Here's chapter 5, finally. I'm still sort of undecided on her 'talent' though. And I need more reviews…:'(. Thanks to Feng Yue for being my only reviewer. My timing got a little bit mixed up, so I'll clarify: today, in Ana's world, is a Tuesday. She met Ryan last Wednesday. Oh, and I hope no one minds me stealing a few lines from Twilight (creds to Stephenie Meyer).

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A gust of warm air encircled me as Cicilia opened the door and ushered me inside. The breeze brought with it the ever-tantalizing scent of human blood, warm and heady. I resisted the temptation with practiced ease, watching, as I always did, to see that Cicilia remained calm. It was silly, I realized now. Neither of us posed any danger to our classmates anymore, but I'd developed the habit and I didn't seem able to shake it off. I grimaced as this train of thought quickly melded into the inevitable follow-up – I did pose a threat now, but only to one student in particular.

"Are you sure?" Cici asked for the tenth time that morning. My only answer was a growl, too low for the humans around us to hear.

The hallway was crowded, despite the early hour. The babble of excited voices that accompanied the burning thirst enveloped the two of us as we walked, conspicuous as always, to our lockers. The humans generally gave both of us a wide berth, driven by their instinctual fear of our animalistic grace and dazzling white teeth. This suited me well, but I always felt a pang of guilt as Cici stared longingly at the throngs of giggling high school girls.

By some happy chance (actually, Cici had pulled quite a few of the right strings) we had lockers next to each other at the very end of the hallway, away from the main crowd. I trudged glumly to the wall and flicked the lock a few times, twisting it expertly right, left, and then right again. Cici's locker swung open with an audible click at the exact same moment, and we both retrieved our books for English in unison.

"We'll be starting Kafka in a few weeks," Cici commented. "Should be fun." Her attempt at nonchalant conversation was entirely wasted on me. I knew exactly what she was really doing. She could feel my heart rate accelerating, my anxiety spiking, and she was trying, in vain, to calm me down with meaningless chatter.

"Cici – I don't care," I hissed. I knew it was mean, but I didn't have time to feel bad – we were standing outside the English classroom.

Cicilia's mouth pulled down a little bit at the corners, but I could see that it wasn't her hurt feelings – she was concerned. I followed her gaze, and all too soon I met the wary blue gaze of my personal demon. My personal demon that haunted my dreams. I looked away quickly, feeling my stomach clench. The scent hadn't reached me yet, but no doubt I had mere seconds until it did.

Together, we strode forward, two vampires among a metaphorical ocean of succulent human beings.

It was like a punch in the gut when I finally did taste the fragrance of his blood in the air. White-hot flames ripped down my throat, stimulating a gush of venom in my mouth. I almost turned around and dashed out of the classroom, but Cici's light touch on my arm kept me still. I wondered vaguely what would have happened to Ryan if I didn't have Cicilia.

It took a Herculean effort to cross the classroom and sit down in the center of our little empty circle. Cici had the good grace to occupy my usual seat, which would have had the same effect as an electric chair on me. Ryan stared at us, obviously in awe, from the desk next to Cici. I felt another stab of regret that being full enough to be able to resist his scent had a flip side – I was no longer able to inflict a deathly black glare on him.

The first five minutes of English were pure, unadulterated torture. I sat rigid and white-faced, breathing very slowly through my mouth, focusing on my thumb. But, after those first few minutes, the pain began to ease up. I was surprised but relieved. The more I exposed myself to the scent, it seemed, the less powerful it was. Cici felt me relax just a fraction, and her eyes brightened.

Our teacher continued to drone on in a monotonous voice, pausing occasionally to write something in ridiculously illegible script on the board. I'd already written tonight's analysis of the current novel we were reading, so there wasn't much to hold my attention. Other than Ryan, of course. As soon as the class had settled down and most people were paying attention to the lecture, I turned my head the tiniest bit toward him. To my surprise and amusement, Ryan was watching me out of the corner of his eye. I flashed a toothy grin at him, laughing inside. Maybe I could make some fun out of my torment.

His reaction was not at all what I expected. Ryan smiled back tentatively, his gaze hopeful. I flinched, put out by his lack of terror. He was supposed to grow pale and turn away, perhaps scootch his desk further from us. For a brief second I wondered if he had a mental hindrance – no normal human that I had ever encountered was unaffected by my hostility. Childishly, I was infuriated by this fact. He had nearly robbed me of my self-control – did he have to rob me of my antagonism?

