[ THE HUMAN CONDITION ]
Chapter XVII: The Volturi
❝ Evil is a point of view. We are immortal. And what we have before us are the rich feasts that conscience cannot appreciate and mortal men cannot know without regret. God kills, and so shall we; indiscriminately He takes the richest and the poorest, and so shall we; for no creatures under God are as we are, none so like Him as ourselves, dark angels not confined to the stinking limits of hell but wandering His earth and all its kingdoms.❞
Anne Rice, Interview with a Vampire
I DIDN'T FREAK OUT until we were walking into the airport and I realized three things.
One, I didn't see my car in the parking lot.
Two, I had to get my wallet.
And three, I didn't have a fucking passport.
"Shit," I mumbled. If I weren't in public I would have swore like a sailor; a single swear would have to suffice.
Alice glanced over, but Bella hadn't heard me over the murmur of airport occupants. "What's wrong?" the angelic vampire asked.
"I don't have a passport," I said. That was my biggest issue: the car and wallet were secondary priorities. I'd worry about them as they came up. "Remember? I'm so fucked."
I mentioned this before we even got on the road. I assumed we'd figure out a solution before reaching the airport. After we pulled out I became absorbed in my worries about Dad and what we'd find after arriving in Italy. Alice was just as distracted from Bella's friendly interrogation. Now I was paying the price. Maybe I'd end up having to show Alice and Bella a picture of Dad and hope they could locate him at some point while hunting down Edward—
"Shit," Alice said, mirroring my previous assertion. I squinted at her closely, inquiringly, wondering if the curse was in response to me reminding her of my lack of country-jumping credentials, but she wasn't even looking at me. Her nostrils flared imperceptibly, and her gaze was locked on something behind me. Out of curiosity I turned.
Someone, not something. She was staring at a man out of dozens crowding the entrance. A man who looked too gorgeous, too faultless, too entirely fucking textbook perfect to be human. I knew without having to inquire using Alice's enhanced senses that he wasn't human; this was obviously the root of the issue. Why she looked so alarmed.
He was unusually tall, his head visible through the crowd of ordinaries, and wearing something straight out of The Matrix or the poster of some action film, at least. He had on a jet black trench coat with equally dark slacks and a collared shirt that complemented his lacking color palette. From this distance I could see he had hair the color of burnt umber, sticking to his forehead because of the rain outside, and eyes a startling black. Black like ash residue, black like charcoal. My thoughts went in circles trying to figure out why.
He's hungry, I realized belatedly. If Arcus were here he'd tell me to keep to open public spaces and never let my guard down. The fascination he had with vampires when he was alive didn't translate to his existence in the afterlife. He was a smart cookie—and I'd try following in example instead of dooming myself to the same fate. Try being the key word.
The man was looking right at us. Me, in particular. I returned his gaze with as much conviction as I could muster, refusing to back down and seem like a coward with her tail tucked between her legs. I wasn't afraid of him. Wary, yes—but afraid? I wouldn't let my fear control me anymore. All it did was get me into trouble.
The man looked to his left and then his right. When he began walking towards us, I could literally sense Bella's unease. She seemed to cower into Alice. At least I'd look the least pitiful to this God-knows-how-old vampire. But my head was a different story, ranging from worries about this guy cutting my life short regardless of where we were to questions of what motivations he had. He knew Alice was immortal. Why did he seem so focused on me?
I got my answer when the man came to a stop in front of us.
"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. It's awful hard to tune noise out in places like this—I never had to bother with blending into the human world until recently," the man began. His words were eloquent and his voice was deep and hoarse, noticeably like my father's. I also noticed, in surprise, that he was British. He looked between me and Alice, ignoring Bella entirely. He settled those bottomless pit eyes on me after his apparent evaluation. Two mortals and a tiny vampire? He could easily overpower us. "I hope you can forgive me. You said you didn't have a passport?"
"Uh, yeah," I said. I was calm on the outside, but on the inside my mind was berserk, going completely fucking haywire. He didn't give off the "I'm going to eat you" vibe, sure. He looked civilized and he didn't seem like he had any particular problems handling being in the presence of two mortals. Did that make me any less nervous? N-O with two capitals. "And it's totally fine, I get it. I'd eavesdrop too if I had supernatural hearing."
Bella kicked my leg, and I shot her a sharp glare. People in Seattle didn't give a single fuck; I could announce I was an alien and nobody would spare me the time of day. What had her panties in a twist? Potentially my sunny personality shining through around someone who shied from the sun—both literally and figuratively. I could understand her logic there.
The man completely ignored our minor, immaterial spat and smiled. Damn, his teeth were white-white. "I have a talent that may help you."
I knew instantly what he meant by talent.
"I'm listening."
His smile widened, if that were even possible. I watched with absolute shock as he reached into the inside of his coat and pulled out a small, blue-colored container that indented at the middle, shaping two circles. He popped it open and pressed his finger into one of the compartments. When it emerged, I saw absolutely nothing until I looked closer and realized it was a contact lens. A green contact lens. He winked at me before tipping his head, widening one of his eyes unbelievably wide and gently pressing the lens onto it.
"Why did you wait until now to do this?" Alice asked in a demanding tone.
The man didn't respond until after he dipped his finger in the case and applied the second lens to his other eye. Then he looked at Alice, blinking, eyes not watering at all. "As your mortal friend said, humans in Seattle do not care. I feel like I can do as I please when I please. Ever have that feeling?"
Alice shook her head, looking perplexed.
I smiled without meaning to, feeling intrigued beyond what I thought myself capable of. "Yes. So what's your gift?"
He jerked his head over at the checkpoint area, where multiple lines were formed with a woman heading each counter. "Follow me."
I didn't need to be told twice. The guy was so damn charming. And he was the most interesting, eccentric character I'd met since Roman.
We got in line. My body thrummed with trivial and insignificant questions alike, previous woes all but forgotten.
"Okay, what's your name?" I asked him when it appeared he wasn't going to initiate a conversation any time soon. "I'm just calling you 'guy' and 'man' in my head."
He looked over his shoulder at me. "Cade Ambrose."
"'Cade Ambrose'," I repeated. "Damn, I wish my Dad gave me a cool name like that."
"What is your name?" Cade turned his head back to face where the line was slowly disintegrating. Call it a fatal flaw, but I was presumptuous, so I took a step closer—wanting to keep this conversation flowing faster than a flooded river.
I rocked back and forth on my boots. "Alissa Cameron."
"And the names of your friends?"
"Well, the anxious one's name is Isabella Swan and the—prickly one's name is Alice Cullen."
I could almost feel Bella's glare on the back of my head for using the name printed on her birth certificate.
"Cullen?" Cade looked over again, narrowing his eyes at Alice particularly. "I wouldn't suppose you know Carlisle, then."
"Yes, he's my foster father," Alice said, emphasizing Carlisle's affiliation to her. Apparently she wasn't as unphased by the human populace as I was; she was keeping up a guise. I found her overboard caution hilarious. "Why? Are you a friend of his?"
"You could say that," Cade said quietly. The line moved up one family, and we all walked forward a few steps. Bella stepped on my fucking shoe. "He's a household name in Volterra."
"Volterra?" I muttered, confused.
"Volterra?" Alice hissed.
Cade smiled a grim smile. "We'll talk on the plane. For now, I'd like to listen in on airport gossip."
That was his kind way of telling us he didn't want to be interrogated until he was comfortably situated. Standing wasn't comfortable.
We remained in silence the rest of the unbearable wait. It was a long process, and I didn't have "airport gossip" to occupy myself with, unless you counted the idiot family behind us that wouldn't stop bickering about one of the kids forgetting their socks and their ID they used to take the February ACT. About nine groups later we finally arrived at the front, and Cade looked back to wink at us. Then he looked at the lady sitting at the counter. She was almost pretty, her brunette hair honeyed with streaks of caramel brown and almond eyes a startling black, but the jittery way she held herself was disturbing, to say the least.
"Hi, ma'am," Cade said in a perfect imitation of an American accent—like one you'd hear in California. I could feel my eyebrows raise and my mouth cinch into a purse. "I need a ticket for Atlanta."
"A ticket? But—" The lady stopped abruptly, the irises of her eyes seeming to blacken for a moment. "Oh. Okay. Will that be four tickets?"
There was no one else listening to us, no other workers but the woman in front of us working this line. The other check-in attendants were preoccupied with their own vying passengers. I had to admit—I didn't think this was standard check-in procedure. Cade was doing something to the woman's head.
"Command telepathy," Alice muttered from behind me.
That's fucking cool, I thought. An involuntary grin slid onto my mouth. Way less scary than mind illusions. Wait, isn't that Roman's power? Mind control?
I genuinely couldn't remember. Roman's power was something to do with minds. He used it to dazzle and impress his audiences. I'd have to ask for specifics when I saw him again.
Shaking my head, I focused back on the conversation taking place in front of me.
The lady handed Cade four plane tickets after they were printed out. She hadn't even asked for his identification. "Here you are, sir. That will be Flight AA1470, and it leaves at 12:28 A.M. Security is to your right, and they'll point you in the direction of the luggage drop-off point. Any personal bags you want to have with you during the flight will need passed through our security screening, so just hand those over and you'll have them back before you board."
Hearing the lady's instructions, I quickly handed her my bag, Alice and Bella doing the same. We all packed light. Cade didn't have a single thing with him, except for whatever the hell was in his coat.
The lady dismissed us with a cheery smile and a "Safe travels!" A personality change from the blatant anxiety before.
When we were far enough away I looked over at Cade. There was already a smirk tugging at my lips. "You don't have an ID either, do you?"
His face didn't drop a single hint about what he was feeling. "Perhaps not," he said.
I nodded, feeling my heart race. Things were happening fast. I was so not ready to see what laid in wait for me over the ocean line, an event I wouldn't see unfold until we caught our final flight in Atlanta, but it wasn't time to deliberate those fears or let them simmer like stir-fry. Cade just cut the process in half, my worries in two, and now I was that much closer to being on a plane for the first time. Closer to the real adventure: saving my Dad.
Cade had the same destination, and the part of me still warring about whether I could trust him wondered if he was a docile nobody like Dakota. A worker bee, a recruiter, a somebody to a cult of killers. A servant to an ensemble of masters. Alice's suspicion radiated off her like sweat. Bella's anxiety fit her tight like a glove. And me, well I obviously didn't know what to think. I wanted to be optimistic and hope he was a nomad who had business in Volterra.
That was very unlikely.
