New York
The fog from his eyes cleared as he started to wake up slowly. Coughing twice, he sat up and looked around dazed unsure of his surroundings. When he saw the murderous glare from Jane and the thirst for vengeance in Donovan's, he froze pale as snow, with pure terror in his eyes. The boy was going to die, painfully and slowly.
"We are going to play a fun game called truth or torture. You will answer our questions and if we don't like your response, my darling sister here has been a little stressed since you tried to kill her and needs to let of a little steam. Choose wisely," Alec explained. The boy crossed his arms, face attempting to be serious and nodded. Jane noticed how in an odd way the boy always seemed to default to smiling, even when he tried to hide it. Had the situation been different, he would have seemed charming and possibly charismatic. An energetic, giddy child. The friend in the group who always was looking on the bright side and thinking happy thoughts. An odd semi-crazed impish glee in his dark eyes.
"First question should be an easy one. What is your name?"
"Hadley. But now I go by Pete."
"Are there more of you?"
"Kiss my ass". A fit of screaming that lasted a couple of seconds as his heartbeat seemed to skip a beat, bouncing like a racketball. No, sir, there are not.
"Why did you plot treason against the Volturi?"
The boy's lips quivered, twitching into a smile before bubbling out a fit of mad laughter. Jane unleashed her gift, leaving him screaming for five seconds, his heartbeat exploding erratically like gunfire leaving his chest on fire. Jane oddly enjoyed watching his vitals spasm and panic, not knowing what was happening to his body. It was something she missed seeing, since she normally only tortured the undead. Alec asked the question again. More chocked out sobbing laughter as Jane left him burning. It was an ice cold laugh that sounded so familiar.
"Why did you plot treason against the Volturi?"
Jane was sick of this pattern and grabbed her lighter. "Donovan, how about a little revenge for Moira?" All he heard was a constant high pitched ringing in his ears and warbled lower pitched grumble of someone maybe speaking. His hearing still was not functional, but he understood Jane's twisted smile and excitement as she handed his the lighter. The twins held the black haired boy down, careful to pull their sleeves over their hands to not make skin on skin contact, as Donovan flicked the lighter on. Tracing the flame slowly on the boy's arms, catching the thin hairs and long sleeve shirt on fire, Jane watched in sick fascination as the skin boiled and melted while strangely smelling like vampires flesh, the worst of both worlds. The skin healed itself in minutes. Donovan wanted to keep going, to do worse, but Alec stopped him.
The boy still was chuckling to himself. "Oh Donovan, my old friend. It's refreshing to see you filled with so much fire and power. Given you are just as damned as I. Listen close Jane, your new lover here isn't even remotely close to a saint. Oh had he been living in Ancient Rome in the time of his crime, he would have been immediately blindfolded, unworthy of the light, and then taken to the field of Mars outside Rome, stripped of everything then whipped with rods. Then possibly sewed up in a sack, and thrown into the sea. Later in time, to add to the punishment, a serpent could be put in the sack; and still possibly later, an ape, a dog and maybe even a rooster for shits and giggles. For as much as I might deserve to burn I Hell, Donovan will always be several circles deeper!" Donovan did not hear a single word he said, but had he, Donovan might have strangled Hadley with his bare hands and torn him limb from limb. Possibly cried as he lost his temper remembering what he had done. It was something he would never forget. Hadley wished he could forget his faults too. He was sorry for executing Moira, sorry for being the reason so many died. Sorry for existing. He was just so tired of it all and just so, so, so angry.
"Why did you plot treason against the Volturi?"
"I'm really shocked you haven't figured it out yet, Alexander? You always had been one of his favourites," Hadley scoffed, still laughing, on the brink of insanity. "Who's favourite?" Jane asked trying to keep him talking. "Our father's. You see Jane Marie and Alexander, we are one in the same. Aro was your creator and Aro was my father. The one who has spent centuries fawning over you, his delightful little children created out of pride and greed while not giving a flying FUCK about the ones he has created through lust and gluttony!"
Jane was stunned. Aro would never be unfaithful to Sulpicia. He loved her. Why would he sleep with a human?