I hadn't been paying any attention to the class, and when Cici suddenly tapped my shoulder, I jerked my head up, disoriented. That only made me more nauseated – I was never disoriented. My head throbbed painfully.

"Mr. Jones asked you a question, Ana," she murmured, prompting me.

I glanced at the board and discerned the direction of the conversation in a second. They were halfway through the lecture, which I had already memorized.

"Hawthorne secretly admires Hester's independence," I spit out mechanically, hardly hearing the words as they dropped from my tongue. Mr. Jones, a stout, balding man, smiled blankly at me before continuing. I blinked rapidly and turned away.

"What's wrong?" Cici asked anxiously, throwing a curious glance at Ryan over her shoulder. He was glaring down at his desk, his dark hair draped in front of his face. His expression was brooding, and I wished I could know what he was thinking.

"Nothing's wrong," I grumbled in reply. Cicilia seemed to sense my despondence and frowned, puzzled. I didn't elaborate – I needed to work it out for myself before I could explain anything to her.

Class was over soon after that. The bell jarred me from my reverie and I stood fluidly, gathering my books. Cici stood next to me, her eyes burning with curiosity. Suddenly, she whipped around, shock flashing across her face. I narrowed my eyes, once again looking to see what had startled her. All I saw was Ryan, lounging by the door, his eyes on the floor.

Before I could ask Cici what was up, he paused in his pacing, nodded to himself, and then set off in a new direction – directly towards me. Cici's eyes flickered to me apprehensively, but it was too late for us to escape now.

Again, I don't know what made me say it. If I had been in control of my senses, I'm sure I would have known better.

"Go," I hissed. At first, Cici didn't seem to hear me. It didn't occur to her that I would want to face him alone. I tried again. "Cici, go." This time she did hear me, and her eyes grew round with astonishment.

"Are you…" she began, but I cut her off with a shake of my head.

"I'm fine. Go, please. I want to do this alone." I made it sound like I was marching to my own execution. Cici didn't miss the bleakness of my tone, but she loped away anyway, hesitating at the doorframe before she disappeared into the flow of humans on their way to the next class.

I heard someone clear his throat beside me. Steeling myself, I turned to face Ryan. He was still staring at the floor, his cheeks red. I swallowed, trying to calm the raging thirst in my throat. Of all the guys that could blush, why him? I sighed. This made his eyes flicker. Ugh.

"Er..hi. I'm Ryan, but you probably…know that." His voice had a strange melody to it, something I definitely hadn't been expecting. My head swirled, as much from his strange behavior as his thick scent.

"Yes. You moved here from California." This was a strange feeling – talking to him. Another thing I hadn't been expecting.

Now he finally looked up, his blue eyes searching. "Yeah." He gave a strangled laugh, which quickly petered into a cough. I smothered a laugh of my own. So much for bravery.

"Do you want anything in particular?" I asked, aware of how his heartbeat picked up at the sound of my silky voice. Most of my kind had a hard time remembering the effect they had on humans, but I spent so much time testing this that I knew very well how I was toying with his emotions.

"Not really. I just figure I should get to know more people, being the new kid and all." He was gaining confidence. I frowned. Eager to get the conversation moving so that I wouldn't be late for my next class, I took a few prompting steps towards the door. He followed as though an invisible string tied him to me. This observation made my brow furrow even more.

Ryan seemed to expect something, and when I was not forthcoming, he spoke up himself. "Your Anastasia, right?"

I gritted my teeth. He pronounced it the American way: 'Anne-a-staje-a'. This was one of my most imperative pet peeves, something that I wasted no time in drilling into anyone who cared to befriend me. A part of my subconscious remarked that this group included very few, if any, humans. "It's Anastasia, actually," I muttered, pronouncing it 'Aun-a-staus-ee-a' – the right way, in my opinion. I considered asking him to call me Ana, my preferred nickname, but that made it sound like I was being…chummy. I wasn't - no nickname.

"Oh. Is that, like, the old-fashioned way of saying it?" he inquired further.

"No."