I thought about it all through security and Cade's manipulation of the guard detail; apparently he had something on him that would make the metal detector rage into a ding-ding-ding stupor. I thought about it when I picked my wallet up from the suspicious man at the luggage drop-off; Cade helped make the man ease up on his interrogation. All ten bucks I owned were still in it, as well as my ID and several crumbled-up grocery store receipts. I thought about it when we boarded our flight. I thought about it when I took my seat next to a woman with her shoes off who smelt like she had athlete's foot—and forgot about it momentarily when Cade, sensing my discomfort, telepathically commanded the woman to switch seats with him.
Alone with the vampire, I didn't know what to think or how to approach the situation. Alice and Bella were sitting in the two seats in front of us; they'd hear if he did something, but I still felt uneasy. Stranger danger and all that.
Apparently I wasn't the only one who hated sitting in silence.
"It's unwise going to Volterra as a human. You either become one of the cultists or a servant to the guard," he said finally. He had his glare firmly situated on where my legs kept fidgeting; I knew I was annoying him. Not like I had any choice in the mannerism. He was hyper-vigilant, and I was nervous as fuck. I tended to move like a trapped rabbit in public situations like this. It's why I didn't leave La Push much.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, recoiling back at the sight that greeted me. His eyes were black again.
He smiled when I failed to dignify his statement with a response. The smile didn't make him any less intimidating. "Oh, my contacts disintegrated. It's alright; I'll pretend to sleep if you're worried about other passengers noticing." He sounded amused—and almost patronizing.
"No need," I said. "And yeah, thanks for the warning. I'm aware I'll probably die. My, uh, Dad traveled there. I have no idea how to explain that to you. You'll think I had a fever dream or something."
"Oh?" Cade leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs. We were close enough that I'd smell his breath if he were actually human. You think I'd at least smell the hint of an evening antelope buffet... "Color me intrigued."
Preparing what I'd say, I leaned even closer, feeling nothing from his presence to indicate there was a stream of blood flowing through his veins—just a subzero cold that wrapped me in silk, reminding me where I was hours ago. Half-dead—afraid. Delirious. "Okay, so basically, I'm not entirely human. I'm an emissary. You know what those are? Wait, probably not."
Cade smiled, and he looked like he was biting back a laugh. "I sensed something off in you when I first saw you all in the airport. Now emissaries, I'm not entirely confident in my knowledge of those. Would you run through the basics for me?"
"Yeah, sure. So, it's like an advisor. A pseudo-advisor. I'm Native-American, and I come from the Quileute reservation—in La Push, if you know it. Washington, obviously. Emissaries for us are helpers and defenders of the Tribe. My Dad's the formal Emissary, but I'm in the progress of being trained to take his place someday. Not by him, though. He's gone crazy these past few weeks."
"Crazy? How so?"
I tugged my hoodie up, then peeled off my undershirt that was sticking to my stomach from sweat, exposing the bruises underneath.
Cade's seat creaked as he shifted away, his eyelids disappearing. "That's domestic abuse, Alissa. Shouldn't you be glad he fled the coop?"
"It's not him!" I nearly shouted. Contrary to my earlier declaration that people in Seattle—tourists or not—"didn't care", everyone glanced in our direction. I shrunk back under the scrutiny. Cade's face was etched with a mix of bewilderment and laughter the entire time. "Shit. I didn't mean to be so loud. Anyway, he's been possessed, Cade. Not by a spirit or anything. Well, sorta. Before the weird change in personality happened we ended up having to do this ritual/extraction thing, and my Dad got the memories of the guy we were extracting them from. Okay. Uh, I just realized that made zero sense."
Cade's stare was unwavering. "Was it a human you 'extracted' memories from?"
"No, it was a vampire." I probably should have been more thorough and mentioned the shifters, but honestly, I didn't know if I'd spontaneously combust by spilling the tribe secrets to a strange nomad vampire. Maybe Sam took a blood sample in my sleep when I was knocked out after forcing Jared to shift, and now I was under blood obligations not to tell outsiders about inside business. Okay, bit of an exaggeration. Still—was it wise to tell Cade something that had nothing to do with me? I had to be careful and tread lightly. Spill only what was relevant to me.
"Who?" Cade sat up straight, seeming much more attentive than he was ten seconds ago.
"The vampire? Dakota... something," I said. I bet Roman doesn't even know his surname.
"Dakota? Dakota—the Volturi's main scout? That actually makes sense." Cade looked down at his lap, then back up at me. "His features have always been less Europeanistic than his keepers."
"The crazy in him transferred to my Dad, and the crazy in Dakota was entirely devoted to the Volturi," I informed Cade glumly. "Dakota's here in Seattle, actually."
"From what I know of Dakota, he's ruthless," Cade said with a frown. Oh, there it was, what I'd been waiting for—condescension. "Are you sure he's fine to roam around?"
"He's supervised, it's fine," I said, dragging out the "fine".
As Cade was opening his mouth, undoubtedly to question who the supervisor was, the plane began to move. A voice came over the intercom that I resolutely tuned out.
Cade glanced over at the flight attendant wandering the aisle and offering refreshments, now chatting to Alice and Bella. His eyes were like two blackholes when he turned his attention back to me. "Who's his supervisor, if I may ask?"
"Roman Hamilton. He's awesome."
"Ah, the magician," Cade said. He raised a finger to his mouth, and I watched in repulsion as one of his fangs elongated from his gums, seeming to gnaw on his pinkie. "I attended his last show, actually. I'm immune to his talents so it wasn't as entertaining as I would have liked. You'd enjoy it."
I raised my eyebrows. This man took haughty to a whole other level of arrogance. "Are you calling me dimwitted?"
"No, I'm saying Roman relies on powerless human minds that wouldn't tell the difference between personal thoughts and a separate consciousness lingering in the back controlling their intentions," Cade said. Okay, maybe it wasn't arrogance I sensed. He certainly seemed exhausted with immortality, though.
I sat up and situated myself again. The plane was rising into the air and I was trying to use any excuse I could think of to help terminate my fear of what would happen if we crashed. "Wanna try something on me?"
Cade leaned away from me, his eyes flickering to the aisle, like he was regretting saving me from a flight of slow suffocation via athlete's foot. "Not particularly."
"I'm just bored," I said and unceremoniously flopped back into my seat.
"Take a nap."
"I'm too anxious to sleep," I said, glancing over at him. His smug mug was almost too pretty to look at.
"What if I let you use my mp3?" he offered, fishing it out from one of the pockets in his coat. He held the mp3 up, in all its glory, unveiling its shiny black coat and matching earbuds. I eyed it. "A lot of the music on it is recent. I'm not sure if you could tell, but I'm not that old. Old enough to be your father, I suppose."
I peered at him now, wondering if I could guess his age. "You look like you were turned in your twenties. Am I right?"
He nodded. "I'm twenty-two. And I was turned in 1990. So I'd be—"
"Thirty-eight in human years," I finished. "Wow, that's recent. Are you vegetarian?"
"This may sound nonsensible, but not entirely," Cade said; I could both see and hear the shame. His hand holding the mp3 fell into his lap. "I have a tendency to relapse every few months. It doesn't help that my mate is a- uh, nurse and always comes home reeking of human fluids—"
"You have a mate?" I felt myself tense, and I had to physically contort my body back into the armrest beside me to avoid lurching at him. Finally, something not totally fucking mind-numbingly boring. "Why's she not with you? Physically, I mean."
"Oh, she hates traveling," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "We're alike in that way. It was imperative one of us come here, though, so after hours of useless arguing, I decided she was the one with dut—the career and I was the, er, hermit."
I smiled. "What's her name?"
Cade dropped the mp3 into his lap, his marble face turning tense in thought. He hunched his back, one of his hands going into a pocket in his trench coat and nosily fishing. After a few seconds it retracted to reveal a picture. He wordlessly held it out to me.
Tentatively I took it, noticing the back was facing up. Words were written in bold, swirly green print:
To my forever, happy 21st.
- Wind, 16/9/89
I flipped it over. The picture was of Cade, looking totally and completely human, and a girl who was ethereal. She wasn't human here—but Cade shockingly was. She had dark brown hair, amber eyes, and lightly tanned skin that glistened like it was naturally wet. They were both dressed to the nines and grinning like they were the happiest creatures in existence. My own mouth curved up; their happiness was contagious. I wondered, though, why she deemed him her "forever" when he was obviously alive in the photo. I was dying to ask, but... I'd save my questions for another day. He wouldn't leave without us trading contacts, and I had theories to sate me until then.
"She's gorgeous," I said finally, looking over at Cade. He was staring at the picture with a smile of his own. I handed it over and he traded, pushing the mp3 into my palms. "Wait, you never told me what songs were on it."
"I love music, and I keep my playlists updated," Cade said, shrugging at my perplexed expression. "You'll find something you enjoy on there, I promise."
"Yeah, alright," I said. I remembered how to work one of these things from Kallie's old one she destroyed by dropping it into a toilet; this one was an older model, though. From 2003 at most. I pressed the side power button, keeping pressure on it for five seconds, until the screen seared a blinding white. I grinned when the song that immediately began playing was 'Somebody Told Me' by The Killers. I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, that's not trash. I was expecting trash."
Cade rolled his eyes, but it was barely noticeable because his irises were swollen black. I rolled my eyes back. I popped the earbuds in and concentrated on the music.
The bass helped lull me to sleep, and even the next song being 'Let's Get It Started' by The Black Eyed Peas didn't deter the darkness as it swept me away.
Hours later and after I was already woken once to switch airlines, I was roughly—rudely shaken awake. Again. The mp3 Cade gave me was now dead, but the earbuds were hanging from my ears, cottoning the sound of miscellaneous murmurs from nearby irrelevant passengers.
Cade was staring right at me when I blinked the crust out of my eyes. He motioned towards the window. Maybe we had reached our destination; now that I was awake, it certainly felt like our airplane had landed. Catching his drift, I leaned my tender body over toward the side of the plane and looked out. We were flightless. I could see nothing but blues and grays.
I returned to sitting in my seat, pulling out the earphones and fidgeting with the player. I reached it all back over to Cade. "Thanks," I said hoarsely.
"No problem," he said. His cold fingers touched mine as he took the mp3 player out of my grip. "We're in Florence."
So we still weren't where we needed to be. I hadn't listened to where our flight was landing, really; I'd been too busy speculating about Cade and his intentions. And taking a second, much-unneeded nap. This was unfortunate.
I squinted. "How far is that from this Volterra place?"
"About an hour and a half, maybe less," Cade said, shrugging. "By car that is."
"Shit," I said. "I have, like, ten bucks to my name, you know. I got it from a bet me and my friend shared—"
I felt my phone buzz in my hoodie pocket, tickling my abdomen. I completely forgot it even existed; I didn't even know I could get service here, half a globe away. I'd certainly pay the price later in regards to phone bills if I decided to answer. Holding a finger up to Cade, I slipped it out and blinked at the caller ID. Paul.
Shit, fuck, baloney.
