Author(s) note: Hey we would just like to apologize for such a late delivery of chapters. Our flash drive with about 5 different chapters was stolen. We are going to be slowly rewriting our stories. Happy Thanksgiving to all you Americans! And well happy normal day to everyone else in the world! Yes, America, other countries exist besides you. Also we just realized had been shut down which had loads of other fun and about 10 other stories we hoped to publish on here as well. If you know TeamOctober from …it's still us.
Love,
Tory, Tristan & Mogul 3
"Ten!"
Jane lunged on top of Harper, quickly covering her mouth to keep her from screaming and giving away their location. They were so close, she wasn't going to waste this golden opportunity because two children got in their way. Harper screaming, thrashed, writhed, clawed, and even bit Jane's hand, trying to break free and rescue her baby brother. Her human half have been replaced by an animal, desperate and afraid. Time was running out. The small girl just clung on to the halfing, praying for a miracle. Jane could try burning him, but it risked the dhampir somehow pulling the trigger on accident when his muscles started spasm. Plus the screaming would draw attention.
"Nine!"
"Shit", Donovan hissed through bared fangs. Turquoise eyes locking on scarlet in a silent agreement. They needed to come up with a new plan. Donovan couldn't let Echo die because of them. Slowly the two boys crept below to the girls, avoiding being seen by possible scouts. Alec's mind whirred and spun like the winter storm that hand begun to rage in the night sky above. The wind seemed to claw and bite, a hound smelling a fresh kill. The thunder was a war drum, preparing for battle, the snow shot gun shells and ammunition. Moving like shadows, Alec tried to think of a new plan. The dhampir holding the gun only mentioned Donovan and Harper. Maybe they didn't know Jane and him were there. He could use this to their advantage. Alec knew what he needed to do. Jane was going to kill him… that is if he didn't kill himself.
"Eight!"
Jane nearly had a heart attack when two figure melted out of the shadows. Ready to release her dark gift on her ambushers. When she saw it was just Donovan and Alec she almost sighed with relief, but even the slightest noise such as breathing could alert their enemy. Donovan held up his arms in surrender. Gesturing with charades and hand motions, he let Harper know to relax and if she kept quiet and calmed down Jane would let her go. Harper nodded and Jane slowly released her. All the while Harper kept her eyes locked on her little brother who knelt in the snow, half-conscious and bleeding.
"Seven!"
Alec focused, taking slow controlled breaths, feeling the familiar cold tingle in his palms. He needed his Mist and a lot of it. Using the dark alley shadows and dark storm clouds above as camouflage, he imagined the Mist growing, building, accumulating. The warehouse was four stories tall, about 100 metres by 250 metres. Given the number of heart beats about 75 people inside. Already he felt the strain of creating such a large amount of Mist. His abdomen felt like one of those red, foam stress balls, being clenched until it was almost nothing. His skin felt like a thin layer of ice clothed him. Before, he only ever really had to make enough to fill a room or possibly a coven if they were grouped together. Not this.
"Six!"
Jane in response hand theatrical hand gestures saying that they needed to attack, charge the enemy square on. Harper only responded with her middle finger and a glare. Donovan was trying to keep the two girls from strangling each other. Harper suggested that she give herself up in exchange of her brother. Donovan knew that wasn't an option. He knew that once they got her hands on her, they would torture her for any information possible before executing her for treason. Just like Moira. He kept that part to himself.
"Five! We are losing our patience!"
Upon hearing that Echo's eyes snapped open and he began struggling against the older dhampir. Tears flowed down his face, freezing once they left his cheek. The blizzard burned his eyes and he couldn't see where Harper had been hiding. Maybe she wasn't coming, he was going to die. He just wanted to be like Donovan, cool, courageous, exciting. He had looked up to him like an older brother. Now he was going to die here in the snow on thanksgiving night, all because he wanted to grow up and act like an adult.
"Four!"
Jane noticed Alec had stood statue still, staring at the sky for a long time. Then she saw the Mist. His eyes flicked down quickly as he took a shaky breath. Their eyes met for a second, his filled with fire, Jane's with an ice cold feeling. Gritting her teeth, she knew what the new plan was now. "Harper, get ready to grab Echo and run. I don't care how far, but just run and don't stop," Jane ordered. Harper nodded. Things were going to change tonight. Tables would be flipped, tides turned.
"Three!"
"Ready?" Jane breathed in Donovan's ear before grasping his hand. It felt like it was on fire against her ice. His was shaking, she could feel the adrenaline pumping through every capillary, oxygen trough his arteries, fire through his veins. She adored her mask of control and regality. Her small legs tightened as she got ready to sprint.
"Two!"