My brisk response shut him up for a few delicious seconds. If he wasn't afraid of me because I was a vampire, which worked for most people, maybe I'd have to find another way to discourage this behavior. Like a dog, he needed to be shown who was boss.

"What's the food like here? I haven't been around for lunch yet – I had meetings every day last week." He stared at me expectantly, his gaze still bright and eager.

We passed through the doorway and into the hall. He didn't seem in a hurry as I led the way toward the history classroom. This question caught me off guard. I wasn't used to having to lie to people about such trivial aspects of my nature.

"It's inedible," I replied sardonically, my mouth twitching as I enjoyed the private joke. Ryan paused, but only for a brief second.

"Do you have American History next period?" I queried, cutting him off as he opened his mouth to ask another question, no doubt just as impossible to answer, knowing my luck.

I watched disdainfully as he pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket and scanned it with his azure gaze.

"Yup," he quipped a moment later, stuffing the paper back into his pocket. I gaped in disbelief. Had he always been in that class? I didn't remember from last time. I had the sneaking suspicion that he'd changed for that very reason, but dismissed it quickly. That was absurd.

"So what's your favorite class? Is Mr. Jones always that boring? I heard there's a lot of homework for Chem – maybe I should have opted for Physics instead." He looked genuinely curious, but I didn't miss the subtle step he took that brought him closer to me as we walked. My lip pulled back just the tiniest bit. If he was trying to be friendly, I might have to seriously freak him out. This was the last thing I needed – a demon who liked me. What kind of sick joke were the Fates playing on a poor lost soul?

I considered my answers more carefully this time, trying to discern the best way to tip him off, to teach him a lesson. "My favorite class is Spanish," I began, hoping desperately that he was taking French. I was rewarded by a slight frown creasing his forehead, which must mean he was. "Mr. Jones is a very nice man, and I value his lessons," was my next entirely false reply. This made him gaze down at the floor with a sheepish expression. "There's so much homework for Chemistry that I've stayed up all night to finish it before," I concluded gleefully. This wasn't a lie at all, and it was absolutely worth the flash of horror that passed over his face.

Ryan didn't open his mouth again until we reached the American History classroom. We were the last ones to reach the door before Mrs. Ferguson stalked across the carpet to lock it. This was her cruel way of making an example of tardy students. I felt a flicker of horror of my own as the door clicked shut behind me and Mrs. Ferguson's glare burned into the back of my neck. I'd never been close to late in my entire life – would Ryan take everything from me?

The horror turned to disgust and despair as I surveyed the classroom. This time there were only two available seats. I met Cici's apologetic gaze as the two of us made our way to the desks at the back of the room. I slid into the chair beside my best friend, trying to ignore Ryan as he dropped dejectedly into the neighboring place.

"What did he ask you?" Cici questioned anxiously as soon as the attention of the class had been refocused on Mrs. Ferguson. Today we were analyzing art from the Civil War, a class that I'd taken too many times to be caught off guard again, not to mention I time period that I'd lived through. Yes – I experienced the Civil War, despite residing in Italy at the time. One would be surprised how often we had to intervene during that time. Of course, we rarely had dealings with the armies of humans that were scurrying around the South back then – it was the armies of newborn vampires that occupied the majority of our careful attention.

"Stupid questions," I replied juvenilely, and half expected my tongue to stick out of its own accord.

Cici touched my shoulder gently. "I'm sorry, Ana. It must be hard."

Her concern made my throat tight, which made my head spin. I'd experienced more emotions in the past few days then I generally did in an entire year. I was usually a single- or double-attitude person, swinging from malignant cynicism to iniquitous humor. All this confusion, guilt and desolation were going to drive me insane.

Luckily, my years of practice at resisting the scent of human blood, including the different kind of restraint that I'd learned among the Volturi, made it easier to concentrate on not killing Ryan. I could follow a train of thought now without it always ending in a memory of his aroma. Therefore, for the first time, I could step back from the situation and observe it from afar. It was obvious that this boy was somehow impervious to my innate ability to inspire fear in those around me, and it was also obvious that for some reason he wanted to befriend me. After a moment of pondering this I quickly banished the thoughts from my mind, having come to a conclusion that was as disturbing as it was tempting. There was always the chance that we could be friends…I shuddered.