I decided not to hold off the inevitable or care about bills for the time being, so I pressed the green icon.
"Alissa?" Paul's voice came over the receiver, irate, loud, and unreasonably sexy. It was early morning where he was. "I've been trying to reach you for hours—where the fuck are you?"
"Paul, hey," I said quietly, feeling Cade's inquiring stare on my temple. "Before you go ape-shit, just know this was the only option. We landed in Florence less than, like, five minutes ago so I should be on a plane heading home sometime today. Not sure exactly yet."
"Alissa, Jacob told us everything," Paul said. He sounded exhausted—like he didn't get any sleep the night before. I felt guilty, realizing it was probably me who caused it. Not sleeping was uncharacteristic of him. "He told us about you almost drowning and why you were at the beach in the first place. And I, I can't stop fucking thinking about it. I had a dream of you drowning, Lis."
I clenched my eyes shut, hearing someone come over the plane intercom. I vaguely caught the woman instructing passengers to exit. Flight attendants were gracelessly hurrying down the aisle. I hastily got my bag, keeping my phone tucked between my head and my shoulder. Cade was already standing. I had to hurriedly tug off my seatbelt, all while thinking over what to say that would make Paul feel better—knowing that was a futile endeavor, given I was thousands of miles away.
"I'm sorry, Paul. I'm sorry we left without talking and I'm sorry you had some fucked up bad dream about me," I said forcefully, my voice shaking. I swallowed. "I'm going to be okay, alright? I've been learning from my grandfather. I'm not totally defenseless. I wouldn't have come here if I knew I was going to end up dead."
"I can't help but worry. Maybe you're not defenseless, but you're just as hotheaded as me. That's a weakness all on its own," Paul said. He sounded slightly less upset, and the residue of a laugh followed his comment. "I don't want to lose you."
"You won't lose me," I said, but it was a statement without conviction; I had no way of knowing the future. Out of the blue I tripped over air, catching myself on one of the empty seats. "Shit, ow. Sorry, I almost fell."
Continuing along like nothing happened, I heard Paul suck in a deep breath of air. "I fucking hate this. I didn't hate it at first, but it's going to fuck up our relationship, Lis. This whole shifting shit is ridiculous. Sam made me come back to his place immediately after school yesterday. Then Harry had a heart attack, so we had to go over to the Clearwaters, help Sue out, and Leah and Seth shifted—"
"Wait, they shifted? Jacob didn't tell me that." Of course Jacob left out imperative information like new shifters—it was me, after all. I was never told anything. "Is Harry all right?"
Paul paused. I could feel him hesitate to answer. "No, he didn't make it. Sue's been unsure about having the funeral without you here, or your Dad, but it's hard for her to put things on hold. Leah's a fucking mess, doesn't help she's got Sam tailing her ass—Seth isn't doing so hot either."
"Things have been progressively going to shit," I muttered, hopping off the plane steps and having to latch onto Cade's arm to avoid falling into him. He glanced at me but didn't say anything; I appreciated his silence. "I know you're worried because you think life's fucked and it's only going to get worse, but I promise I'm going to be careful. Paul, I know we haven't said it, and I'd prefer outright saying it when I get back, but I care deeply for you. You're my rock. I've been miserable these past few days being in a spat with you. You don't deserve me lying and deceiving you. I don't plan on doing it again, unless it's something so damn embarrassing I can't afford telling it to anybody. The lying- it was supposed to be behind us—ancient history, ya know? Instead I'm here doing it every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday like it's a fucking game..."
"I'm the one who fucked up," Paul said firmly, interrupting me before I could go into a self-hating tirade. "I don't think I'll stop worrying until you're home. You better come home in one piece, Cameron, or I'll kick your ass."
"Got it, Commander Lahottie," I whispered with a smirk, seeing Alice and Bella up ahead, looking over at me and motioning for me to join them. We were out in public again, and I was sure it wasn't standard protocol to be on a phone call while exiting a plane. Whatever. What were they going to do—arrest me? Ugh, big fucking whatever. The girls were staring, obviously waiting to talk details with me in earshot. I was about to head over when Cade came to a sudden halt, his body obscuring Alice and Bella's figures. He turned to look at me. I frowned. "What?"
"What do you mean 'what'?" Paul asked.
"I gotta go, Paul. I'll call you when I get on the plane," I said, knowing I wasn't doing a good job at concealing my anxiety. Cade's face was unfriendly, and there was no one behind me to warrant such newfound hostility. "Bye."
"Alissa, wait—"
I hung up before he could compel me to keep him dialed the entire time. He'll understand later when I tell him Dad hasn't paid a phone bill since the beginning of January...
"There's someone here. Possibly someone who was notified you'd be coming to Volterra," came Cade from suddenly somewhere beside me, and I jumped. Well, that explained the unfriendly expression and shift in personality.
I looked over at him. "By my Dad?"
Cade nodded.
"Okay," I said in a quiet voice, glancing back in front of me. Alice and Bella were nowhere to be seen. "Dammit. Well, that sucks."
"From what I heard, they intend to steal a car," Cade said, like that would make me feel any better.
I frowned. "Kind of defeats the purpose of us going together to find my Dad if they're committing grand theft auto without me."
Instead of answering, Cade extended his arm. I didn't want to take it; I stared at it, wondering why he wouldn't just tell me where they were going so I could slowly follow behind.
He made a growling noise. "For God's sake, come with me," he said, and I didn't have much of a choice but to link with him when his arm dove underneath mine, locking us in an interlaced position. Struggling would be absolutely pointless, so my only disobedient response was to roll my eyes and stare at our area of connection in annoyance. He tugged me toward a crowd of people. I had to walk twice as fast as I normally would to keep up with his long-legged strides. I didn't know whether there was a process to exiting, but the apparent looks we were receiving from workers made me think so; after a while I started keeping my head down. Cade was a vampire on a mission, and he was weaving the two of us through an array of people that came in different shapes, sizes, and attires. I could hear someone call out above the crowd, but their voice was drowned underneath the vocal muddle of departing passengers. Cade didn't pay it any attention.
I became nervous, wondering if we'd get arrested. "Cade, I don't think we should leave without—"
"Do you want killed? It sounds like it because that's what's going to happen if they get you," Cade said pointedly, continuing to weave effortlessly through the crowd.
"In public, though? With everyone watching?"
"No, they won't kill you immediately. They'll take you to your father, if he's been to them already, and then they'll decide your fate," he said. His words made my blood feel abruptly cold. "If you deny them, they kill you. Simple."
"How do you know that?"
It was obvious, though. He knew because he'd been through it. Running away with nowhere to hide—forced to come before an audience of killers. Feeling their presence, even before he had the chance to go to them on his own terms. I wasn't a fool, and he wasn't subtle.
We emerged from the airport lobby, and Cade dragged me suddenly left, behind the building. There was an alley to our right, and that's where I was brought next. It was dark, cold, and a place any killer would be eager to carry out their dirty business in.
"They know you're here," Cade muttered, glancing at me. "They have to."
I wrenched my arm out of his, surprised he released me so easily. Nothing about this made sense. "Are you sure you weren't just smelling Alice?"
"She has a distinct scent. All immortals do after a while. It's newborns that smell the same."
I glanced around. It was so dark, the alley doing more than just containing us. It obscured sunlight and drowned us in darkness, too. "Listen, Cade, you're cool and all, but I'm not gonna play hide and seek with you. The Volturi are who I need to go before anyway. What's the difference if they bring me there instead of me going to them?"
Cade opened his mouth and closed it, searching for something to say that would establish fragile trust again—but I knew he didn't have an answer. It struck me, then, that there was a good chance he was lying. Manipulating me. Relying on my human senses that were rustic compared to his. Leading me around in circles.
It was a damned shame Alice and Bella decided to prioritize Edward over silly, stupid me. This guy was a stranger—a vampire, no less.
"Just cut the shit, man," I said, changing my tone and outlook, glancing over at the opening we came through. Not a single person had passed by since we arrived here; we were stranded together. "There's nobody here. What's the real reason you dragged me into an alley? You gonna drink me dry where the sun doesn't shine?"
He recoiled, his marble face grimacing. "Fucking Christ, no. Relapsing is not an enjoyable process for me. I just... there is something I needed to tell you, and I didn't think you would wait around to hear it."
"Let me guess—you're the Volturi member they sent to capture me?" I rolled my eyes.
But he didn't answer. He looked away from me, and I continued staring at him, even after the silence became unbearable.
"That was a joke," I muttered, taking a step away.
Cade raised his hands in caution. "My mate is a part of Aro's personal guard. She isn't actually a nurse, but she's close. A nurse for vampires, you could say; that's her power. I was in Seattle for personal business, but she called me when your father arrived before Aro, Caius, and Marcus. Aro thought you should have an escort. He was certain you'd march right here, after peering into your father's mind."
"What—is that his Gift?" I felt violated, knowing this Aro guy—whoever he was—saw what occurred directly before Dad fled the country.
Cade's face contorted. "Tactile telepathy, they call it. He sees thoughts by touching the people who bear them."
Even more disturbed, I took in a shuttering breath. "Okay, so you're supposed to lead me to them. Alright. What possessed you to bring me here then, the middle of an alley? You have a sudden lapse in judgment?"
Cade shook his head. "Aurie, my mate, told me what they planned to do with you. Their reason for wanting you brought to them."
"What?" I raised my eyebrows.
"They want you to make your father's decision for him."
I lost my ability to breathe, and for a split moment all I could do was stand. I stood there with a lost façade of composure, maintaining my leg strength like it'd kill me if I fell—stumbled even. Cade faded in and out of focus.
They want me to decide—for him? So he's still mortal.
Mortal, but that will change. There's no denying things will end poorly.
Fuck.
I closed my eyes. "Oh. Okay."
"You should know Aro is entertained by trivial matters like this," Cade said, apparently not seeing I was half a minute from collapsing. "He enjoys prospective talents as well. He does anything to obtain talents like Dakota's and my mate's in his guard. From what my mate told me, Aro is under the impression you are a definite Gifted. He thinks your father is, too. He believes it will tempt you to offer yourself if he threatens your father—or vice versa. Either way, he gets a new talent and stays entertained for another decade."
I was fuming by the end of his explanation. I knew already that this rescue trip would be laden with obstacles, namely the killers my father was giving himself willingly to themselves, but this was a whole other level of burdensome. This was a game to them, a game they intended to win. Dakota was one of his finest assets, and he was gone now, due to me—due to my father. Due to the very gifts Aro wanted in his arsenal, dressed in crimson red, transformed by the Bite. He'd need a replacement. He wanted that replacement to be just as powerful, but able to be molded. Someone who would bow to his every whim and turn their power on his every enemy.
One of us would be Changed. We wouldn't leave together. I could either accept it, or I could die fighting the inevitable.