Why did he plot treason against the Volturi?
He plotted to kill Jane and Alec because he wanted to be noticed by Aro and seen as stronger than his "siblings". Years and years of bitter jealously bubbling over the top. It had ripped him apart not knowing who his father was, with the sick feeling of abandonment his entire childhood. Then one day he noticed the blatant similarities between himself and Aro. They had the same ability and physical resemblance. No matter how much he desired to contact his father, the current Old Pete discouraged him from it. Because it would endanger all of them. They lived their lives hiding their existence from both vampires and humans out of fear and the need to be inconspicuous. But when the Volturi discovered the possibility of conceiving dhampirs, did Aro think about the children he could have accidently created? No, they still were nobodies. So Hadley, trying to be like his father, rose to power. He bent the rules. And most of all he loathed and loathed and loathed. Heart filling with the poison of jealously. It takes pressure to make diamonds.
"So, Alec? Dearest Jane? How would you like to kill your little brother?"
But Jane did not see a brother in front of her. She had two brothers. One safely dead and the other standing next to her. They may share the same creator, but they were not of the same blood. This wasn't her brother. The thing in front of her was a rabid dog that needed to be put to sleep. The sanity was as absent as the guilt and remorse for his attempt to kill her real brother. This thing was past redemption. This thing deserved this.
Jane remember Aro teaching her, instructing her as she first learned the power and price of her gift. His cold hands on her small shoulders. The vampire they had brought it was guilty of something. Aro didn't specify. Her master said it shouldn't matter. She was to be the instrument of justice for her masters to wield. She remembered it was difficult to muster the strength to hurt the vampire in front of her. He had not done anything to hurt her or the ones she loved. And yet through gritted teeth and a stiff upper lip she left him burning in his own mind. Aro later told her that the vampire had been an innocent human he had turned a week before purely for her to practice on. The newborn later committed suicide only after a week of Jane's practice sessions. Somehow he had found the strength to rip his own head off. In a way, he was the first vampire she ever killed. She remembered him, even though he had no name, every time he used her gift as an "instrument of justice", as her masters had called it.
The boy crumpled on the ground sobbing as Jane released her power, this time for five minutes. The need to hurt him for what he did to them, leaving them burning in a forsaken subway tunnel, was scarily strong. She had never used her ability that long. It felt good for the first thirty seconds, like a muscle being worked, stretching and strengthening. She felt powerful. Strong. Fulfilled. But soon her fingers started to quiver, her stomach twist, jaw aching from clenching her jaw for so long, eyes sting and burn, head lighten. Then someone grabbed her and hugged her close breaking the trance she had be trapped in. "Stop, that's enough," Alec warned. Donovan let her go from his warm embrace, leaving her feeling tired and empty. Hadley lay still and silent, sprawled on the ground in twisted angles. But on further investigation, Jane realized that the body was missing something. A pulse. She had killed him with her mind. He had gone into cardiac arrest just after the three minute mark. It was over. They could go home now.
Before they left, Donovan made sure the burn the body. Just in case, he told them not clarifying. If they were going to kill their brother, they should only have to do it once. The tunnel was quickly filled with smoke, but Donovan stayed long enough to watch the now old Old Pete burn. Like Moira did. Although the chamber had been hotter than the ninth circle of Hell, all three felt colder than ice. It was over.
They arrived back at the underground bunker half an hour until dawn. Many of the kids were celebrating. They had won. Although there had been casualties and deaths, they still won. Five dead was the cost. Five dead children. For a good majority it seemed like fair price if it meant solving the problem. Sisters hugged and brothers wrestled. Kids who looked around five ran down the slicked corridors screaming and laughing. Hadley had laughed too.
Jane excused herself to go shower. The blood on her hands had grown sticky as tar and she was afraid that if she didn't get it off now, she never would. Donovan, having his hearing close to normal now, laughed with old friends, wrestling and drinking. He knew that if he had more than a six pack, Jane would skin him alive. It was odd how much he now cared what she thought of him. Finding the half burnt girl sprawled on the couch seemed like centuries ago. He would pack his bags later that day, but it wouldn't take long since he didn't carry much. A change of clothes, an old family book, and locket was all he had. The twins had asked him to come Italy with them. It would be a fresh start. New York reminded him too much of his sister. They would leave in less than twelve hours. He had never ridden a plane before. Moira and he had journeyed to America by boat, long before planes had been invented. He remembered the rocky voyage from France to New Orleans, the long hungry, dirty, salty months. This would take only several hours. Amazing!
