautiful, and of course I wanted it… but then his hands tightened on my shoulders and it all came rushing back. His hand, gripping my shoulder as his other hand wrenched my arm away. His foot, kicking that arm away like a worthless animal. His eyes, dark with disappointment and anger when I failed in training. His teeth, gleaming with venom as he shouted at me to do better. To fight smarter.

To survive.

I closed my eyes, zipping through my perfect memory to observe all the times he was harsh with me before, back with Maria. Every time, it was as he said now- trying to save me. Trying to make me worthy of being kept like him and Jasper. Trying to teach me to survive. Then I thought of all the times he had been angry with me- every time it was because I wasn't living up to what he was trying to do.

When I separated those memories into a neat pile, deciding that yes, he had done all that in order to save me, I looked at what I had left. Peter had still been unhappy- that was always obvious. He had been no less a slave than I was, nearly all of his time devoted to caring for and training us. There was always the possibility of battle, and it had always been obvious, even to me, that his position was far lower, far less secure than Jasper's. And I hadn't known the other grim duty that he had been dreading that whole time. But I began to remember more of his smiles now, now that I had the darker memories pulled aside. His pride in me on those occasions I actually did well in training. How impressed he had been, back when I was new and yet calmer than the other Octobers. I remembered the extra time he had spent with me in training, since I was actually capable of focusing for hours at a time. I remembered how those training times alone had led to conversations, which led to our remembering times. Once the Marches had started trickling in, he hadn't had much time for extra training, but the remembering times continued.

That was when he had begun to get angry, I realized. When he saw that October was approaching fast, and when he realized that I wasn't going to make the cut. That unless he could make a miracle occur, there wouldn't even be a cut to make. I thought back to that last fight, the one where we lost our arms. I remembered Peter eagerly drawing Jasper's attention to my creativity. But Jasper had made me continue the fight. Now I understood why he had looked at Peter and shaken his head. No, not good enough. I felt more pieces finally coming together.

When had Peter's puzzle become mine?

"That was when you loved me," I said thoughtfully. "When you realized I wasn't good enough for them to keep me."

Peter blinked, probably trying to guess my train of thought. "Actually," he said with a hint of a smile, "I didn't realize I loved you until last week. I knew I was trying to save you, but I didn't understand why- I thought it was just because we were friends, that we enjoyed talking together. I was angry because I knew I was going to have to let you go... let that go. But when the time came…" His grip on my shoulders became softer. "I knew I couldn't do it. Believe me, I would have made a better plan than running off in full view of Jasper! Why he let us go, I don't understand…" he shook his head, looking thoughtfully down at nothing.

"I can try," I whispered.

"Try what?"

I drew a deep breath, making myself relax even though he was still gripping my shoulders. "Try to leave all that behind. Try to make something new."

He smiled and nodded, though his eyes were sad. He let his hands slide down off my shoulders and took a step backwards away from me. "That's all I ask."

"But it's not all you want?"

"It's all I need." The pain in his eyes, before he turned to hide them from me, bespoke his lie. I took another deep breath and told myself to stop being such a coward. I reached, trembling, and put my hand in his.

"And… time is all I need," I said quietly. "Now, what was it you were trying to remember yesterday?"

His eyes brightened to match his smile now. We talked the rest of the night, and we did no running. The dawn might herald our last day on this earth, but this time we spent the night walking nowhere in particular, hand in hand.

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I had less time than I thought. Dawn didn't bring death, but it was ominous enough. The sky was red in the west, not the east. The redness grew and swirled and darkened until the whole western horizon was a deadly black. The sun was up now, but it was quickly losing the battle. We stopped running and watched in wary confusion as the blackness approached. The wind rapidly picked up, and by the time the blackness was almost on top of us it was a gale, whistling sharply as it scraped across our hard skin. And then, almost at the last moment, I finally found some hazy memories of newspaper articles and realized our danger: we were smack in the middle of the Dust Bowl.

"It's a dust storm!" I shouted over the wind. Peter was pulling me along with the wind, and we broke into a run, away from the gray pillar that was now visible in the center of the black wall behind us. The storm began a few seconds later, a miserable driving rain of dirt and dust and filth. I felt the peculiar urge to cough, for the first time since my awakening. It was horrible. I could feel every individual particle as it swept into my lungs- or whatever was left of my lungs- and coated my eyes and my tongue and found its way inside my nose and my ears. I stopped breathing, bringing my free hand up to cover my nose.

