-Chapter 8: Lazarus-

Time had abandoned me. Coherency as well. At first glance, my trip to oblivion was over as soon as it began – like falling asleep and waking up to the bright light of day, there was no time in between. But somehow, it was measurable from the inside. I had been here for a long time, and I would be here for longer, still.

I was lost for what seemed like forever, but like a ship at sea, I eventually washed up on the shore. It's too bad my shore was the metaphorical cast away island.

The transition was immediate. There was no fade to black, slowly fade in – no fluttering of my eyelids – just the sudden shift to consciousness. I took a few breaths and scooted my hands against the floor I was lying on – smooth and cold. I sat up and rotated my head around, trying to get my bearings. Elevator, wide-open space, desk in the middle; this was my office. But it wasn't.

I pulled myself onto my feet and walked to the glass wall nearest me. This wasn't right, this couldn't be right. There was no landscape outside – no skyscrapers or cars or ground or sky. It was all an endless white, as though the glass had been painted over with whitewash. I tilted my head and looked down the pane of glass at an angle. It didn't seem like it was painted on, the subtle green distortion was clearly visible in the thick glass. The window sill outside the window was still visible as well.

I took a step back and looked up at the lights – they were off. Off, and yet everything in my office was lighted and clearly visible. It was an unnatural light, though, and my desk cast no shadow – as though there was no point of origin. I lifted my foot in the air and set it back down – no shadow met it on the ground. What was this, a dream?

I went to the window again and squinted at the abyss outside, pressing my hand to the glass.

"Shit!" I cursed as I shook my hand in pain. The window was hot. Like, molten lava hot.

The sudden pain brought back images of Caius and Felix attacking me. I gasped and my hand shot to my chest, feeling out for the stab wound; there was none. My breathing became frantic as I realized a stab wound wasn't all I couldn't find – my pulse eluded me as well. I put two fingers over my wrist – still no heart beat. I gripped my hair and sunk to my knees. I wasn't a vampire – I had no thirst and my senses seemed to be normal – but I was clinically dead.

"Painful?" A voice questioned from behind me, making me jolt to my feet and turn around. My mouth hung open as I took in the person before me. His six-foot-tall frame stood in a relaxed pose, clothed in jeans and a button-down shirt with a white lab coat that nearly reached the floor. His straight black hair was slicked back, and his olive eyes were framed in his familiar wireless, plastic glasses. "I had no idea we'd be seeing each other so soon."

"Virgil," I whispered, taking a step forward, before stepping back and averting my eyes. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Yes," Virgil said in a clipped tone. He removed his glasses and placed them in his coat pocket as he approached me slowly. I let out a breath and relaxed my shoulders, swaying on my feet slightly. Dr. Stein grasped my shoulders to steady me, and I reluctantly looked up into his eyes. "But you're not gone – not yet."

"What do you mean?" I questioned, knocking his hands away from my shoulders and narrowing my eyes at him. His mind and emotions were completely silent to me. "What is this place, then?" I glanced at the white outside.

"Think of it as a mental cocoon," Virgil replied, moving behind me and placing his hands near the glass. "Your body is dead, but your brain still holds a charge. Your implants are working, Ms. Emily. The changes have already begun."

"You're not real," I said slowly, realizing what Dr. Stein was saying. "I never told you what the implants were for, you only knew I was turning girls into vampires."

"I am real," Virgil countered as he turned to me. "I may be dead, but a part of me lives on through you. When you killed me, some fragments – memories and thoughts – were transferred to you. I may not be the real Virgil Stein, but I am still here. Besides, it wasn't that hard to guess you were planning to turn yourself into a vampire." I nodded at him.

"How long have I been here?" I asked as I moved to my desk, which was completely free of any papers or files. Only the computer remained.

"It's hard to say," Virgil mused. "I only know as much as you do, Ms. Emily."

I nodded again and sat down in the chair. This was all a bit…crazy; even for me. I hadn't expected to still be lucid during my change. It was a simple idea, my plan to change into a vampire. The fires of the transformation that each vampire I'd met shuddered at were an easy obstacle to move around. The human brain – and the vampire one, for that matter – was much like a computer system. One should never try to install a new operating system while still trying to work on the computer – the more logical method would be to shut the computer down, purge the old system, and then install the new one.