Alec went to go find General Grigbsy. The small girl was found in her office. The room was covered with maps with highlter marks and cloured in boundaries of different countries (he also made a mental note to memorize the maps and redraw them later) and pictures of random kids. A computer from the 90's was the only light source. Books, lots of books. There was a cozy feeling to it but also a lonely one. The blankets in the corner indicated she slept her too. "I trust he is dead?" was all she said looking up from her desk. It was a simple question. And it deserved a simple answer. "Yes".
"Good. Your family has done us a great service and I hope that in the future we can remain great services to each other. Everyone outside this office would say we lost five kids. I say we lost dozens. It doesn't matter which side you stood in that park, death is still death. No one should have died. The whole reason I established myself as a leader was not to lead a war, but to lead peace."
Her stormy, cold blue eyes held steady and calm with a twinge of sadness. Alec realized that he never once saw her smile. Always a mask of composure. Her mouse coloured hair tied in a tight neat bun. Grey uniform of an ash colored military pea coat, black V-neck, charcoal cargos with rips over the knees. Black muddy combat boots with a knife strapped to her skinny thigh. Small pursed chapped lips. Slim angular body. She could pass for a ten year old boy if she cropped her hair short. The scars on her face and circles under her eyes were the best makeup she could ever hope for. And yet Alec still acknowledged that she was indeed beautiful.
"No, thank you. We needed your help as much as you needed ours. I personally will ensure that our Masters work to uphold the newly created peace. I think that what you are trying to do is amazing. It was an honor to serve with you."
Grisgby nodded, "I appreciate the gratitude and acknowledgement. I just want to keep us dhampirs safe from both vampires and humans."
"I was curious. If we are to possible come across a dhampir who needed a safe place to stay, how should he contact you?"
Grigbsy raise one slender eyebrow, but didn't press Alec for more. They both understood privacy. She riffled in her desk and pulled out a sticky note. Covering the writing with her hand, she scribbled a couple notes before folding it in half. Tucking it into an envelope and sealing it, she handed it to Alec.
"One more question before I leave. I'm guessing Grigsby was your father's name, but what is your real name?"
The girl's face fell as she looked down. "Grigsby was my mother's surname. My real name is Clara Rose Jackson."
"Grigsby is a prettier name. Suits you better".
General Grigsby smiled.
Volterra
It was December 22 and finally all the guests had left. The children ran upstairs bubbling with energy. Aro had been cooped up in his room, not talking to anyone, even his wife, so he had not yet ordered anyone to take the decorations from the Winter Ball down. The halls glittered with rich reds, glorious gold, and warm whites. Tastes of tinsel and wraps of wreathed. It was like the entire palace was covered in Christmas. The Christmas tree in the Main Hall was at least 20 metres tall! And there were presents. Olivia was sad she couldn't open any of them until Christmas. Looking out the misty window panes, a light dusting of snow covered the plaza and courtyard the children had bolted to like moth to a flame. Marina gasped feeling the odd white substance. IT WAS SO COLD! Felix, use to the cold, grabbed a handful and threw it a Demetri, pegging him in the face. Demetri was not amused, but relented when Marina, giggling her jingle bell laughter, tried to throw one at him also, running away quickly, hiding behind on of the statues. She had grown another inch and now looked almost seven. It was always shocking to Demetri when he realized the sudden age jumps. His baby girl was growing up. Felix, Demetri, Tiago, Marina, and after a little persuading Heidi spent the evening playing in the whisper of snow.
Olivia was able to enjoy spending time with her favorite aunties, Chelsea, Sulpicia and Athenodora. The two women spent the night teaching her deferent Christmas carols on the old piano. Throughout the long years of staying in the castle, both had devoted a good amount of their time to learning to play instruments in order to entertain their husbands. Angel voices sang classics such as "God Rest Ye Mary Gentlemen", "Three Ships," and "The Little Drummer Boy". Olivia was just happy that she finally found something that she was better at than her siblings. Music.
