As often happens with these things, this has turned into a three-chapter outtake. I hadn't realized I had so much to say about Renata! I think her story is just so fascinating, and in a way her character is probably the biggest "self-insert" I've done to date, so I've really had a wonderful time writing this. Enjoy part 2 of 3 :)

Renata POV

I bade my family goodbye on the next new moon. They all accompanied me to the altar, even my younger cousins. Mother had dressed me in my wedding gown. In my hands I clutched a bouquet of the white flowers she always offered to Uncle Luca, with my rosary spilling over my trembling fingers. But it was strange; I wasn't afraid like I should be. I still knew nothing of the future that awaited me- only that I was not the first to be chosen. And I still did not know what my uncle was, but I wasn't afraid, not very much. I was trembling with anticipation and wonder. I had always felt different, removed from my loved ones, and the fact that I had been chosen for a fate so mysterious felt... right, in some way. Surely my courage was sinful; I should be more concerned for my immortal soul, for my family.

"You are so very beautiful, Renata," one of my aunts murmured as she adjusted my veil at the altar. I felt someone adjusting the sash at my waist. A change had come over them all, since I had been chosen. They had ignored me before; now they seemed to revere me. They did not understand the mystery either, but they acted like I was being raised above them... or perhaps that I was becoming something to be feared. Perhaps I was.

"Whatever happens," Mother said through her tears as she fussed over my gown as well, "you will always be here, in my heart. And my prayers. You will be remembered, dearest."

"Bless you, Mother," I squeaked out. Now that the moment was here, my heart felt so tightly strung I could scarcely breathe. My headache was pounding. Mother lifted her hand to touch my hair one last time, but she seemed unable to close the small distance between us. She laid her loving touch on my veil instead, her fingers grazing the delicate fabric. I leaned forward and kissed her cheek through the thin barrier of the veil.

There was no ceremony. I just turned in a slow circle and offered a silent goodbye to the family I loved. If I was to join Uncle Luca in his vigil, perhaps I would not be leaving them at all. But I knew, whatever else, that they would not lay eyes on me again.

I gripped the flowers and my rosary tighter, drew a deep breath, and walked on into the forest alone. Mother's catching sobs sounded behind me, and my own breast heaved at the tender sound, but I must not look back. Mother's last sight of me must be one of courage. I walked on.

The night grew colder and darker as I picked my way through the tangled brush and brambles. My wedding gown caught on thorns with every step I took. There was no path in these woods; what if I went the wrong way? How did Mother even know this was the correct night? A wolf howled in the distance, making me shiver. My headache was pounding in time with my racing heart.

"Renata," a voice whispered on the breeze. I whirled around, seeing nothing.

"Uncle?" I choked out, peering through the lacy branches around me. "I... I have come."

I felt a gentle touch against the back of my shoulders. I was enveloped in the sweet air that had come to smell like home. I closed my eyes, afraid to look. Would there be anything to see? I finally felt the thrill of fear. Images of skeletons and green vapors and ghoulish spirits danced through my imagination.

"Do not be afraid, dearest girl," the voice said into my ear. It reminded me of music... like the sound of a wooden flute. "But I must be sure. Do you come willingly?"

My fingers clutched the tiny crucifix on my rosary. I drew a trembling breath and turned, opening my eyes. And there stood an old man before me, hardly taller than myself. At least his hair was white. His skin was smooth with youth- so smooth he seemed to glow in the starlight. His eyes were dark, though I could not tell which color. But I could see the gentleness... the love that I had felt for years, the understanding I had never felt from the family I could see and touch. I smiled at him, lowering my bouquet.

"I do."

He moved closer. "Then you must trust me. The change takes three days. It will feel longer than that, but I will be waiting for you on the other side."

"Change into what?"

But his answer was a white cloth, suddenly held tight against my face. I gasped in surprise, breathing in a strange smell. I began to struggle, but his arms were like a marble cage. The more I fought, the more I inhaled the foul-tasting air. The image of my uncle before my eyes began to swim.

"Trust me, Renata," he repeated softly. "All will be well. Just breathe."

I only fought harder. Another gasp made the forest twist and spin around me. I felt myself sinking into the arms that held me, and all became darkness.