"We've got to get out of this!" Peter shouted, and though he was close enough to still be holding my hand, his words were nearly lost in the rushing roar of the storm. We looked around wildly for shelter, but we could hardly see each other, much less a house or cave on the horizon. Peter finally let go of my hand and attacked the ground underneath our feet, shouting for me to help. We dug furiously, all the while keeping our shoulders and faces hunched together to block as much of the dust as we could.

Vampire speed isn't much use when your enemy is just as fast as you, but it's good for some things. Within a few seconds we had a hole deep enough to crawl into, and we frantically pulled the loose earth back over ourselves. We dug even deeper once we had some minor layer of cover, and we were soon in total blackness as the storm raged on overheard.

But a new storm was swirling inside me now. I wasn't ready for this, for Peter's body to be mashed up against mine, our arms and legs tangled in a tight wad inside the hole we had dug- inside the total night that we had created under a sky that was probably total night to human eyes. I started shaking, tormented by memories of my first week after awakening: the wild terror of what I had become, the violence when several of us would tangle together to fight, the pain of the bites and rough dismemberments, the feeling that this night of horror would never end.

But now, just as then, Peter was there. He held me tight, and when I whispered to ask, tighter. And there, in a grave of our own making, I found my refuge in Peter's arms and learned to feel safer than I had ever felt before.

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We had become so accustomed to our false freedom, in those few short weeks, that it was a shock when we finally ran into fresh vampire scent. We instantly retreated, but panicked as we soon scented a second vampire, even closer.

"Let me do the talking," Peter whispered as he pulled me halfway behind him. "If you feel me move to attack, move to the opposite side and watch my eyes for what to do." I nodded, all too happy to hide behind his arm. We both crouched slightly, and I heard a growl rumbling in Peter's throat.

They appeared in front of us then: a female whose skin was as white as our own, and a male who was the darkest vampire I had ever seen. The female was nearly as large as the male, and her teeth were already bared as they approached. Their clothes weren't quite as ragged as ours, but the male looked afraid. He held up his hands peaceably, frowning at Peter's aggressive posture.

"My name is Jonah," he said in a comforting Creole accent. "This is my mate, Susan. Is this your territory? We don't want to cause offense."

Peter's growl subsided, though he didn't stand up out of his attack crouch. Jonah slid one arm out in front of his mate in a way that mirrored Peter, though she actually looked more dangerous than he did. She had two visible scars on her face and her teeth were still bared. "We haven't hunted in this area yet," Jonah assured us. "Though if you are not claiming it…" he trailed off, looking awkward.

Peter slowly eased up into standing, though I could still feel the tension in his arm. "What coven do you serve?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Jonah tilted his head, looking curiously at both of us in turn. "No coven."

The female finally spoke. "Were you in the Southern Wars?" When we made no answer, she pushed her mate's arm aside and stepped closer, her head held high but her ferocity gone. "I was made by Lorenzo, Arizona Coven. I saw battle three times." She rolled up a sleeve, exposing two more scars: one a bite, the other a jagged tear. "I deserted during the third battle; we were losing and I decided to see if it was possible to join a stronger coven. I ran for days, waiting to be challenged by scouts from all the armies I had heard about."

"Ghost armies," Jonah said fondly, smiling down at her. "You almost killed me when we first met."

"True," she laughed.

"We deserted too, three weeks ago," I blurted out. Peter gripped my arm harder, hissing for me to be quiet. "And we've been surprised not to encounter anyone before you."

"That's because there's no one to encounter," Susan said with a smug grin. "You've probably been fed the same lies I was. That there are armies and Wars covering the earth, right?"

"I don't understand," Peter said, still gripping my arm.

"That's what they tell all the newborns," Susan spat, her red eyes glaring past us to the southwest. "What better way to keep the soldiers in line, than to make them believe the world is full of danger? I learned from Jonah that I had been created for what the rest of the world calls the Southern Wars. The fighting is mostly limited to Central America, some of the southern states, and…." She paused. "I don't know how far into South America. I've heard Peru is free."

"Free," I repeated dumbly. The word sounded too good to be true. Could we trust them, though?

"Why should we believe you?" Peter challenged.

Susan shrugged. "Believe me or not, I don't care. And I don't blame you for being skeptical… I was at first." She smiled up at Jonah, her hard features softening slightly. "But anyone you meet will tell you the same. There are several of us fugitives out in the open. I've met two others."

"What about Europe?" I asked. "Isn't the fighting over there being driven by the German coven?"

Jonah laughed. "There is no such coven, at least not that I've heard! The humans caused that mess on their own."

My head was spinning. "The Volturi?"

"Oh, they're real enough," Susan said darkly. "They're the rulers of our world, or they're supposed to be. I wish they'd pay more attention to what's going on down in Central America."