My thoughts drifted to my brother, who by now had probably discovered my body – so long as Caius didn't take it with them. Oh god! What if they were planning on ripping me to pieces or burning me? My formula would be able to repair my body and revive me as a vampire, but not if I was in pieces – and certainly not as ash. I shook my head to rid myself of useless thoughts. There was nothing I could do from in here – all I could do was trust in my science and hope luck was on my side.

I clenched my fists as I imagined what I would do to the Volturi for this – especially Caius. Their plan was to kill off my family one by one? Fine, then; I would kill them off one by one. I would make it slow for them, ripping each piece of their body and slowly burning it. Or maybe exile? An immortal vampire hurtling through the vacuum of space sounded excellent – it was the final frontier. Or perhaps the bottom of the ocean? Without any limbs, there would be no way to escape, and no one would ever venture into the depths of the sea floor – no one would find them.

"Planning your revenge?" Virgil asked. A small smirk was on his face as he took two steps toward my desk.

"Yes," I responded curtly. Virgil laughed lightly.

"You're so bloodthirsty; so quick to go to war."

"I gave them a chance!" I nearly shouted. "I never wanted their throne and they still killed me. Of course I will kill them; to not do so would be foolish of me!"

"That's not what I meant," Virgil shook his head at me. "They deserve to die – of that there is no doubt – but I see it in you, Ms. Emily. You won't just kill them; you'll obliterate their entire kingdom. How many innocent people will you kill to prove your point to the Volturi?"

"Get out of my head!" I shouted, slamming my hands down on the desk.

"You first," Virgil quipped, not even slightly afraid of me. "Newborn armies, killing the population of Volterra, exposing vampires to the world. These are not your kinds of plans, Ms. Emily."

"I've never been subtle. I'm a killer, and this is what needs to be done."

"This isn't you, Ms. Emily. You're not like them – at least not yet. You're a killer, but you don't have to be a monster – a tyrant."

I closed my eyes as I was assaulted with the mental image of myself sitting on Aro's throne, red-eyed and merciless, killing any coven that opposed or threatened my rule. I opened my eyes and gasped. Virgil was right.

I had always compared myself to Aro; after all, we were very similar. We both collected powerful abilities and commanded great power – we were both greedy. And though – right now – I was content with my life living with the Cullens, that could all change with the Volturi's fall. Aro had thousands of years to become the twisted man he was today. How would I be after that amount of time? Would I be just as cruel? More so?

"You understand, then?" Virgil asked.

"Yes," I nodded and unclenched my fists. "I will not destroy Aro simply to take his place."

"Good," Virgil folded his arms behind his back and went back to the window, gazing out of it as though there was something to be seen outside besides the endless white.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed in this small piece of hell. The oppressive white that glowed from outside never faded and never grew in intensity, and I had no clock to keep time with. What's worse is that sleep was an impossibility in this place, although I suppose it's just practice for the eternity before me as a vampire.

I glanced at the pieces of computer parts strewn about on the floor in contempt. About a day into my life here I had attempted to log onto it, only to find it would not turn on. I tried to fix it – assuming my ability would make it easy – but like my telepathy, my understanding and aptitude failed me. I had thrown the damn machine at the glass wall in my rage, and only grew angrier when the impenetrable glass stood just as strong as it was before my tantrum – not a scratch.

The door to the fire escape was thoroughly jammed shut, after several hours of trying to pry it open and burning my hands in the process. There was no escape and nowhere to go.

Virgil had laughed at me, cautioning me to stop thrashing about. Cabin fever didn't even begin to cover what I was feeling in here.

Days or weeks later, something changed.

I was lying on my back, staring up at the tiled ceiling, when an echoing snap whispered out through the elevator doors. I jumped to my feet in shock, my mind automatically going over the last time something like that had happened in the elevator – I shuddered in response. The noise grew louder and louder, until an enormous clang shook through the room. It sounded again, and a large dent bubbled out of the closed elevator doors, as though a great force were pushing against them rather than trying to pry the doors open.