.

.

.

There was fire all around me. There had always been fire; there had never been anything else. It burned my flesh, my eyes. It burned through my heart and my reason until I could scream no longer. I could only curl myself into a ball in a dark corner. But the fire followed me.

After a time- years, surely- the fire began to recede from the corner. I felt a coolness in my hands, like they were dipped in the blessed relief of water. It only made the rest of the fire hotter. But in time more of me was submerged in the coolness. Finally it was only my center that burned, and my head. It was like no headache I had ever felt before; I thought the flames would burst my skull asunder. Strangely enough, it made me feel stronger. I felt that if the fire would only leave me, I would be strong enough to fly.

My eyes fluttered open, revealing the sunlight filtering through treetops. The sun was so very bright! And yet I could stare into its depths without pain. I noticed movement on one of the branches, causing my eyes to dart and catch it. A caterpillar wiggled his fuzzy body as he crawled along; his funny face smiled at me.

"Renata?"

I startled at the voice, feeling that I should run. I swept to my feet, baring my teeth and snarling a warning at my attacker. But it was only an old man... I knew him. Uncle. But his eyes were a frightening red.

"Uncle..." I flinched at my own voice; it was different. "Luca?"

"Yes, my child. The change is complete."

I drew backwards away from him. "There was a fire. You hurt me."

He held up his hands in gentle surrender, but followed me step for step. "It was necessary... I am sorry. I was as gentle as I could be. But it is done; you will never feel pain again. Not even the pain of old age."

I realized then that I was crouched to the ground like an animal. I stood, smoothing the filthy, shredded veil that clung to my shoulder. I was still wearing my wedding gown. Even my rosary was still with me, now looped and clasped around my wrist like a charm. I felt alive and strong and vigorous, but... something was wrong. Something was missing.

"My headache," I exclaimed, my fingers flying to my brow. The crucifix clattered upon my cheek with the sound of metal striking stone.

"Never again," Uncle Luca smiled.

I smiled back. But now my hand trailed down to my throat; the fire had not been fully banished there. No, it was not quite pain... more like longing. The need grew as I focused on it, the flames flickering higher.

Uncle Luca held out his hand. "You are thirsty. Come, I will explain everything."

I remembered trusting him. I stepped forward, reaching to give him my hand. But as I approached, he stumbled away.

"Renata?" he asked, his snowy brows furrowing together. He looked around, blinking, confused.

"I am thirsty," I cried, reaching for him again. This time he turned and began to walk away, before turning to peer at me in question again. "What is wrong?" I demanded, wringing my hands. The flame in my throat was roaring now; if I did not have a drink I thought I should die. What if the fire spread to the rest of my flesh again?!

"Yes, of course," he murmured uncomfortably. "Well, I think... let me bring it to you instead."

After securing my promise to wait, he vanished. It was torture, just sitting there as the fire threatened to envelop me, and I was afraid of my uncle's odd behavior. Had I done something wrong? I had acted like an animal in the beginning, but he did not behave so. I clutched the beads at my wrist, crying out in alarm when two of them were crushed to dust between my fingers. I longed to touch the comfort of the crucifix itself, but I was afraid to damage the fragile metal.

What had I become?

.

.

.

My new life was one of great mystery. In one sense I had become an angel, greater than an earthly person in every way. Once when I was small, Mother had hired a famous painter to do my portrait. I remembered staring at the portrait in wonder in the days that followed. The girl he had created was myself, but so much more beautiful than myself. And so much larger; the painting filled the wall over a staircase. I remembered feeling afraid of the girl, all the more for her resemblance to my mortal self.

That was how I felt now. I was myself, and yet not. More beautiful, more strong, so very fast and clever and brave. An angel indeed. But when the flames visited my throat, I became a demon, feasting on the blood of men. Uncle had taken me to Spain so that I might not disturb the small population of our island with my hunting, and so that I might not falter and take one of our own.

"It is only natural, what we must do," he taught me. "But to feed on the Patronii, that is a grave sin. We are entrusted with earthly immortality so that we might protect our family, Renata. Remember that."