What other choice did I have?
Play the game. There came that voice, one of brash impulsion. It refused to admit defeat. Defeat wasn't in its vocabulary. You can win it. Find the loophole—and tug.
I immediately sobered up from my despair.
The voice was right. I was right. There would be a loophole. I would find it. I would win.
I turned on Cade, keeping my face as unreadable as I had control over. "The longer we wait, the more he gets impatient. Take me to them."
Cade didn't look happy, but he had no other choice if he wanted to stay in his mate's good graces—and avoid the wrath of the Volturi. "If you insist."
He locked our arms again, dragging me back the way we came.
Now, it was only a matter of time.
Cade stole a car for us—some black thing I didn't bother looking for an auto emblem on—when we reached the parking lot of the airport, and he zoomed like a maniac on the road minutes after it was hotwired. He took shortcuts I didn't even think were possible in such a congested place, and I could only watch in horror as he recklessly evaded tail-ending other drivers. It barely took any time to reach the city limits of Volterra, but by the time we got there, the line became absurdly congested. There was no way to go but ahead, and cars were moving slowly, at the hive pace of incapacitated zombies. There were tour buses in front of us and behind us full of bodiless heads popping from the windows.
Cade let out a frustrated sigh. I glanced at him, then glanced ahead. "This is taking forever. Can't we just get out and go?"
"No, there's no telling what would happen if we did that," he said with another sigh, this time at my expense. "This is the only way in."
The wait was long. I didn't bother holding a conversation and stared outside the windshield, observing the cars as they moved a centimeter per second
There was nothing to admire. This wasn't the city—and I was too anxious to care about trivialities. Then, something caught my eye.
"Cade," I said in alarm, pointing ahead at a man in a navy uniform directing traffic.
"I know," he said. He didn't seem bothered. I had to remind myself Volterra wasn't an enigma to him. "It's fine. We have to walk anyways."
I frowned but kept silent.
Cade followed the man's gestures and did a smooth U-turn in the parking lot, finding a place on the side of the road for us to park. Cade quickly put the hood of his trench-coat over his head. We hopped out, Cade leaving the car running, and we sped for the gates, ignoring the confused calls of uber-perplexed pedestrians.
I realized a second too late I forgot my backpack. There was no time to run back and retrieve it; I had my phone and my wallet, and that was all that really mattered
The guard paid us no attention, but there were frowns of some of the tourists entering the city. Neither of us looked anything like them. There was red, red everywhere—in their hair, on their clothes, painted on their smiling faces. Both Cade and I were in dark ensembles and perpetually frowning.
I tried to ignore this little tidbit of information, a question stuck to the back of my throat. I followed Cade as he breezed through the gate.
We entered Volterra.
I was immediately struck by the striking, fashionably decrepit city that greeted me. Volterra was stunning. The towering structures were the color of cinnamon, and the cobblestone lining the streets matched it in shade—looking ocher under the beams of March sunshine. My inspection took seconds. Cade headed straight, at a brisk pace, and I had no choice but to jog if I wanted to keep up.
There were people all around us. Happy faces, flapping capes, shrill voices that made me want to plug my ears. It was futile to block it out, which left me no choice but to silently suffer. One of the little girls, holding a man's hand, had a red scarf tied around her head like a bandana. When she smiled, what stuck out were her teeth. She was wearing plastic vampire fangs.
I scowled, tempted to go and ask one of those idiot tourists what the hell this was—what they were celebrating—but Cade's arm distracted me. He tugged me flush into his side, and again we dashed down the street. I was carried far from the strange child and her faux incisors, same with her nob-headed Dad.
Yeah, you're right, Cade. I can kick that man's ass when this is over with.
I focused on the tiles and Cade's leather boots as we ran. The area grew more jammed, and I began to feel very on edge. Really, I just hated being hit and nudged by all corners of the painting I was dragged into. Cade's presence wasn't a comfort; it dissolved my composure further. I wanted space. Space was impossible.
I pushed at him. "Go, go—just push through them. I can't fucking stand this."
When I looked up, the towering buildings were even bigger, even more ancient. It's like they getting bigger and I kept getting smaller. I could hardly breathe.
"Here, follow my lead," Cade muttered. I almost didn't hear him.
He pushed into the crowd, and there were curses, angry shouts of people he gave a good elbowing. I followed Cade as he moved exactly, molding our bodies so it was like we were one person merging into the crowd. Except, was it really merging? We pushed, elbowed, and shoved our way through, Cade not bothering to apologize and me getting tugged out of arguments with idiot fucking tourists by Cade's steel arm. I eventually just let myself move with him instead of for him. It made the process much smoother.
Minutes later, we were free. I could feel myself breathe again. I could feel the sun touching my face, warming me up. I didn't even realize I was shivering.
Cade released my arm. "Alright, we're almost there."
"Thank God," I muttered. My legs were aching, but I ignored their exhaustion in favor of jogging after Cade as he went into an alleyway off to the side.
Not another one, I bemoaned in my head.
"We won't be able to go in by ourselves," Cade said in a low mutter, bypassing two or three strange-looking women with red scarves around their necks. They looked like buffoons. I stifled a laugh, knowing they saw but not giving a damn.
Wait. What did he just say? I realized just what Cade implied and straightened myself, increasing my pace so I could walk alongside him.
"What do you mean?" I asked, mirroring his octave.
His entire posture stiffened. In a quick sweep, I found why.
As we went further into the alleyway, the sunlight disappeared and darkness jumped at every corner, shadowing the crevices in black. No one was around now and we were walking alone, the sounds of laughter and chatter in the background. Now, we were coming to a corner that turned into another shadowed alley. At the end of the corner, a shape emerged, looking like materialized darkness. There was no face, but the shape was distinguishable enough to appear human.
I stopped in my tracks. Cade did the same, his body as tense and coiled as mine. Like a viper ready to strike.
"Is it feeding time for you already, Cade?" the shape asked, with an Italian accent.
"You know who this is," Cade told it—a him by the sounds of it, "and you know I've been gone to Seattle for the past week."
The shape moved closer, out of the darkness. I caught a glimpse of crimson eyes.
"Ah, Richard's girl." I narrowed my eyes, scrutinizing the shape until I could vaguely make out features. Those crimson eyes belonged to a sharp face, with an angular jaw and pale skin. Could be olive, but it just looked pale from this distance. He had blond hair that was cropped short, with a fringe hanging into his eyes. He looked young; turned as an eighteen, nineteen-year-old maybe? "Chelsea told me about her."
Cade stepped back towards me. "Afton, please. Aro expects us."
"I was sent to retrieve you," the vampire—Afton—said lightly. "That's all I'm good for, you know."
I raised my eyebrows but said nothing. The guy felt like bad news.
Afton gestured for us to follow him, and Cade didn't hesitate to trail him. I brought up the rear.
"It's just up here," Afton muttered, as we reached a dip in the alley. At the end of the dip, where a brick wall was, I saw an open hole in the ground, with a grate only partially covering it.
"I know where it is," Cade said acidly, his head shifting. He looked over at the fair-haired vampire.
"I was speaking for the girl's benefit."
I rolled my eyes. "Am I supposed to drop down there? No offense, but that's asking a lot of me."
Cade's back twisted as he faced me. "I'll catch you."
Before I could decline, he was walking to the hole—and dropping through it like it was nothing. I didn't even hear him make contact with the ground below.
Was he not afraid Afton would try something while I was here, standing like a cardboard cutout of James Franco and defenseless? Apparently not.
Afton glanced at me, his crimson eyes making me want to tuck tail and run the fuck away. "After you."
"Thanks, Wheatie," I said. I walked over the hole before he could retaliate.
My time in the air was masked by soundless air gusting up my frame and it was brief. My body locked itself tight in terror, fight-or-flight instinct triggered by the lack of thresholds for my feeble self to cling to, and I didn't let myself mentally feel afraid. Physically, you could see every drop of fear manifested in my full-body lockdown; mentally, I was cool as a cucumber.
When I landed in Cade's arms, I could feel myself bruise.
Thankfully, I was already fucked up. No harm, no foul.
"Nothing happened."
"Thanks, Captain Obvious," I said, sneering at him in the darkness. He took the hint and dropped me.
Half a second later, Afton was beside us. I glanced at him, then up at the arch of sunlight beaming from the exposed hole.
Afton saw my drifted attention and chuckled. "I'm not the only one who was tasked with escorting. It will be used again very soon."
"Better hope some dumbass doesn't decide to drop down and explore," I said, forgetting what kind of injury a drop like this would warrant.
Afton's face told me he realized my error as well. He said nothing, though, and gestured for us to move forward.
Cade took me by the arm, and I felt like a manhandled rag-doll as I had to elongate my strides to match his. We were in some kind of tunnel, and it blackened the further we got from the drop-off hole. I heard water dripping everywhere—from my left, from my right, above and down below. I tried not to fret, but it was difficult when I didn't recognize a single thing about this tunnel and the two asshats flanking me were strangers escorting me to my fated doom. Yeah, not much was peachy. My heart had already dropped to the pit of my stomach; it was taking all of my power not to panic. I was doing a lousy job at not panicking.
Neither of them talked. Our entire walk was quiet, tense, and cold. It wasn't until we reached an open grille of bars, and all three of us ducked through, that I felt my nerves ebb away, replaced by unease.
Afton took the lead, and the wooden door at the end of this strange, outdated room we entered—made of stone and alarmingly empty—came open upon his push.
Suddenly, the scenery changed. The hallway we stepped into was ordinary, like something from a psychiatric clinic. The walls were off-white with paint impeccable and not a flaw in sight, the carpets underneath soft-looking and gray. At the end of the hallway was an elevator. Afton glanced at us, taking in my hopefully-unreadable gaze and Cade's face marred by annoyance, and swept his way there. We followed swiftly behind.
Afton pressed the elevator button and we waited mere moments for it to open. I took the furthest corner and crossed my arms over my chest. Cade took a spot at the opposite center, and Afton hovered by the buttons. I didn't pay attention to what number he pressed.
After a short ride, the elevator came to a stop and the door opened wide. The space we arrived at was akin to a receptionist's room, similar to what Dr. Meadows's office looked like, only bigger. The walls were blocked by wooden panels, the carpets a soft, earthy green that felt like moss under my sneakers. In the middle sat a glossy counter a statuesque, dark-skinned woman was standing at. Looking at her hazel eyes I realized—with alarm—she was human. Human, in the presence of two vampires. To my bafflement, she smiled upon our entrance, but the smile flattened slightly when she looked at Afton's face. A flatlined smile that didn't correspond to horror.
"Afton," she greeted unenthusiastically.