"I don't," Jonah said warmly, laying his hand on her shoulder. "We never would have met. Or you might have been my dinner one day." She laughed at this, nuzzling her face against his. They seemed so relaxed- both with each other, and with us strangers. Peter and I looked at each other, and I knew he felt the same wonder I did. Was this world really as free as that? Were we as free as that? Peter finally released his grip on my arm, sliding his hand down to tangle his fingers in mine.

"My name is Peter," he announced. "Made by Maria in Mexico." Susan's eyes widened slightly at this, but she made no other sign.

"Charlotte," I said.

"Pleased to meet you," Jonah said kindly. "You'll find that most of our kind aren't hostile… though you'd do well not to begin conversations by growling," he advised Peter. "Most of our kind are nomads like us… like you, unless you decide to settle down somewhere."

"Nomads?" Peter echoed.

"It's what you call any vampire who doesn't claim a permanent territory," Susan explained. "Many vampires aren't what you'd call friendly, but it is rather nice to have a chat with someone every couple of years- catch up on any gossip, that sort of thing. When you've been travelling for a few decades, you get to know a few of the other North American nomads, if you stick around. There are at least twenty-five of us, more or less, though I've personally only met seventeen. And some are only in North America part of the time. Some travel alone, some with a mate or occasionally a friend. Some nomads like to stake a claim to a certain city for a while, so you'll need to respect that. Otherwise, just steer clear of the South and you'll be fine. And you know about the Law, right? No letting the humans realize we exist?"

Peter nodded.

"I don't know how we can thank you," I said in a rush.

"I'm glad we could help," Jonah said. "I hope we'll meet again someday. Hunt?" he asked Susan. She nodded and they darted away to the North.

Peter and I stood staring after them for a long time. I finally pulled my hand out of his and turned around in a complete circle, taking in the landscape and the sky and the scents and the breeze as if for the first time. The world suddenly seemed so beautiful, and so big! It was all there for the taking. "I can't believe we're free," I breathed.

"If it's true," Peter murmured, his voice odd. I turned back to face him.

"Don't you believe them?"

Peter looked troubled. He nodded slowly.

"Then what? You're angry at Maria?"

"No. I mean, yes. It's not that…" He tilted his head, his eyes straining into the distance for something. And then all at once a beautiful smile broke out over his handsome face. He looked down at me. "Susan," he said. "My mother's name was Susan."

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We took our new freedom cautiously. It was still possible that we had been lied to, that it was all some kind of trap. But as the weeks wore on, we grew bolder. We finally ventured into St. Louis to feed one night, and met another vampire named Garrett. He was cheerful and generous, and he confirmed everything that Jonah and Susan had told us. He had even met them once, thirty years ago. He was old, and had some interesting tales to tell as we passed the daylight in an abandoned apartment he had taken up residence in for a while. He offered to take us on a tour of the city in the afternoon, but we were uncomfortable being so close to crowds of humans. So he shrugged and wished us well, and sauntered away.

We climbed up onto a grassy knoll where we could overlook the city. Garrett had been quite the talker, and for a while we just soaked in the silence and the view together. The grass was crunchy with frost, making the most curious sound when I ran my fingers over it. I was surprised to find a beautiful white flower growing close to the ground, this late in the year. Its petals were delicately encased in ice, its youth frozen in time by some sudden frosty rain. It was dead, all right, but it seemed beauty could be found after death after all.

After a while I began humming the concerto that we had begun piecing together that last week in Mexico. Peter joined me in humming after a while, but suddenly fell silent. I stopped as well, waiting for him to tell me what was on his mind.

"We're free," he said simply. "I didn't really believe it… not until now. We're safe."

"I know." I laid back on the grass, watching the sky as a light snow began to fall. I had never seen snow before, at least not that I could remember. The silence grew louder, and we watched in fascination as the flakes drifted lazily back and forth on their journey down. Soon we were dotted with white, the snow not even bothering to melt on our cold skin. Each flake tickled as it landed. I laughed at Peter and flicked my hand through his hair, sending a spray of snow over both of us. He smiled, gently picking up my hand. He looked worried.

"You're safe. You're free, Charlotte, to do whatever you want."

I crawled closer, nestling myself into his arms. "I'm doing it. This is freedom. I want to explore the whole world with you."

He smiled down at me in relief, pulling me closer. "So do I." On a whim, he picked the frozen flower and tied it around my finger, the icy bloom sparkling on my hand like a diamond. "And we have all the time in the world."

He kissed me then, under the falling snow and the darkening sky. And when some of the snowflakes hung in the sky and became the stars and night fell... I wasn't afraid.