"But shall I never see my mother again?" I begged. For he himself continued to return on the equinoxes to the altar, leaving me alone to wait for his return.

"Soon," he promised. "You are still so young; the madness will pass."

It did. The wildness of my first days was tempered with time and with practice. I was soon able to cradle the cross on my wrist and find comfort in my prayers. But there was one mystery that it seemed would never be solved: Uncle still could not touch me, nor I him. And it was not only him. As I calmed, I was learning to stalk my unfortunate victims in silence and stealth. But whenever I drew close to a person, even if they did not see me, they were repelled. Indeed I could not even grasp them to feed, but by rushing and taking hold faster than their mortal bodies could escape me.

What was wrong with me, that I should repel others? Was there some demon within me, or some sin that had marked me with a blight? I did not think so; Uncle was as bloodthirsty as I, and he was not cursed like I was. He said I should not think of it as a curse, but a blessing. That some among our kind- vampires, I had learned- were graced with strange "gifts", as he called them. Powers that transcended even our powerful forms. He told me stories of famous vampire heroes of old, with abilities both wondrous and fierce- powers to burn the mind or the flesh, wisdom to see the thoughts of men, talent to paint rainbows in a clear sky. I recalled to him the night when my stepfather had tried to handle me, and had been mysteriously repelled. He had indeed not been present; he guessed that my gift was already forming, as a mortal, and that my headaches may have had something to do with it as well.

I was not quite able to see my isolation as a gift. But it was not so very terrible. I had never been an affectionate child; I had always squirmed when Mother had covered me with kisses and baby sounds. I had never liked the rough-and-tumble games of the other children. I had never longed for the touch of a man the way my cousins had giggled and moaned over in those last years. I remembered my dread of marriage with resounding gratitude that I had escaped it.

But as time passed, I grew lonely for the warmth of a friendly hand, an embrace. The only flesh I touched now was the burning skin of my victims, taken in swift force. I felt such love for my dear Uncle, who had given me so much; if only I could have taken his hand that first day. If only he could have held me in those first frightening months, when my new world had felt so large and I had curled into a childish ball, weeping while he looked on, chattering helpless words of comfort. If only I could feel my mother's hand upon my hair again, smoothing away my headache and loving me with her grey eyes.

But I was not without friendship. Despite the isolation of my body, and once the first fears had passed, I easily grew to love the world that Uncle had brought me into. We spent many happy days in the wilderness, since my will was too weak to be near humanity. He taught me the names of all the birds and beasts and trees and flowers. He told me stories of his wide travels. He brought me dresses that were far more comfortable and sensible than anything I had worn before. I took over the sewing, at which he rejoiced, and in turn he began to teach me some of the languages he had learned. I sang for him, and for the birds that delighted in the silvery music of my new voice. They would always wheel toward me out of the sky as I sang, dancing in circles on the breeze while I watched in rapture.

Sometimes we would go entire days without speech, for Uncle was very much like me, preferring the quiet of creation to the chatter of conversation. Sometimes I would stand on a hillock or treetop, frozen in statuesque wonder at the very colors of the world around me. They seemed so much more beautiful than before. The rich blueness of the sky lifted my heart in wordless joy. The green meadows and fields were so lush and bright, their beauty pierced my heart. Once I abandoned the world so long, enraptured in the soft yellow of a crocus, that Uncle was obliged to shout my name until I woke from my reverie. I spent entire days in silence and stillness, watching the creatures around me go about their little animal lives.

I wondered, sometimes, whether the animals were not repelled by me. They were afraid of me, to be sure, but they were equally afraid of Uncle; he said that all animals feared our kind, since they could smell our strangeness. They scattered just as energetically when either of us approached. But when I sat very still for hours or days, they would wander closer and examine me with their snuffly, whiskery noses, so close I thought I might reach out and touch them. As with all vampires, any movement on my part scared them out of their wits, and they fled. But when they did wander close, it was far closer than I could get to any person. Now I longed to stroke their warm fur, to trace the bumpy scales of a lizard. To feel anything that was alive... that was not dying in my hands. Even a friendly peck from one of my mischievous songbirds would have been welcome.