Afton snorted and walked the few paces it took to reach the woman's desk. "Hi, Gianna. Still desperate as ever for entry into the Lost Boys, I see."
The woman's eyes widened, her lips twitching like she wanted badly to scowl—but the survivalist in her knew that wasn't smart. The next smile she sent the three of us was blinding and fake, her eyes locating Cade almost desperately. "How are you today, Mr. Ambrose?"
Cade shifted, the only sign he was startled. "I'm good, Gianna."
The woman didn't bother asking me how I was. My face said all that anyone needed to know.
Without another word Afton began walking, to another hallway. Cade took me by my hand without asking permission, and I was again given no choice but to dutifully follow behind. We quickly came upon a panel in the wall that, upon Afton moving, revealed a nondescript door as wooden as the paneling itself. I frowned as Afton shoved it open.
I was immediately paralyzed, forced to move by Cade's merciless tug.
There, at the opposite corner of the room, was a group of men, three men who had the same pallor as every other monster I'd met. All three of them were unnaturally pale, their skin insipid and stretched tight over gaunt bone structure, with crimson eyes that bled red as the blood sloshing around in my veins. I could feel myself going lightheaded, every part of me that cared about living to see tomorrow begging that I run while their attention was elsewhere, but the restraining grip Cade had on my wrist kept me secured where I was. My eyes frantically went around the room, observing it for what it was. It was made of stone, like that room we entered after leaving the tunnel, and vast, the only furniture a set of lofty chairs stationed at the far right. I knew without a shadow of hesitation that the three immortals lounging by the windowsill owned those chairs—sat in them, used them as a symbol of their position in the vampire hierarchy. They weren't alone, but I didn't focus on the vampires stationed at multiple sides of the room; they were obviously guards and completely irrelevant. I was unpleasantly entranced.
The door shut behind us. One of the three puissant immortals turned.
The immortal that turned was beautiful, but his beauty was not like the beauty of Roman—whose soft eyes and buff figure yielded a human appeal to him—or even Dakota—whose tan skin resulted in his vampiric pallor looking more a sickly yellow than an onionskin white. This one was average height, a few inches shorter than my grandfather, with shoulder-length hair the color of obsidian. His stone expression melted into a delighted smile when he spotted us standing by the doorway. The same could not be said for his companions who looked like they had a sudden hailstorm arrive on a Good Hair day. Their expressions didn't yield an emotion, but it was safe to say they weren't happy to see me.
He came towards us gracefully, with a gait unparalleled by any of the vampires I'd encountered, even Alice.
"Alissa!" he cried, in a tone so chummy I could only stare, my jaw unhinged. "Alissa—yes, there's no mistaking it. You look just like your father with far more delicate features. The hair and eyes..."
He trailed off in thought, looking at the vampires accompanying me. His smile never dimmed.
"Thank you, Afton. You may join Chelsea now; I hear she's in her quarters," the immortal instructed, and Afton bowed. He mumbled something inaudible and left the way we came; I didn't even get a chance to tell him how much I despised him, hated his fucking guts. What a sorry excuse for a night-crawler. The crimson-eyed vampire's gaze then went to Cade, and a larger smile crossed his leathery lips. "Cade, thank you. I know it was under short notice that Aurelia contacted you, but here you are! Here she is! You've done a great service for me. I reward great services like such."
It was quickly dawning on me why Dakota saw this immortal—and his companions—as more than employers. This one in particular sounded so earnest in his praises, even I wanted to think highly. You sound ridiculous, I snapped at myself. The crimson coating Aro's unblinking eyes made me sober from such an ignorant thought.
I gnawed on my lip, watching Cade smile and bow to the immortal. His smile wasn't genuine.
"Go and find Aurelia. I know you've missed her dearly," Aro said, still smiling that creepy smile.
Cade didn't spare me a glance, and I didn't open my mouth to say goodbye. I watched him leave the way Afton did.
Alone with three terrifying ancient greats and their guard detail, I slowly looked away from the door. My gaze took a detour on its way to the immortal standing feet away from me.
He was smiling like a loon when I looked into his beady red eyes.
I didn't move an inch, even as my muscles tensed at his scrutiny. He was obviously thrilled, the smile on his face just growing and growing. I, on the other hand, was in distress. Morbidly fucking disturbed by his smile.
"You being here is such a treat," the immortal said happily. "Dakota has pinned since his inauguration for someone of his bloodline, and it's always been in vain. Yet here you are, and your father too—the both of you willing! Isn't that ironic? We lose Dakota only to gain two of his descendants in the weeks that follow! How can I be disappointed? I will admit I was disappointed at first, but not anymore. No, I'm ecstatic."
I couldn't speak, I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. Not possible.
The immortal tilted his head to the side, like a dog facing a distraught owner. "Are you frightened, my dear? I know the trick to cheering you up. Dante! Fetch Richard for me, will you?"
I didn't turn to see what Dante looked like.
I fought a flinch as the door slammed shut behind him. His exit was noiseless.
I was being scrutinized again, and I hated every second of it. He was not like Cade; I was not intrigued by him. I was terrified—and Cade's claim I would have to trade my mortality to keep my Dad's intact didn't help my body from clamming up like paralysis had forsaken me. I was more than frightened, as the unnamed immortal put it; every part of me wanted to scream and claw my way out. That was the survivor in me. The reckless, self-preserving survivor who would do anything to stay alive.
I couldn't bear looking at the immortal any longer than I had to. He was not beautiful; he captivated my senses the way a corpse with its guts hanging out would.
His stare was unnerving. I couldn't bear it any longer.
"What's your name?" I asked, voice quieter than a whisper.
You're looking and acting like a mouse, dumbass. Don't show your fear.
It didn't matter if I trembled like a naked child in a snow-covered forest or stood with my spine snapped straight; he would know I was afraid.
"I am Aro," he said with a grin. He reached forward, as if to touch me. Cade's warning swept through my mind.
I violently flinched back.
That white hand retracted to his side, but the grin on his face didn't move an inch.
"Understandable," he said. My body tensed even further when one of his companions, a few inches taller with shoulder-length hair a shocking white and skin just as pale, came to stand beside Aro. His own face was expressionless, engraved with sharp, angular features like most other immortals I had met. Like he was made of stone.
I darted my eyes between Aro and his "friend", not knowing who was the biggest threat. Maybe they were equals in that department. Their other companion
The door coming open again gained my attention, and I looked over my shoulder. Dante had returned—but not alone.
My father was stumbling forward like he had no control over his body, Dante following at a leisurely pace feet behind. Dante was attractive and obviously much younger than most of the immortals here. He had blackened eyes, swarthy but with an unnatural pallor, and hair noticeably black that was in a buzzcut. He was tall and strong-looking—and not even touching my father to restrain him.
My father, who looked just like he did the day he left.
Dad was disheveled, his glasses gone from his eyes and his muss of dark, uncut hair in disarray as it curled around his ears. His chocolate brown eyes were locked on the ground, his lithe body being dragged by Marcus and the other vampire. He was wearing different clothes—an expensive-looking caramel-brown jacket, a white henley, and a pair of bootcut jeans. There was nothing on his feet except socks, for some reason. I tried not to let that fact bother me.
Aro began to clap. "Marvelous—thank you, Dante. Now, Alissa."
He didn't say anymore, so I quickly looked over at him. That fucking face was beginning to grate my nerves.
"I feel like I know you," he burst out, in that heinous little voice of his. He tried to touch me again, and I took a step back, bringing myself closer to Dad. A disappointed noise came from the back of Aro's throat. "I've seen you in your father's memories; you have a talent for getting yourself out of trouble, another talent for others coming to your rescue. I think you would bear something even more remarkable than simple parlor tricks if you were to join me."
Parlor tricks—he was talking about me speaking to spirits and conjuring them from my palm. He didn't know the half of what I could do. Even I didn't. Sure, I was limited in my offerings, but it was better than nothing. Better than being normal. Aro's underestimation of me would either work in my favor or result in my demise. His Gift would dive deep into my thoughts and pull out things I couldn't afford him knowing, like my agenda here.
What agenda, idiot?
Even I didn't know my true agenda. I had ideas but he'd jump to conclusions regardless.
I blinked at him, and he took that as an invitation to continue.
"Richard here came in concord, only to slaughter three of my guards," he said, his voice now carrying a deadly lilt. I stiffened. "Now, I must find replacements. Do you know how I will find those replacements? He slaughtered one of my finest trackers and two assets—Fiona and Enzo. Dante here has had to ensure that won't happen again. His psychokinesis has been a blessing, as always."
I glanced behind me at the stoic vampire whose face didn't even twitch at the compliment, then Dad, whose jaw was taut and body seemed to be vibrating.
Psychokinesis was a form of telekinesis—the ability to manipulate objects and people with your mind. That's how Dante was keeping him—and his powers—restrained. That's why my Dad looked like he was fucking quadriplegic.
Aro giggled like a schoolgirl who had her first kiss. "I should ask you first what you're doing here. Why did you come to save your father when he hurt you as he did?"
Was he trying to manipulate me? I couldn't tell what the fucker's intentions were.
I sighed through my nose, glancing up at him through my eyelashes. "He doesn't know what he's doing," I said throatily. "Surely you saw that, when you... yeah."
Aro smiled and nodded his head vigorously. "Yes, I did. Your father has a fraction of Dakota's memories from when he was abroad living here. That is why he came here—but that isn't why he decided to kill three of our Guard. It is a good thing Fiona and Enzo were mates."
I caught his implication. My upper lip curled in disgust.
"It is difficult to replace potential like theirs," Aro continued, and he stepped two or three feet closer to me. I made to step back but the taciturn presence of Dante startled me forward. I knew the panic shone clear as daylight in my expression as Aro came closer to touching me; I'd spell wolves to my rescue before that ever had a chance of happening. "Fortunately, you and Richard are not ordinary."
Aro looked past me, at my father.
"What- do you plan on doing?" I asked, wishing I were back on the plane.
The smile on Aro's mouth stretched again. "You will join me, dear."
My heart leapt in my throat.
Dad had royally fucked up any chance we had of leaving by killing not one, but three members of the Volturi's Guard. It meant there was a piece of him unwilling to surrender, but knowing he was still there couldn't soothe me in our current predicament. We were in fucking danger.
Aro breezed past me, appearing in front of my Dad. I whipped around; my immediate reaction was to think he intended to hurt Dad, so I unclenched my fist, ready to hurl shapes if it meant I would knock that sick fuck out of my father's face.
I made eye contact with Dante, and his murky eyes narrowed, his jaw tensing. He sensed I was going to attack his leader. Dad was still undermined on the ground, put there by that fucker's Gift, and I would soon join—if Dante felt I was just as much of a threat.
I realized what was coming before it happened.
But, something unwanted happened instead. Something that would ruin me and everything I'd come to understand about my reality.