There was no going back. It was now or never.
"One!"
Alec felt as if he was conducting a symphony. Raising his hands and lowering them, ordering the Mist to do his bidding, he was their general. The shadows led the change, a Calvary rushing to the frontlines. The captor dropped the gun as his senses drained away. The Mist parachuted from the sky, bombing the building in a split second, choking away its life like English ivy to a cedar. Harper was already gone with Echo. Jane yelled, "Come on Alec let's go!" She couldn't leave him. In response, he collapsed to his knees, eyes going in and out of focus until they were replace with a feral light that made a rabid dog seem tame. "GO!" he growled in a deep voice that sounded complexly foreign to him. His finger clawed the ground, holding on for dear life. He needed to hang on, even for just a couple minutes. Just a couple minutes. Couple minutes. Minutes. Minutes. Minutes. Min-
Donovan half dragged Jane, both protected from the Mist with his mental shield. Once the entered it, the world seem to shift, becoming darker and grotesque. Everything was frozen in time while being tinted in this odd indigo shade. They entered the building to find the first floor full of children, statutes as they played marble on the floor. Others seemed to be enjoying a pumpkin pie and fighting over a whip cream can. Three boys stood in a red ring, perhaps sparing or training. A girl stood facing a target with an arrow notched in a silver bow. A teen boy and a girl stood with his hands on her waist as they kissed. All of them looked like dolls or mannequins, too perfect and inhumanly beautiful, with dull eyes that seemed to follow them as they desperately raced trying to find the Old Pete and whoever was serving him. Nothing
They searched the second floor which seemed to be the sleeping quarters, with sleeping bags and sleeping dhampirs littered everywhere. But they looked dead through the Mist. Again nothing. The third floor only held books and three or so dhampirs reading or working on school work. They climbed the stairwell to the fourth and final floor.
When they reached the doorway to the fourth floor, Donovan stopped. "I can't go up there," he choked out. Jane's eyebrows knit together in confusion. His skin was pale and clammy, nausea rolled in his stomach. Jane saw the Mist ripple as he extended his shield for her to search the fourth floor alone. Looking into his fear stricken eyes, she began searching the final floor.
It contained mainly storage, a boiler room and all the safety gas valves and pipes. The assorted random furniture reminded her of a haunted forest with skeletal trees, paintings were predators watching her, and Jane just told herself she was spooking herself out. It was all in her mind. That was until she saw HER.
The girl in front of Jane was dead. There was no denying it. The body was charred and blacked. You could still smell the burning flesh, not one of a vampire, but one of a human. The eyes, once a luminescent green, not seemed to be made of glass. The girl was petite and slim, the scorched rope around her made her look like a doll. The girl's hair, not unlike Jane, was a dark blonde that seemed to be blowing in the wind. It was then Jane noticed that that was the only movement in the building.
And that wasn't even the creepiest part for Jane. The girl stood above a pile of firewood and ashes, bound to a stake. In the ash read "MOIRA O'MALLEY THE WITCH". Moira, as in Donovan's friend. His friend who was burned at the stake. His "friend" who happened to share the same last name. Jane stood petrified as two pale, strong arms wrapped around her. She heard agonized sobs and realized Donovan was not comforting her, but comforting himself. "I'm going to fucking kill him," Donovan barely whispered, voice full of trauma and shattered glass. "I'm GOING TO FUCKING KILL HIM!" This time Donovan screamed, now filed with vengeance and fire. Without thinking he smashed a chair that was lying on the ground. He threw a vase against the wall, crushing a gas pipe. He kept throwing and breaking things until Jane pinned his arms to his side from behind. "Stop! I understand your pissed about your girlfriend or wife or mate or whatever dying. But now is not the time! The Old Pete must have just fled and we can still find a scent to trail. Alec doesn't have much longer before he loses it. So if you're done with your little hissy fit, LET'S GO!" Jane felt him give up. "But we are taking her with us. She deserves a proper burial," His voice cracked. "I think I know what would make you feel a little better. How would you like to torch this hell hole?" Jane cooed. This was a chance for a counter attack, to make themselves known that the Volturi was still powerful and to be feared. They didn't give second chances. Turning back to look at Moira, she swore the witch was smiling at her. Jane shuddered. Their appearances were just too similar.
The gas pipe was already compromised, but it didn't hurt to break all the others. Donovan still felt like breaking things. Jane went into the library and ripped out page after page of random books in a frenzy, Paradise Lost, Frankenstein, Prometheus, Jane Eyre, Wide Sargasso Sea, the titles didn't matter as they rained down on the people below. Donovan had run down to the second floor and grabbed a spare sleeping bag to carry Moira in. Jane was happy when the face was covered. Donovan jumped out the fourth story window to the snow below, Moira cradled in his arms. The Mist had begun to fade. Alec's power now dwindling as the dhampirs seemed to wake from a long slumber, unaware of everything that had transpired.