When the sun finally set, Marcus spent the evening wandering the plaza, appreciating the twinkling lights, the decorated clock tower, numerous shops adorned with holly and evergreen. The fountain had frozen partially and a young couple stood on the rim with misty breathes and cups of hot chocolate from the local café. Young children ran throwing snowballs and building snowmen. Much like Marina and Tiago, and of course that child at heart Felix. Marcus realized the only thing separating them was the giant hedge and sunlight. Other children surrounded the toy shop window, staring at toy soldiers and china dolls. "Enzo, move your fat face. I want to see the tank," a school boy whined standing on his tip toes, trying to see around a small dark haired boy with blue eyes. "Fine," the boy politely moved, sulking away from the crown of children. It was late and Mama wanted him home anyway. Marcus followed him, curios. This was Damien's cousin. The boy led him, skipping and humming carols to himself, to a small apartment building. A young woman with dark hair and a smile lines open the door scolding him for being late, but wrapping him in a blanket while kissing his rosy cheeks. A dog barked as the boy ran inside. The house smelled of gingerbread and rich spices. It smelled warm. Human even. Marcus walked back to the palace humming the same tune the boy had been humming.
"Venite Fedeli, l'angelo ci invita,
venite, venite a Betlemme.
Nasce per noi Cristo Salvatore.
Venite adoriamo, venite adoriamo,
venite adoriamo il Signore Gesù.
La luce del mondo brilla in una grotta;
la fede di guida a Betlemme.
La notte resplende, tutto il mondo attende:
seguiamo i pastori a Betlemme.
Il Figlio di Dio, Re dell'universo,
si è fatto Bambino a Betlemme.
"Sia gloria nei cieli, pace sulla terra",
un angelo annunzia a Betlemme."
Joan set the oven to 177 degrees. She was only making a small batch of cookies. But what was Christmas without cookies? Taking a sip of peppermint hot chocolate, she didn't hear the little pitter footsteps of Damien entering the kitchen. The sound of the fridge opening, startled her making her nearly drop the wooden mixing spoon into the dough. Swearing and laughing at her lack of coordination, she invited the small boy to help her make the cookies. After pour the contents of the blood bag into a mug and microwaving it, he hopped on the counter and looked at the recipe book. It was in Italian and although a simple recipe, Joan had misinterpreted the instructions and added the wrong things. Why would you add mayonnaise to shortbread? It was worth a good laugh. He had for the most part healed since the "incident" with Aro and Caius two days ago. His side was still achy, but the wound had closed up completely and without infection. The muscles had been damaged, which made walking and sitting up nearly impossible for a couple hours, and he had lost a lot of blood, but none of his organs. He'd live.
Dumping the concoction into the rubbish bin, they started the recipe over. It was fun cutting the dough out into shapes of angels, trees, stars, and small men. Setting the cookies in the oven, Joan teasingly scolded Damien as he licked the spoon. "You are going to get sick," Joan brushed his bangs off his forehead giving him a mothering look. Damien smiled as Joan swiped a finger across the bowl and licking the raw batter off her finger signaling she was kidding.
Yesterday Joan had asked Aro through the locked door of his chamber if she could take Christmas Eve off to go to Christmas Vigil at Santo Marcus. He had said, yes whatever. Just leave me alone. Every year she went to Christmas Vigil, at first it had been with her family, then it became just her brother. Now she was alone. Perhaps she could take Damien with her. The boy could easily sit quietly for two hours. Maybe even the DeLeale's would be there? Joan liked Eliza and maybe the family would like some of the cookies they had baked? The idea of bringing a child that was half vampire to church made her smile.
Damien enjoyed spending this time with Joan. When the children had gazed in wonder at the Christmas tree this afternoon, the three younger ones all found multiple presents with their names on them. Damien was old enough (or rather mature enough given he was only a couple months old) to politely not question it, but it still stung to know that his family wasn't here and that he was alone. He had also looked and saw that Joan had no presents either. They both were alone in a way. Maybe he could find something around the Building to give her as a present or he could sneak out to get her a present?