Dante's eyes became slits in his concentration on me, and I felt something beating at my mind—beating at my body. I stumbled back, feeling energy thrum through me like I was a machine pumped full of petrol. One of my legs collapsed and I fell on my knees. My hands reached up to my head as a searing pain emerged, so painful I lost my ability to think, my ability to perceive. I refused to scream.
The pain disappeared as fast as it came. I fell in a fetal heap on the ground.
"Extraordinary," Aro breathed.
I thought he was referring to me, to my position—but quickly I realized I wasn't the only one on the ground.
My eyes fell open, and I turned my head, staring straight over at the vampires crowding the door. Dante was in the same position as me, except it looked like his entire body was locked, his legs ramrod-straight and unmoving, his arms and torso the same. A strange noise was coming from his mouth—like a whimper.
Feeling something move beside me I leapt into action. I hurriedly got to my knees, head still aching, then stumbled to my feet.
Dante didn't move from his place on the ground—and Dad was notably no longer constrained. The other ancient immortal that completed the trio, with pasty olive skin and black hair that looked identical to Aro's, had moved to stand by Aro and the white-haired one.
"How did you do that?" Aro asked, staring at me in wonder and that same giddy delight.
I shook my head—shook it until I had whiplash. "I don't, I don't know."
My hands were quivering.
Aro reached forward to touch me, but the black-haired one's arm shot out to stop him. The surly man brought his mouth to Aro's ear and whispered something I couldn't hear. Aro's face became painted with disappointment.
"Ah, yes, you're correct, Marcus." A pause. "I was only curious." Another pause. "I have nine lives, if you remember."
I felt Dad come to stand near me, his body the only warmth I'd had in hours. He stood silently and morosely—a pleasant familiarity in a room of aliens.
I was absolutely stricken, tormented by my fears. Especially after I supposedly defended myself against Dante by doing something that bewildered me. Did I... turn Dante's own Gift on him?
Look at him, restrained on the ground. What else could you have done?
I didn't want it to be true. If it were true, Aro would never let me leave. He would threaten me with my Dad's well-being, and stupidly, I would surrender myself without a sliver of hesitation. I was not normal, I knew that much, but I thought I was at least normal by supernatural standards. I didn't want to be one of Aro's puppets, but how long could I go denying him before he decided to force my submission?
Aro, released by Marcus and standing with a fascinated look, reached forward again. This time, he wasn't stopped by Marcus—but he didn't make it far.
Dad flung out his hand, a black shape emerging that enlarged until it was the size of a bear; it then launched itself at Aro. Quick as lightning, Aro's body became a shape of its own, a blur, reappearing several feet away. I heard the defensive snarls of his Guard as they sprung forward.
"Dante—" Aro snarled, paying the others of his Guard no attention. If I had to guess, Dante was the only Guard in the room with a Gift.
Unfortunately for Aro, Dante was still on the ground, unmoving. Dad didn't stop at one shape, flinging an array of more equal in size and opaque darkness. I could hear their growls, feel the tremble of their energy, see them manifest from the palm of my Dad's hand. One of the Guards, fair-haired and short, materialized in front of the ancients to defend Aro in Dante's place. My eyes didn't know where to look as they each charged forward and were individually extinguished by the nameless vampire's marble arms; they shot out and choked each shadow until they became a mist of ashes. He wouldn't even let them get close to Aro.
I was mesmerized. My mind urged me to join my father in fighting, but it didn't feel smart. There were more ten immortals in the room and two of us; we were unevenly matched.
Instead of making the obvious, reckless choice, I stood where I was and watched my Dad seal his fate. Now we were both doomed—me to an immortal life and him to death.
From Dad's hand came an entire army of wolves, and he didn't seem exhausted, not in the slightest. The wolves charged at Aro and were diverted by the nameless vampire and another male who had come to join him, converging on the shadows. Each shadow's growl became a pained yelp as they were defeated, the army of wolves no challenge to vampires older than time its fucking self. However, Dad would not stop throwing everything he had at them; he'd immediately conjure another set after the previous wave disintegrated.
"Enough," the white-haired vampire said in a steely tone. "Cillian."
Before I could even question what he was planning to do, a hand cold as an Alaskan windstorm and hard as a metal door went around my throat. Tighter, tighter, tighter—
Until I couldn't breathe.
My eyes widened, and I lifted my hands to futilely try prying out of the immortal's grip. He only seemed to constrict his grip on my windpipe
Fuck—I thought, the word like a scream into the void.
My heart sped up in tempo. My eyes locked and located on the only person who could act as a saving grace. My mental pleas fell on deaf ears, but a false security entered my gut and stayed when he looked over. When his hand froze, when the two Guards killed the last shadow wolf. Dad met my eyes, then met the eyes of the killer holding me hostage. A killer who was apparently named Cillian.
His jaw clenched, a tremor ticking there and on his neck. His hands fell to his sides.
I opened my mouth, a ghastly gurgle all I could push out.
Dante pushed up from the ground, seemingly fine as wine. My final vision that had the clear complexion of perfect eyesight.
My ears cottoned. I could feel my vision blurring by the second, especially as my feet suddenly elevated from the ground, the immortal's hand raising me in the air. My life was forfeit and my blood was losing momentum. I kicked out.
Fear. Anger. Control.
Fear. Anger. Control.
The mantra repeated, each reiteration more deranged than the last.
My entire body was taken over by fear. I was screaming in my head all sorts of unintelligible warbles at the expense of being at Death's Door's. I knew what happened when I got this way. Arcus had taught me ways to conquer it, but being in immediate danger like now was different. I desperately wracked my brain for solutions but came up with nothing; Dad had no way of saving me, not when he was just as fucking helpless. I was overtaken by fear. And when I was overtaken by fear, I—
Lose control.
The voices of Aro and Dad muffled, my vision unseeing and distorted, I jerked my hand out at the vampire choke-holding me. I didn't feel it, I didn't hear, I didn't see it—but the empty feeling that suddenly came and wrapped me up was all it took to know I succeeded.
The hand obstructing my trachea disappeared and I was dropped to the ground. I collapsed on two numb legs; my own hands, tingling and feeling like physical TV static, reached up to massage my throat.
I gasped out an unheard breath. The cotton in my ears drowning everything sensible came removed by a felt, unknown presence and my eyesight was blinded by stars. At least I could hear or see at all.
My relief didn't last long.
"You—" the auburn-haired immortal snarled from my right.
"Sh, Cillian, it's alright," Aro said placatingly. "An eye for an eye."
I almost passed out, you fuckhead.
"I'd prefer her punished," Cillian said to Aro, tone tellingly lighter. He wasn't about to argue with his superior; that was suicide.
Aro laughed. "Then we will have Jane punish them, if you so please."
Cillian did not complain further. My body tensed, my head shooting up to stare in horror at the immortal who made punishment sound trivial. For them, it was a sport.
Bastards.
The look on Aro's face wasn't a friendly one, but it had the strange gratification of a spoiled child getting an extra birthday present. I waited for him to speak—but he said nothing else.
It was like he knew there were presences lingering outside the door.
The looming door swung open, bringing new arrivals. Still in a crumpled heap on the ground I only turned my head to see their faces, not in a welcoming mood. It was unsurprising to see Alice and Bella—but a brutal shock that they weren't alone.
The figure leading them didn't look dangerous at all. She was unusually short with a prepubescent body and a black cloak that swallowed her whole. Her small face was pale and angelic—and her brown hair was in a neat bob that only further allocated her a childlike appearance. When she looked at me, I felt like I was looking at Death. She couldn't be benign if she bore such empty red eyes. I had to look away and at the next immortal. Close behind her—and holding her hand, to my bewilderment—came a boy who could be the girl's twin. It didn't take for me to realize they were twins; it explained their close proximity. The only obvious difference in their appearance was his hair being several shades darker than hers. His crimson eyes were just as remorseless.
Bella was soaked to the bone and clinging to a man just as beautiful as the rest of them. Tall, with a lanky frame accentuated by a dazzling red cloak that did very little to conceal certain extremities. I didn't look there though—I gawked in paralytic scrutiny at his face. He had a very angular face with high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a cadaverous jawline. There was a mop of bronze hair on his head. His eyes were like liquid gold—a shade or two brighter than Roman's. He was vegetarian. Handsome, but livid.
Anger can make the prettiest people hideous.
I recognized him as Edward. I didn't have to know him personally; Bella clinging to him like crafts glue said all I needed to know.
I forced myself to my feet, unable to look away from the morbidly attractive group. The little girl was close enough to reach out and snap my neck. All it would take... all it needed... was closed distance. I wouldn't even feel my life drain from me. It'd be like knocking myself unconscious: instant and painless.
There were two male vampires behind Bella and Edward, one a hulking mass of a person and another significantly smaller in width but nearly equal in height. The giant one had black hair cropped short to his scalp and an olive complexion diminished to a chalky paleness; the smaller one had shoulder-length black hair with skin just as anemic. They both had blood-red eyes that made my spine feel flaccid.
Bella's gaze found mine, and her eyelids shot upward, disappearing into the crevices of her sockets. She was clutching Edward like she'd melt if he released her. She was nervous, frightened, and dripping water all over the stone floor. Her askance glances gave me a relief I should have felt guilty for.
How unfortunate to be the most helpless in the room, I thought, like it was some triumph. It was—in a way. They would focus on her far more than they would me.
Yeah, right. A foolish, desperate hope that was. Especially when mine and my father's crimes warranted a punishment worse than death.
Before I could open my mouth, two marble hands—decently-sized and dark-skinned—wrapped around my arms, restraining me to a toned chest. I flailed for a moment, only for the head of the immortal holding me to lean down at my ear, mouth grazing the lobe, and him to hiss, "Don't resist."
I wasn't dim enough to overlook a threat. I sagged in defeat, and my gaze shot to my father. Desperation flooded me.
Dante was obviously exercising his Gift on him, relying on physical strength to keep me restrained. Where I could somehow avoid his Gift, Dad wasn't so lucky. My father was pinned to the ground by an invisible force, his angry face showing the struggle both physical and mental he was enduring.
I couldn't move a muscle; even if I prevailed in escaping, Dante was too quick to flee completely from. He was a wordless, docile machine. His only motivation was to keep Aro safe, and I knew he hadn't appreciated what I did to him, albeit how involuntary it was.
He's just like Dakota.
They all were. The longer I went here, the more I saw the extent of their loyalty.
Except, there was something off about it. If only there was a way of knowing what.
I let Dante act as the chains that kept me in place. I stared at my Dad, wishing he could escape Dante's psychokinetic manacles. Out of the two of us he was the most controlled—and powerful. He supposedly killed three of them before they put a stop to his rampage. How?