And then one day, a great miracle was given to me. I was watching a family of rabbits scrounge for their breakfast in a field of wild strawberries, when one of the babies wandered closer to me. I had my hand outstretched on the dirt. He wiggled his soft nose upon the ground, tracing zany patterns in the dirt until he came upon my fingers. He grew very still for a moment, and then with joy I felt his tiny paws tread on the back of my hand. I bit my lips to hold in my delighted laughter as his whiskers tickled me. I dared to lift my fingers an inch. His baby-fur was so very soft! And his little heart thrummed so fast I wondered whether a human could have distinguished the beats. I felt so blessedly alive in that moment, to touch another living thing. It was brief; either he lost interest in the statue he had stumbled upon, or his mother had let out some silent rabbit-scolding, and he drifted away to pursue the strawberries again. I nearly was overcome with gratitude, and Uncle rejoiced as well. I knew he felt responsible for what my gift had done to me.

It happened occasionally from then on, though only with small animals, and usually only the babies. Perhaps their fearful instinct was not yet grown? But the larger truth was so very comforting: that whatever had caused my gift to isolate me, it did not isolate me from all of God's creation. And in my heart of hearts, I knew this meant that I, too, was still a part of that creation. I supposed my immortal soul mattered little now, but the thought still warmed me.

And I was given another miracle: the number of beads left on my rosary was exactly the number of the family that I had left behind. Once my mind was settled from its early madness, I took hold of the solemn duty I had been reborn into. I prayed faithfully for them, and when I was ready by the spring equinox of the third year since my change, Uncle took me home.

I touched the familiar trees with what would have been tearful relief, if my eyes could have made those tears. I felt a great longing to run straight into the house and throw my arms around Mother and tell her all my troubles and all my adventures. But I was old enough now to restrain myself, and to understand that my greatest duty was to guard those I loved most... even from myself.

After spending a quiet evening in the woods where I had spent my childhood, we circled around the estate to the altar. When the moon rose, a delicious smell drifted towards us, accompanied by the crunch of footsteps.

"Are you ready?" Uncle asked me. I nodded, watching the clearing intently.

And there she was. My heart burst to see my Mother again. She looked well. There were a few more gray hairs, and with my new eyes I could see all the signs of middle age that had marked her creamy skin... but there were no bruises now. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks rosy with health... and clinging to her hand, my infant brother was now a stout little man toddling at her side.

"How he has grown!" I said happily. Uncle shushed me, but nodded with his own doting smile. We watched as she spread the flowers upon the altar. And now came the most severe test of all: I held my breath and looked away as she dripped some of her blood onto the flowers. We had prepared for this moment, since Uncle knew he would be unable to restrain me, but I passed the test.

"Great Uncle," Mother began, but she stopped. Her nostrils widened and she breathed in the evening air, closing her eyes. "And... Renata, darling?" she said, her voice climbing an octave in eagerness. "Are you there as well?"

"Do you think she heard me?" I whispered to Uncle. He shook his head.

"She has always been a curious one," he whispered back. "She has senses that the others do not have."

"My dear," Mother called out again, a trembling smile dawning on her lovely face. She touched her own hair absentmindedly, stroking it the way she always had done with me. "I pray for you always," she spoke to the woods, looking around as if I would appear. That, not the blood, was the moment of my greatest temptation. I inched forward.

"No, Renata," Uncle said, with a sternness I had never heard before. "We must never show ourselves."

"I would not hurt her," I whispered back, beginning to cry. "I could never hurt her."

"You know the Law, dearest."

But surely this-"

"No."

He was right; the temptation passed quickly as I forced myself to think of what could happen. Uncle had told me stories of the Volturi, the great lords who ruled our kind. Their chief purpose was to protect us all by ensuring that the secret was kept, and they were ruthless in their justice upon this one Law. When a vampire revealed himself, they not only destroyed the criminal, but also any human souls who had been witness to the secret's telling. Sometimes the vampire's entire coven paid the price for the crime, especially the creator who had failed to control his offspring. Even if I cared nothing for my own life, I could never endanger my mother or Uncle with such foolishness.