Jane stood, lighter in hand. She wanted to do this herself. She wanted them to burn, like she burned in that Hell Forsaken subway tunnel. It seemed like months ago, not a week. Looking over the railing below to the first floor, she felt like a queen. Her chin high, face composes, back straight. She was now their queen. The dolls below slowly started coming to life, stunned as they looked up towards her. "Greetings, a week ago my family was attacked. Now I attack yours. Now You Burn!" She laughed slightly unhinged as she threw her lighter below, as it ignited the gas filled air. Her subjects burned below her, screaming in panic, children crying, chaos everywhere. Just like the subway tunnel. Jane smiled before following Donovan out the window.
"I caught his scent. They aren't far." Donovan said quickly as Jane landed next to him. "Great, let's grab Alec and run," Jane felt amazing. The heat of the building was blistering. Yet somehow the storm had stilled above to a clear starless night. It was the only calm around.
Jane ran to the alley way where they had just been not five minutes before. She found a figure laying in the snow, sprawled like a marionette whose strings had been violently cut. Alec. She tried shaking him, nothing. His eyes were darker than a black hole, his skin was like touching dry ice, his entire body was frightenily still, even for a vampire. Parts of his arms and legs seemed to smoking, touching them her hand went right through them like a magic trick. He had become shadow. He had become Mist. "Alec? Alec! ALEC!"
Volterra
Aro was in a decorating frenzy. The winter ball was in two weeks. It was now officially the holiday season. A five metre tall tree now glowed in the main lobby with silver and red ordainments, white twinkling lights, and matching silver star was at the top. He loved Christmas. Caius swore to rip out anyone's lunges if they dared sign a single Christmas carol, which prompted Athenodora to start screaming jingle bells in his face at the top of her lunges like a preschooler. The problem was solved with Aro quickly holding mistletoe over the two mates. Maybe Caius could tolerate Christmas.
Didyme and Damien were talking almost every day now and had become friends of some sorts. Damien finally understood why Marcus missed having her near him. Her power of filling others with happiness was still evident even in death. When he was with her, the bruises from Caius or sparing or whatever seemed to not exist. He no longer felt isolated and alone. Like he was a freak. He didn't have to think about Jane or Alec, if anything she gave him closure. Eventually two more ghosts became visible to him. Both had been immortal children that Aro had created as an experiment. One was a girl named Claudia who was five and the other was Sven who was six. It now seemed almost natural to talk to ghosts. Whether it was to get Sven to stop running around the hallways screaming "WoooooOOOOOOooOoooOOOOO!" like a stereotypical ghost or getting Claudia to stop pulling pranks on Joan. Like shifting her cup of tea every now and then or stealing her papers. Somehow Claudia was able to make tangible contact with items in the mortal world. Sven guessed it was because she had a gift when she was still alive. Damien did convince Claudia to change the victim of her antic from Joan to Olivia and Chelsea. Every now and then Claudia would go into Olivia's room and rearrange all her dolls or rearrange all the clothes in Chelsea's closet. Just enough that it made both paranoid about someone sneaking into their rooms and touching their stuff.
Damien had to bite back laughter when Olivia stormed into class demanding to know who touched her stuff. Everyone shook their heads confused, saying they would never dare go into her territory. "Who knows, maybe your just imagining things Olivia?" Demetri asked rhetorically. It was driving Olivia crazy. Demetri thought that the girl was getting what she deserved for all the times she made fun of everyone else. Now she was the laughing stalk.
Things had gotten better with Combat Training. Felix had decided to incorporate other forms of exercise than just sparring. Now he would have the kids run laps around the garden. Or sometimes he would have them see how many pushups, sit ups, pull ups, and other calisthenics they could do in one minute, which was a surprisingly high number. One day he devoted to seeing who could hold a plank the longest or a wall sit battle. This seemed to be more helpful than the monotonous days of sparring. The kids all improved drastically from their first day of combat training.
Marina was now learning how to fence and would spend hours and hours practicing in the basement of the building. Her arms and legs had become amazingly strong from Felix's additional workouts. Even with the added muscle, she still moved as if she was feather light. Demetri was shocked too how far she come along. Now she seemed to walk with more poise and strength. When Olivia mocked her and bullied her Marina would roll her eyes unafraid. Marina smiled more too, because there was less sparing, she felt accomplished when she was able to beat her own personal record in running a mile or hold a plank thirty seconds longer than before. Her gift had become even more a part of her. Whether it was playing tracking games with her Father, finding where Tiago was so they could "hang out".