When we fought that night, he wasn't aiming to kill me, just incapacitate me. The man who raised me was still somewhere in there, fighting for full control of his own mind and body. Dakota's ambitions didn't hinder his protective instincts. He was a fractured mess and could only do so much to overcome a killer's memories.
It was why, looking at him now, he had the facial expression of a father watching his daughter be brought in for the slaughter he created. It was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde; the good side of my Dad came out in small doses, but those small doses were no match for the monster as it consumed him.
The loyalty in Dakota's memories with the Volturi was what forced Dad here—but that loyalty was evidently artificial. I wasn't stupid enough to think the vampires here genuinely had love or even respect for their superiors. Many of them had Gifts far stronger than Aro's, like Cade's.
Something was amiss.
I narrowed my eyes, concentrating now on Aro.
There was a conversation occurring I hadn't even noticed.
Bella and Edward were in front of me, Alice protectively standing off to the side. Aro had his hands clasped behind his back, his red eyes flickering between the three with a fond, enchanted smile.
"I love a happy ending," he was saying, strangely breathily. "They are so rare. I would like the whole story. How did this happen? Alice?" He stared at her with a sickly curious gaze that made me feel faint. "Your brother thinks you infallible, but there appears to have been a mistake."
"I'm far from infallible," Alice said drily. There was an insincere smile grazing her lips. "As you see, I cause problems as often as I cure them."
Aro made a noise with his tongue, beating it against the roof of his mouth. "You're much too modest, dear. I've seen some of your more amazing exploits, and I must admit I've never observed anything like your talent. It's just wonderful!"
Jesus, I thought. This guy had a way of sounding like he'd lost every marble.
Alice glanced at Edward, her face unreadable. The two of them shared a long look.
Aro clapped his hands together; I narrowly avoided flinching at the sound.
"I apologize, Alice. We haven't been properly introduced at all, have we? It's just I feel like I know you already, and I tend to get ahead of myself. I know you from your brother's memories, but that's never anything like truly meeting someone for your own interpretation to be made. Memories can be distorted; they're too personal not to be, correct?" None of us answered, even at the lengthy pause Aro took. He sighed. "I share some of your brother's talent, but I am limited in a way he is not."
"Exponentially more talented, however," Edward said in addition, looking over at his sister. He was personally acquainted with Aro where Alice wasn't. "Aro needs physical contact to hear your thoughts, but he hears much more than I do. You know I can only hear what's passing through your head in the moment. Aro hears every thought your mind has ever had."
Tactile telepathy, right? And he wanted to touch me—to see if I affected him the way I did Dante when he concentrated his efforts on restraining me. His Gift did nothing to harm me; it instead turned on its owner. What would happen if Aro—
There was a click of two agate fingers. "Bring Alissa over to me, Dante," the frightening immortal unexpectedly instructed.
I shot my eyes wide open, looking at Aro in horror. Bella had the same expression; the conversation had taken an abrupt turn.
Dante dragged me closer, the two of us weaving around Alice, Edward, and Bella, placing me in front of Aro. When I was there, Aro waved his hand in dismissal. The hand-shaped clamps around my arms vanished, the cold presence of Dante going with it. I was left alone.
Aro smiled at me, then over my head. "Alissa here demonstrated something extraordinary before you came to join us. Something that reminds me of your Bella, Edward."
I turned my head to look at the three behind me. Edward's face was curious as he glanced at me; his eyebrows momentarily raised a fraction before he looked away. Bella still looked horrified. She was doing a terrible job at hiding her fear. I turned around, my shoulders slumped. There was no way around this.
Aro shook his head in visible disappointment, heaving a sigh. "It puts a rift in my plans of punishment," he said, and his gaze found something further back. "Alissa's father will only have to take it twice."
It didn't take a genius to figure out what he insinuating. Actually, what he was clearly spelling out.
"No," I said loudly—louder than I'd spoke since arriving. Aro's misty eyes turned to me. Actually, everyone's eyes turned to me; I felt it, the hairs on my neck and arms standing on edge. "I—whatever punishment you planned, I'll take it."
Aro smiled. "Richard killed three of my Guard. The punishment in store for him was going to be heinous regardless of your contribution. You should save your battles, dear."
My face fell into a sneer; he was patronizing me. "I'm not defenseless. Piss me off and you'll find out what happens to assholes I don't like."
I heard a procession of snarls from behind me—his Guard interpreting my threat. All it would take was a word from Aro or his companions; I'd be a dead girl walking.
However, that didn't exactly happen. Aro's only reaction was to continue smiling that horrid fucking grin. "Ah, dear, I never suggested—" He cut himself off and peered closer; the intensity of his gaze did little to reassure me. "Your father is the more vulnerable of you. You have a way to save his life and your own, but I fear it's not an offer you would take."
He was right to "fear" my refusal; Hell would freeze over before that ever happened, even if it meant sacrificing me and my father. In the heat of the moment I thought about being altruistic, but... Dad wouldn't want that life for me either.
I glared up at Aro's paper-thin, ghostlike face. "No thanks. I'd rather die."
So you'd let your own father die? You came here to save him.
Save him.
Find the loophole. Tug.
A spiral of thoughts ignited my mind in turmoil. I couldn't concentrate on them and the physical present both.
Aro's smile flattened. Again, he was disappointed. "That's just too bad. You are very promising. More promising than Dakota was. As prospective a talent as Alec and Jane were when we found them. But perhaps—" His eyes flashed dangerously. "No, that's not possible for you. Your father, on the other hand..."
I couldn't keep up with him or his train of thought.
He looked past me yet again and I followed his gaze. He was looking at the new group of guards hovering around Marcus and the white-haired vampire defensively. "Felix, fetch Chelsea for me."
No footsteps; the looming vampire who looked like he could snap Roman in half turned and left the room, after a swift bow. I raised my eyebrows.
Who's Chelsea? What the fuck?
I looked around hoping to find an answer, getting none.
Frustrated, I turned back to Aro. He was smiling pleasantly. "Who is Chelsea?" I asked, sneering through the name.
Aro didn't answer.
I feared the worst.
A minute or two after Felix left he returned. He returned with a petite girl who had long brown hair and crimson eyes. She looked at all of us gathered—then her gaze settled Aro.
"Hello, Chelsea," he said with a smile. "I have someone here who requires your talents."
She looked at me standing in front of her leader, but I wasn't the target. Aro's gaze directed her own eyes to my grounded father.
She gave Aro a questioning a gaze.
"Sever their ties," he instructed.
It took long for me to comprehend, but already the inhumanely beautiful immortal was edging closer and staring straight at my father. He was powerless and I was incapable of saving him except to profusely implore Aro didn't do what his instructions suggested.
"No, no, don't," I begged. I tried to spring forward but a guard had been waiting for me to make a move; not an inch had I moved before I was locked in place by the granite arms of Dante. There was no use; my father was staring Chelsea in the face as she did something unseen, unfelt by me or any other bystanders. What did he mean by severing our ties? It sounded a lot like he—Chelsea, really—was going to make my own father disloyal to me. A burst of anger swarmed me, then, and I couldn't get a grasp on my powers. I was fucking seething.
Forgetting I was fragile flesh and bone, from my hands burst figures of wolves unlike any I'd ever produced. They coasted the short distance into Dante, and he was knocked from me, his clamping grip disappearing.
I turned to glare at him, but another vampire was there—this time with a hand around my throat.
Not again, I thought miserably.
But this time, the hand was there as a threat only. The one it belonged to was one of the escorts that brought Edward, Bella, and Alice here. The one with shoulder-length hair and a polite countenance. That politeness did not exist now. His beautiful face held no sympathy as his eyes cinched in a glare of warning.
At least it wasn't Felix.
I did not try another attack, and Aro giggled from somewhere nearby. "A marvelous show of daughterly love. Now, it was only a threat; Chelsea was not going to permanently sever your bond. Were you, Chelsea?"
Chelsea smiled. "If that were what you wished."
"See? And I had no intentions of doing something so cruel. It was merely for show. I cannot use her Gift on you."
"Why would you need to?" I asked around Demetri's hand.
"I would immensely enjoy your Gift being in my arsenal," he told me. "It's a pity you're immune, a fortune your father is not."
Find a loophole. Tug, I repeated in my head, over and over.
"Thank you, Chelsea. You may leave," Aro told the brunette before looking at a different member of his Guard. "Jane? Come here, please."
As Chelsea took her leave through the great wooden door, the tiny girl from before approached us on light, unheard feet. She smiled happily up at Aro. "Yes, Master?"
"Wait for a moment, Jane. Before you deliver Richard his punishment, I have a curiosity to sate," Aro said in an eager tone, swiftly walking over to Edward and Bella. They stiffened at his change in attention. "If I may... Well first, let me explain the origins of my curiosity. You see, I have seen a great many extraordinary things about you, Bella, in Edward's mind, and I'm fascinated that you are the one exception to his impressive talent. Edward and I are similar in many ways with our talents, and I wonder—if you are an exception to me as well?"
Bella stared at him in terror, clutching at Edward for comfort. Edward's face was sour like he swallowed a lemon.
Aro didn't stop staring in that eager way of his. Bella looked to Edward for an answer—and Edward's head dipped in encouragement.
Bella raised a shaky hand. Aro glided forward with interest.
When they touched, nothing visible happened. Bella looked considerably more petrified as the seconds ticked by and Aro's face became irate, then lost its incensed appearance. He relaxed and a friendly smile overtook his leathery mouth.
"How very interesting," he muttered, stepping away. Bella's body deflated in relief. Aro was silent for a long, long moment, glancing between all of us: Edward, Alice, Bella, me, and my father. He gave his head a rough shake, like he was snapping himself out of a daze. "I wonder if she is immune to our other talents... Jane, dear?"
Edward violently lurched forward, his face twisting into a snarl. "No!"
Jane stood where she was, not removing her gaze from Aro—her master. I could see the anticipation on her childlike features.
Aro ignored Edward as he continued to snarl and solely looked at Jane. "I was wondering, my dear one, if Bella is immune to you as well."
Edward tried shielding Bella, his glare targeting the beautiful little girl as she turned, her eyes alight with glee. In a daring show of protection he lunged at her.
Only for the little girl to target him with her smile.
Edward fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Nothing had touched him, yet his limbs were spazzing, his expression twisting like something was puncturing his skin. I didn't have to ask what was causing his pain; Jane was the only one looking at him, and her delighted smile spoke a thousand words.
Demetri didn't release my throat, and I uncomfortably stared at the picture in front of me.
Bella jumped forward, shrieking out, "Stop!" but Alice was there to grab around her waist. Alice held her as she physically freaked, reaching frontward for Edward to no avail.
I didn't have it in me to feel pity, not when I knew my father would be facing this same punishment.