Mother prattled on, sometimes speaking to me, sometimes to Uncle. She told us little stories of what had passed since Uncle's last visit. All was well, she said, save for a blight on the orchard that had ruined last year's yield. My brother was a strong and willful child, and did not want to stand still while Mother spoke to invisible people. Uncle and I had to smother our laughter when he began to eat the white flowers from the altar. A few moments later he insisted on climbing one of the trees, and finally Mother gave it up, biding us farewell and saying she would come to do us honor in the autumn.

"And all my love to you, Renata," she said, blowing a kiss off in the wrong direction. "Uncle... I know you will always look after my girl."

"Indeed I shall," he said softly as he watched her turn to leave. We watched as she returned to the house, finally answering my brothers' lisping questions about why she had been talking to the trees.

"What now?" I asked.

"I like to stay for a few days each time, just to watch everyone and see if there is anything to be done for them. I often spend the summers here; this was my home, too, you know. It gives me a great peace to see my descendants thriving... to watch the children play." He smiled fondly at me. "Sometimes I find someone special."

"I love you, Uncle," I said from the bottom of my heart. I would have embraced him if I could, and I was sure he knew it. We were kindred spirits, and the eternity that stretched before us was a warm one. He had promised to take me travelling after our visit here, and I was brimming with excitement.

We decided to first see if there was anything to be done about the orchard blight. The trees did indeed look sickly, their bark studded with tiny holes and missing in patches. Dozens of trees were already dead.

"But what can we do?" I wondered, peeling away a chunk of ruined bark. "We are powerless against disease. What a shame... I always loved these orchards."

Uncle picked up the bark I had discarded. "Look closer," he instructed, turning it over. I peered into the holes, which were really little tunnels, and found them crawling with frantic little beetles. One by one they escaped the fragment, flying to get away from the marble fingers which grasped their home.

And so for once, the revulsion that the animal world felt for us was a blessing. We laid our scents heavily on the trees, digging our fingers down among the roots, exhaling our sweet breath into every crack and hole. The beetles fled by the thousands. Once the orchard was cleansed, we painted an invisible barrier of venom on the ground along the borders. After a few days' vigil we felt sure we had done all we could, and set off on our travels.

"Why the bloodletting?" I asked one day, as we explored the ruins of an ancient fortress in Egypt. "At the altar, I mean. If the blood is a temptation to us, how did our family come to observe such a perilous ritual?"

Uncle did not answer right away. Grief clouded his red eyes, and he kept climbing up the jagged wall that we were on. We crested the top and sat in silence for a while, breathless at the view around us: miles and miles of human civilization, both ancient and modern, surrounded by a golden sea of sand. The sunrise illuminated the scene, and us as well.

"It was a child," Uncle began, and I was surprised to hear his strong voice strained with a sudden despair. "I was too young," he went on, "I should not have gone back so soon. I only wanted to see my family again. I was watching one my little brothers as he played in the garden. He fell and scraped his knee..." He squeezed his eyes closed, frozen in the torment of his memories. It was the first time I had ever seen him look like the old man he was.

"I am so sorry," I breathed, wishing so badly I could wrap him in my arms. I could only sit with him in silence as the sun crawled across the sky.

"I had no choice," he finally choked out as it was setting. "I could not leave the body for them to find. But there was so little time, his nurse was calling for him... I cleaned the stones, but some blood was left behind for her to discover." He waved his arm, staring out at the desert. "Somehow, that turned into the ritual you see now. So... that is one reason I have stayed."

"It is your penance?"

He smiled sadly. "It is my privilege. If all it had ever brought me is you, dearest girl, I would count my service well worth it." I returned his grateful smile, patting the stone between us. It had become our habit to show affection this way, since we could never touch.

I knew that I was not the only one of our family that Uncle had changed, and now I had the chance to meet one of my immortal cousins. Lucia was a wanderer, but we chanced to cross her scent in one of her favorite hiding places in Nubia. I felt shy upon meeting her, but she was kind. And it was so curious how she had been named for Uncle Luca, and also resembled him so closely.