American History passed much more quickly than English, and for this I was grateful, as I was on the verge of turning to Ryan and jabbing out both of his eyes, which had been flickering towards me throughout the class. The aggravation only escalated, however, when he rose to his feet and paused, waiting as Cici and I gathered our things. As if he wanted to walk with us to lunch, which was absurd.

"Hi!" said a bubbly voice.

At first I didn't believe my ears, but my sight didn't fail me as soon as I looked up to see who had made such a familiar noise. It was Cici, but I has to blink to tell myself that what I was seeing was genuine. Cici was leaning on the edge of her desk, books in hand, smiling up at Ryan. He looked as surprised as I did, taken aback by her sudden wave of sociability.

"I'm Cicilia di Russo and – you met Ana. How many classes do you have with us, anyway?" her tone was laughing, cheerful. I gaped at her, feeling betrayed.

Ryan swallowed, his face a little slack with bedazzlement. I frowned at Cici – I'd told her too many times that she shouldn't do that to people. "Er…hi?" His voice broke on the end. He blinked once and ran a hand through his hair, and then looked back at me. My frown immediately deepened. This was bad. If he had the willpower to look away from Cici at all, something was profoundly wrong with this boy.

Cicilia seemed to catch this as well, and her astonished glance was enough to prove that her special 'talent' supplied her with a more in depth explanation of this action. I made a very strongly worded mental note to ask her about everything later.

I marched past Cici wordlessly, escaping the tense confines of the classroom, and breathed a sigh of relief as the ache in my throat was momentarily erased by a lungful of fresh air blowing through an open doorway at the end of the hall. I hurried to my locker and stuffed my books and papers inside, not waiting to see if Cicilia or Ryan had followed me, and then continued on to the cafeteria, carefully keeping my mind blank of any thoughts at all.

I took a ham sandwich and a bottle of water, the two things most of the humans didn't eat for lunch when there were much more appetizing things available, and then slinked through the crowds to the table in the far back corner of the huge, high-ceilinged room. This table was always empty, no matter what, because people knew that only the two Italian girls sat there. It was just a rule.

I slammed my tray down and slid, unconsciously graceful, onto the bench, folding my arms and leaning back against the wall. Lunch was, if anything, an ordeal at the best of times. Today, no doubt, would be worse.

I watched the entryway cautiously, awaiting Cici's appearance. I wasn't as surprised this time when she emerged with Ryan trailing warily at her elbow. Her face was a bright mask, but I could tell from her posture that she was just as tense and cautious as I was. This made me feel better, and I didn't quite know why.

The two of them proceed through the lunch line. I watched Ryan's face, scrutinizing his reactions as Cici chatted aimlessly over her shoulder. Most of the time he looked confused and a little bored. Then all of a sudden, his face broke into a smile and I vaguely heard a deep chuckle escape from between his lips. Cici was laughing too, her angelic curls swinging around her shoulders.

I was entirely unprepared for the new emotion that engulfed me like a raging inferno at the sight and sound of his laughter. I had no name for it, only that I had certainly never experienced it before. I clutched the table with white fingers and my breathing sped up as the flood of anger-that-wasn't-really-anger spread through me. For one tiny, brief second, as I stared at the two of them human and vampire, I wanted to hurt Cici. I wanted to stride over and punch her in the gut for making him laugh. It was this revelation that stopped the flow of rage – stopped it cold. Now I was chilled, gripping my stomach like I was about to be sick. Hurt Cicilia? Why would I ever…? How could I ever…? What the hell was happening to me?

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Hmmm…I just realized how sinister it got at the end there. Oh well, that is sort of the effect I'm striving for. Basically, I had a sudden fascination with the antagonist of a story, and it's sort of coming out in Anastasia. Poor girl. Oh, but guess what? I decided on her power! She's like a combination between Zafrina and Jane. She creates a very powerful illusion of pressing darkness that drives most people insane within a few minutes, out of fear. Veeeerrry creepy…but that's why she part of the Volturi. Oh, and btw, the emotion was jealousy, in case no one understood. And the reason why she experiences all of this so intensely is because, like Edward explained in Twilight, vampires rarely change at all. This is why, when he fell in love with Bella, it was so absolute. Ana hasn't felt jealousy in…well, maybe forever, so it's really intense now.