Tiago was still failing almost everything in Demetri's class, but Marina suggested that she could tutor him and help him with homework when she had free time. Now he was doing surprisingly well. He had passed every test since she started tutoring him. Of course he would be doing better if he wasn't staring at me at the time, Marina mused to herself. Or joking around. He was constantly making fart jokes and puns. Some were funny, some were just weird. Boys are weird. Whenever he got Marina to laugh, his eyes always seemed to light up and glow with energy and joy.
Even Marcus seemed to be in a happy mood. Ever since Damien told him he could see and talk to Didyme he felt his spirits lift. Like life wasn't meaningless. Like there was hope. He was no longer alone. He spent his nights strumming Didyme's lyre, humming melodies to himself, with every memory of her on constant replay in his head. A mental cinema of love and happiness. It felt as if her presence was still here. Her infectious aura of pure joy radiating everywhere.
The only problem was Aro seemed to notice Marcus' sudden shift of personality. The third leader no longer in a stupor of melancholy and apathy. His eyes seemed to be brimming with life and Marcus at times seemed to be years younger than how he look the past couple of millennia. Whenever the leader asked Marcus what caused this sudden wave of emotions, Marcus would just shrug with this dopey love struck look on his face. This worried Aro. Why was Marcus acting like this? Did he find a new secret mate? Would he try and leave the Volturi again? The happier Marcus got, the more paranoid Aro became.
He started stress decorating because if he were sit on his thrown, stewing in his thoughts, others would be suspicious. He didn't want anyone else knowing about his irrational fears and worries. He would spend hours meticulously arranging the ordainments on the tree, making sure they were all equally spaced apart, all shiny and perfectly round. Were all the lights working? Did he need to replace any of the light bulbs? Was the star on straight? Now he made sure the wreaths were all hung properly. That the poinsettias were watered.
Joan finally spoke up one day, "My lord, I think that plant is going to drown if you keep watering it every five minutes." Aro froze, eye twitching, "Oh silly me, I must be getting batty with old age. Carry on as you were." He proceeded to water the other flower arrangements. Joan continued to watch Aro growing more and more worried. The watering can had been empty for a while and Aro still was watering the plants, now with only air. "Pardon my intrusion, Master, but you seemed stressed and perhaps anxious about something. Is there anything I can help you with?" Joan smiled curious. Aro stopped "watering" the flowers. His brow furrowed. The human, she knew too much as it were. Well he could always tell her and then kill her immediately. But what if someone over heard him speaking with her?
"Miss Joan, have you noticed anything odd going on in the building?" Aro mused. "I work as a secretary for a vampire government, watch innocent humans be drained dry at least once a week otherwise everyone gets fussy, children age a year in less than a month and now live in a foreign country. What is this thing you call odd?" Joan smiled bitterly. Aro laughed without humor. "Have you noticed anything odd, sir?" she prompted. Aro paused, "Well Marcus has been acting odd. He's HAPPY. For no good reason. I have a very important ball to plan and arrange, and now I have to worry about the safety of my household for the first time in a long time. Especially since I now lost two of my favourite collectibles. My guard is under scrutiny after the bombing in New York. Even more scrutiny after the incident last winter with the Cullens. Just the normal worried and fears of being in charge of the world," Aro listed off as if he was reciting a grocery list. "But that's not all. Not really," Joan hinted. Aro clenched his jaw. Oh, she was good. She was very good. "You seem to avoiding people. Your own guards, no your own Family. Even your own wife. Something unnerved you. Ever since you and Caius disciplined Damien," Joan tried to keep her voice aloft. She was swimming in uncharted territory with blood thirsty sharks. "Am I good father?" Aro spit out before he realized it.
Joan was now confused. It was such a random question. Aro didn't know why he even said that. Maybe guilt for Jane and Alec. He remembered how blindly loyal they were, devoted to the end. He missed that. He remembered right after he turned Alec how he tried to be a good father figure for him…even though he almost killed him. Now they both were dead. Some Granddad you are. Damien was Alec's son. A son he forced Alec to have. Not to mention the disaster in the beginning with his first son… "What is Damien's favourite colour?" Aro wanted to prove Marcus wrong. He was a mind reader for Christ's sake! "I am actually not sure. Maybe dark blue or black? It's so hard to understand what goes through that boy's mind at times," Joan was now curious. Maybe she struck a soft spot. Aro felt better. Joan, who seemed shockingly close to the boy, didn't even know his favourite colour.
"Could you please ask Damien to meet me in the throne room in ten minutes? I wish to speak to him privately," Aro asked before leaving Joan alone.