Edward did not scream, but his mouth was open like he wanted to.
"Jane," Aro said calmly. When she looked away from Edward, he became immobile. Aro inclined his head at where Bella struggled aimlessly in Alice's arms.
Jane looked over, still smiling.
Bella's distressed gaze was on Edward, like she didn't even realize she was in danger.
We waited. Edward slowly rose to his feet, staring at Bella in dread. A glance at Jane made that dread relax into something more like repose.
Bella's own gaze turned. Jane's smile had disappeared, replaced by a hateful scowl. There was a threat underneath the burning hatred. A threat she would have enacted if not for her loyalty to her master.
Aro smiled in a placating way, laughing lightly. "So interesting." He looked at Jane, but Jane did not return his stare. "Don't be put out, dear one. She confounds us all."
But Jane wasn't listening. Maybe he didn't notice it, but I noticed her hands clench into tight little fists. I noticed her look sharply away, gaze spreading like a wildfire over the layout of figures. Finally, she rested on one in particular. She looked at me still restrained—immobilized and afraid.
That anger became smug. That scowl curved into a smile.
She gave a tiny jerk of her head. I tensed in preparation.
Only for something alike to my confrontation with Dante to occur.
Jane's smile dropped as fast as it came and suddenly her hands rose to her head. She curled in on herself, falling to the ground—and a shriek of pain built its way in her throat, coming out like a scream. She began to writhe like Edward did, spasming like a decapitated snake. I watched in stunned silence, as did everyone else in the room. Jane's scream cut off somewhere after she adapted to the pain, but she did not stop writhing.
"Jane!" her twin bellowed, dashing to her side.
Dimitri's grip tightened until it became a chokehold. My windpipe clogged.
"Dimitri," Aro said warningly.
I was quickly dropped. In the same position as earlier, my hands rose to my throat. I rubbed it gently.
Jane was still on the ground with Alec hovering over her, but it seemed her writhing had calmed slightly.
Disliking my position substantially, I slowly sat up.
Aro's figure was there to greet my terrified gaze.
"I remember when I meet Dakota," he said. "He was timid—not entirely newborn, but he was only two or so months into the vegetarian diet his keeper had him on before he fled. It made him clumsy. He came to us after having his head filled with romanticized fantasies of Volterra. He was inept. His former teacher not did guide him; Dakota only knew a quarter of his potential. I showed him the other seventy-five.
"You see, Alissa, I do not think your father or even that wolf pack of yours are the right teachers for you," he continued, and I stared up, knowing I was doing a terrible job at concealing my hatred. "You would be undisputed force, but only if you welcomed your full potential. As a mortal you will die one day, carrying with you nothing but a pen-mark in your ancestral line. There is nothing remarkable about you now. But... that could change."
What I did, the ricochet of not only Jane's but Dante's Gift was not a usual occurrence; Aro was fascinated by it, like he was Bella's exception to his own Gift. Aro was a collector of unique talents like ours, for his own gain—his own power.
I stood from my place on the ground and took several steps back, walking straight into the formidable form of Dimitri. He did not touch me, but his presence was enough to strike fear into my gut.
Aro took advantage of my temporary paralysis. He reached forward, with a gaze akin to a child at a toy store, and his hand touched mine. Skin unlike anything I'd felt—old, rough, and cold. So cold. He raised my hand up against my will, connecting our palms.
Discomfort swathed me. My eyes went to the back of my head, flashing in and out of the vision in front of me and something utterly different.
I staggered back into Dimitri. Then, in a flash, everything faded away.
Something else was there. Images that flickered in and out of focus, of a figure. I was seeing out of the eyes of the man in front of me, that's how it had to be. And he was looking at a beautiful girl as she stood with a tall figure that looked just like Marcus, the apathetic immortal who was Aro's companion. This Marcus was different though. He looked—happy.
The image changed, but blurred. I heard a muffled voice, Aro's own, say, "I understand, sweet one. I would do the same for Sulpicia. You know I'd give anything your heart desires, Didyme. And Marcus, my dearest friend, you deserve the same happiness—"
The voice disappeared, the black dissolved, and I saw from Aro's eyes again. Didyme, the beautiful girl who apparently had Marcus's heart, was strikingly beautiful. One smile could sway the darkest of hearts. Her and Marcus were deeply in love—and I felt Aro's hate. His desperation. His appetite for power. The deceit that went into his blessing.
The scenery became a battle. Immortals were fighting, going at each other like dogs, except for two who acted like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Aro stood in front of Didyme, who had an unknowing smile on her face. Her muffled voice, sweet like candy, inquired what he needed. No one was watching; the others were occupied with the fight. In a shocking twist of who I thought she was, she put her hand on his arm and called him "brother".
I watched in horror from Aro's eyes as he reached forward and detached the girl's head from her shoulders. He left in a blur. The last thing I heard was someone roar in mourning.
Suddenly, I was ripped violently out of the memory.
I gasped and staggered back, catching the sight of Dimitri pulling Aro away. He'd been the one to separate our palms.
Holy fuck, I thought. That was one of his memories. A memory I could hear, see, and feel. Aro tried to use his Gift on me—and I used it against him instead.
It took seconds for me to comprehend the weight of what I saw. Why I saw it, out of all his memories.
It was his greatest regret—and the only person he ever truly loved. I felt his remorse as he killed her. The only thought in his head was, It's for the best. The greater good was not pleasant.
Aro began to laugh. His laugh was like a dark cackle.
"Tell me, dear, what did you see?" When he looked at me, his eyes glinted. He was daring me to say it aloud.
I wanted to. Especially when I looked behind me at Marcus and saw how expressionless he was. He was like a walking zombie. Aro did that to him. I was sure the only reason he stayed was because of one of Aro's recruited talents—Chelsea. I'd bet money on it.
I met Aro's eyes evenly. "Your greatest regret—and your greatest deception."
Aro sneered at me. He knew exactly what I was referencing, even if the others in the room puzzled over my cryptic words.
In the midst of his anger, I wondered how it was possible to ricochet his, Jane's, and Dante's Gifts when Dakota only ever deluded me. The one time his Gift failed was that time when I was half awake; I thought I had fallen asleep and that was the reason the illusion fell apart. But now, it was quickly becoming clear me and my father were wrong. That wasn't what made it fail.
It failed because I knew it was an illusion. It happened after I was informed by my father exactly what Dakota's Gift was. Any other time I did not know what threat I was under; the few times I ricocheted Gifts were times I was lucid. I knew what was happening before it happened—and I knew the intentions of my foes were unfriendly.
This Gift would not reach full potential or achieve clarity until I was Changed.
That would never happen.
Aro's hand darted forward again, and a breeze gusted my hair back; I watched in alarm as the white-haired vampire appeared and stopped Aro's arm where it was.
"She's an adversary," he said to Aro with a sharpened glare. "A threat. Her and her father can't be left alive."
Fear flooded me, fucking flooded me. Aro's face went flat in contemplation.
"Yes, I suppose you're right," he said in agreement.
I regretted making my decision obvious before it could even occur. I sealed my fate—sealed my father's. Aro wouldn't show mercy now that he knew that I knew something that had the potential to destroy him.
Aro reached for me again; I flinched away, not prepared to die. But a voice froze us all.
"Wait."
It was Alice. Her voice was calm and level.
Aro looked over at her with a smile. "Yes?"
Alice glanced at me. "Would you reconsider if I were to tell you there's someone we know who could replace the memory fragments in Richard's head?"
Aro eyed her contemplatively. "Yes, on one condition." He paused for dramatic effect. "I require Alissa to make the Change when she comes of age. She's not eighteen yet, is she? She looks quite young."
He looked at me, obviously wanting a verbal answer.
I swallowed and said, "I'm sixteen. My birthday's in October."
"Yes, wonderful," Aro said smilingly. "So, on your eighteenth birthday, I expect you to think your options over more carefully—and make the right decision. For now, I will leave your father alive, but next time I may not be so... merciful."
I wordlessly nodded, too afraid to protest.
"She's a liability," Marcus said flatly.
"Richard killed three of the Guard," the white-haired one hissed.
Aro held his palm up, and they silenced.
He eyed Bella now. Me and my father were all but forgotten. "Now, what to do with you... "
I tuned the rest of it out. His voice became a grumble, and the responses of Bella and Edward did too.
Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered because I was set to die. In just a year and a half Aro would come for me—and I'd have no choice but to obey, unless I wanted to die.
I didn't know how look I stood there, being smothered by my own despair.
I aroused from my daze when a dainty hand touched my shoulder. I looked over and saw it was Alice.
She motioned at the door. We were free to go.
I couldn't get away fast enough. I didn't even care as I left my Dad to the hounds, walking briskly for the door. Felix held it open, watching me inconspicuously. There was something morbid about his glare.
As I walked out, he smirked. His nostrils flared like he was taking a whiff of something aromatic.
As I escaped the room, I felt my walls tumble down. Everything was far too much.
Alice's hand appeared on my shoulder again; I barely felt it. She led me back from where I came, to the lobby area that housed Gianna—the human who didn't fear death.
I'm not becoming one of them.
No, fuck no. I'll fucking kill myself before that happens.
He can watch me as I slit my own fucking throat.
I'll destroy his relationship with Marcus. I'll let that fucker know what Aro did to him.
He's not getting me, not getting my humanity. No, no, no.
Even as I thought my threats, I knew I didn't have it in me to end my own life. I knew they would come for me, as promised. I knew I was fucked.
The clock was ticking—and October 25th, 2007 was the date.
A/N: I thought I should give you a list of my vampire OCs and their Gifts, so you can come back here if you ever forget or get confused.
Dakota – astral projection
Roman – mental inducement
Cade – command telepathy/mental manipulation
Aurelia (Cade's wife) – psychic surgery/nerve reassignment
Dante – psychokinesis
Now, many of the events and setting details in here don't come from the film, if it wasn't obvious. Chelsea is a book character who has the power of relationship manipulation; her power is the reason Aro has such a tight leash on his coven. Afton (Chelsea's mate) is another book character I pulled. He's a good friend of Cade's. The memory Alissa saw when Aro touched her was of him killing his sister, Didyme, after it became clear she and Marcus were going to leave the Volturi, if you're not familiar with book-only details. I will say Alissa's potential vampiric Gift would not be a psychic shield but the word "ricochet" should give you a hint. Hopefully you all see exactly what made Dakota such a "loyal dog" knowing Chelsea's existence. He wasn't always so... submissive.
School has been stressing me out & I'm an impulsive, unhappy bitch. It's made writing hard. That's why both chapters are ass.
I know this story sucks but it's one of the only things I have fun doing, so I'm sorry if you dislike it :( I'll try and make the Eclipse arc 10x more romantic and entertaining!
Bye guys! Y'all rock