"Virgil?" I asked, looking around the room. He was gone! But where did he go? "Virgil!" A metallic wrenching squawked through the doors, and I backed up as far as I could away from the noise. My back hit the glass wall and I flinched away as it burned me.

With a final clang, the elevator doors gave, and an enormous stream of liquid silver flowed through like a fountain, coating the floor with a thick mirrored sheen. I gasped as the liquid mercury spilled into the room. Quickly, I rushed forward and leaped up onto my desk, crouching down and watching as the metal completely flooded the room.

There was nowhere to go!

As if the room wasn't flooding fast enough, the liquid metal seemed to crawl up the legs of the desk, as though it was sentient. If my heart was beating, it could have been heard from the other side of the room. I froze at the thought.

The other side of the room?

That elevator was open now! I had no idea where I would land if I launched myself into the elevator shaft, but it couldn't be worse than slowly drowning in liquid metal. Decided, I grasped the edges of the desk and kicked off, launching as far from the desk as I could. My feet hit the flowing metal and sunk in deep, my momentum carrying me forward until I was on all fours. I struggled to push through the viscous liquid, but it held like molasses. The silver crawled up my skin – a flinchingly cold feeling – and held me in place as the room continued to fill.

"No!" I shouted out as tendrils of the liquid reached my face and started to drip down my throat and into my eyes. I shook my head furiously, gagging as the metal was flung from my face, only for it to be replaced with more.

I heard a cracking sound, then, through my muffled ears. I looked toward the noise to find the windows cracking, slowly, as though a great pressure was being exerted on them. And maybe there was, but my mind was occupied by trying not to drown and suffocate.

There was a crashing, bursting sound, like a car crash. And the heat! The windows weren't the things that were burning me, I only just figured out; they were keeping the heat from coming inside. But they had just shattered, and the white-hot inferno that was contained outside was allowed free reign on my trapped body.

The darkness swirled around me and I had the strangest sensation of falling toward the sky, of being pulled or sucked into the heavens. As I got higher and higher, the agonizing burning grew cooler and cooler, until everything stopped moving and I opened my eyes.

I sucked in a breath as I blinked furiously, but the darkness remained. A distant, encompassing rustling sound could be heard, and the strong smell of pine and decay made me scrunch up my nose. Was I back? Did I make it, or was this just another level of purgatory? The thought was cut short by an ache in my throat. I swallowed, but the ache only spiked in pain before dulling back to its consistent level. I was thirsty. I was a vampire. But why couldn't I see?

I sat up – or, I tried to sit up. My head and shoulders crashed through a layer of wood above me and my mouth was filled with the taste of dirt. I coughed and gagged, trying to spit it out, but the flowing granules continued to pour in. Understanding came to me at once. I was buried! This was my grave and my coffin. I laughed at the thought of a vampire crawling out of their own grave, then immediately regretted it as landslide of dirt slid down my throat. I snapped my mouth shut and tried not to cringe at the gritty sound of dirt between my teeth.

I took a metaphoric breath and raised my arms through the pine box and into the mass of dirt above me, searching for air. I spread my fingers wide and pulled my body up through the soil a few feet. My eyes blinked as I squinted through the blackness, searching for any speck of light. I pulled up again, and tiny blobs of light filtered through the grains. Frantically, I kicked and clawed and squirmed, swimming upward and finally breaking the surface of the earth. I pulled my body out of the collapsing sink hole and rolled to the side, eyeing the cloudy sky.

I turned my body over onto all fours and heaved, my abdominal muscles contracting as they expelled the soil from my stomach and throat. I spit onto the pile of upchucked dirt, watching it sizzle as my venom burned through it.

With blinding speed, my body righted itself and suddenly I was standing upright, looking down at my own grave. I crouched down and traced my fingers over the engraving.

"Emily Mara Ambrose," I read in a surprisingly clear voice. I considered smashing the tombstone to pieces, but decided to leave it as a monument to the old Emily.

I stood and breathed in deeply, catching the rich scents of the forest around me. A smile graced my face.

End notes: If you're confused, don't worry. What exactly happened to Emily (or rather, what she did to herself) will be explained in more detail as the story goes on.