"It is no coincidence," Luca told me after we had left her. "I learned on one of my visits that the wife of one of my grand-nephews had been terribly ill while heavy with child, and he feared for both their lives. He prayed to me for ten days straight to spare their lives, promising to name the child for me and, when she did not improve, that he would deliver it to me when it was grown. Both mother and child were healed then- and I had missed the entire thing! There would have been nothing for me to do if I was there. But the daughter was born lame, and so I think they were relieved when the time came for her deliverance. And she, like you, was happily surprised with the cures that her new life brought her. She never wanted to join me in watching over the Patronii; while she is happy now, she is embittered that she was given away, you see. But we remain friends, and greet one another from time to time."

We met other friends. There was ebullient Ahmed, and two more of my cousins, Jerome and Blanca. There was Motu, a grand vampress in the southern expanse of Africa, tall and bedecked with jewels, who gave us a tour of her territory among the Tonga people. Upon our return north, we visited the ruined palace of Amun, a vampire who had once lived as a god as part of the ancient Egyptian Coven. I found my first real friend in his mate and former queen, Kebi, in whom I found another kindred spirit. She was so very quiet, and I was always shy when meeting Uncle's friends, and so we spent many a peaceable hour in her subterranean gardens. She had an alarming story to tell, and I wondered whether she was at all happy with her mate, but we had a pleasant time together.

Amun was sad. He spoke forcefully and almost constantly, as if to make up for his mate's silence, and he poured out his grievances upon us. He had made himself a son in recent years, he told us, and at first young Demetri had brought great joy into his life. "And showed such promise," he added with a gleam in his eye. But the young man had proved faithless, leaving him one day without even saying goodbye.

"He has gone to join them," Amun spat. "The Volturi." His restless eyes settled on me, and I shrank back. "They may take her too," he said in ominous warning.

"Perhaps we should discuss other matters," Uncle said quickly, and the conversation drifted to less frightening topics.

Uncle seemed preoccupied after our visit with Amun. When I questioned him about Amun's warning he assured me that Amun was a bitter old man whose words should not be taken seriously. I was not reassured, and wondered if we should put more distance between ourselves and the Volturi. But we were due back home for the equinox, and were happy to discover that our unorthodox cure had indeed rescued the orchard. Mother was very grateful, and happy- if a little nervous- to find the gifts we had laid on the altar from our travels.

"It gives them great comfort to have me," Uncle told me as we travelled north this time. "To have us," he corrected himself with a smile. "But they can get uncomfortable when they see too much evidence. It's best when we pause somewhere between protector and myth. Do you..." He paused our walking. "You know that you are of course free, Renata, to do as you wish? That you do not have to stay and guard the family with me, or travel with me?"

"I know," I assured him, lovingly laying a hand on the tree between us. "But I am so very happy, Uncle. I have no wish to leave you, or to leave our family."

We spent fifteen happy years together. We travelled to the ends of the earth, following the trade routes to the mysterious lands of the East. We observed the strange ways of the Scandinavians, and even followed a longboat when it went viking. One year, we swam to the Southern edge of the world.

"We shall fall off the end!" I screamed as our bodies were tossed like rag dolls in the frigid waves. Uncle just laughed and floated without a care in the world, and we soon found ourselves standing amid a winter wonderland. There were strange birds there that could not even fly. I saw many of my favorite animals, but all dressed in white coats.

Whenever we could, we returned home for the equinoxes. When things looked dangerous- for Malta lay in the path of the crusaders which sometimes came and went- we stayed at home, enjoying our family and keeping them safe from troubles great and small. The only heartbreak was when Mother was laid to rest in the family graveyard. I stood vigil over her grave for a fortnight without feeding, and then let Uncle convince me to come away. I carried my grief with me, but it was soothed by the sight of my little brother, now grown to manhood. I had heard my aunts- now quite elderly but as helpful as ever with their gossip- discussing arrangements for his marriage. I renewed my vow to watch over him and all the others forever.

But it was that same year that my life changed course. We were swimming offshore of Portugal, looking for whales, when Uncle spotted a lone figure standing on the edge of the highest cliff. We could not see who he was from the great distance, but after several hours we noticed he had not moved. A wind stirred over the waves and swirled up the cliff, billowing the man's long cloak out against the sky like a flag.