After Joan had left to complete her daily duties, Damien meandered his way to the courtyard. Noticing Demetri too was preoccupied dodging snowballs to notice his presence, Damien slipped slyly to his favorite gap in the hedges, emerging in the human world. The streets were aglow with Christmas time and joy. Ignoring the biting cold, he retraced his way to the main plaza. The shops would be closing soon, but he knew he wouldn't be out here long. It was risky sneaking out of the Building alone, and his heart was already racing with anxiety. But that was probably just a result of the incident with Aro and Caius. But it was for a good cause. He wanted to get something nice for Joan so she would be happy on Christmas morning. He hated seeing her so sad and lonely.
Walking slowly, or just normal human pace, he glanced quickly at the different store windows trying to find something she might like. She use to have this china doll of Marie Antoinette as a little girl. It was a present from her father and use to be one of her most valuable possessions. She use to take it everywhere and treated it with an amazing amount of care for a small child. After her parents died, random family friends came in and packed up their small apartment. In the bustle, the doll was swiftly packed and was founded in shards when the box was opened. Like her heart. He didn't know how he knew this about her, but it helped him decided where to get the gift. Glancing over his shoulder for the twentieth time, he jogged to the toy store.
The china doll was not the same as the one he envisioned, but he knew Joan would love it. The doll looked like a proper young lady with dark curls down to her waist adored with ribbons, shiny blue eyes, and rosy cheeks on white ceramic, a violet and black Victorian style gown with three quarter sleeves and five petty coats, black knit stockings with shiny black shoes. It was a pretty doll. He could see her gasping opening the box in shock, then covering her hands with her face, hiding her happiness and emotions in embarrassment to act like a giddy school girl. She would take it out of the tissue paper lined box and-.
A cold, stony hand clamped on his shoulder making his heart stop for a split second. "What are you doing outside of The Building? You are not allowed to be outside!"
Damien spun around, ready to bolt out of instinct, but relaxed when he realized it was only Marcus. His tone was angry, but Damien could tell he only felt concerned. Damien had been so caught up in imagining Joan happy, that he had let his guard down and gotten caught. He was in trouble now. "I said, what are you doing outside?" Marcus was calmer. Damien sighed and answered him, "I wanted to get a Christmas present for Joan so she would not feel so sad and alone on Christmas, because no one should feel sad and alone on Christmas."
Marcus sensed that the relationship between Joan and Damien had grown significantly and that the boy was telling the truth. "And how are you going to get this 'present'? I assume you have no money in your personal possession. And stealing is considered a crime in both the mortal and immortal world."
Damien felt his cheeks grow warm. He hadn't though that far. Pausing now he realized Marcus was right. It was a faulty plan and he risked his safety for a quest that could not be completed. "I do not know sir," Damien mumbled embarrassed, looking down at his toes. Marcus looked away from the child and looked at the window. His eye caught the lady in the violet and black dress. "You are right about one thing, and one thing only tonight. No one should feel sad and alone on Christmas."
The boy and Marcus walked hand and hand, with a red box tucked under Marcus' arm, back to the Building. When Caius demanded to know why Damien was outside, Marcus calmly responded saying he accompanied Damien the entire time and gave his permission as a fellow leader of the Volturi. "You had no right!" Caius growled. "Are you implying you are of a higher status than me, Brother? Last I checked we were of the same standing and co-leaders and founders of this family." Marcus raised one eye brown, scolding Caius like a whiny child.
Yes, he was lying to Caius. Yes, Damien should be in trouble for escaping without permission and un-accompanied. But, it was the first time he had seen the boy act selfishly for the sake of someone he loved. Marcus wished to encourage and support that kind of behavior. Yes, Joan was a human but she was the one who helped Damien feel human and connect with others. She was a good influence on him and had helped him breakout of his shell. It was a good healthy relationship in his opinion. And Damien had been right before and Marcus too needed to listen to him. Nobody should be sad and be alone on Christmas.