Chapter 8

Connections

I hold her cradled against me. Summer cries the tears I cannot cry for all of them. It takes my breath away to have such a perfect conduit for my heartbreak, and yet I know she is allowing it. I hold her against me, feeling her deep wrenching sobs. Occasionally I hear her choked words, 'the baby!'...'his parents'...'oh such betrayal!' With my arms around her she cries, pulling from a well as deep as my own pain and grief.

I sense strongly she is weeping for her own pain as well, though she has shared little enough of her own life with me. She is alone, and I feel it in the way she clings to me. I am no closer to solving her mystery, but for the time, our attraction has taken a different turn. Little by little I can feel some of the pain leave me. It is like my tortured soul finally knows I have grieved and mourned the losses – at last! The first step was telling her and just admitting my own part. Then the strange way she accepted my pain, taking it upon herself was another step. For this alone she deserves every consideration I can give her to protect her life.

When she is finally finished crying she gets off of my lap, needing to wipe her face and drink some water. She looks wrung out and all I can do is stare at her as two more tears trickle from her luminous blue eyes. "Do you need to rest or take some time alone after all of that?" I am concerned for her.

She shakes her head and wipes her eyes once more. A small smile turns the corners of her mouth. "I think we both needed that. I actually feel better now." She steps over and takes her seat on my lap once more, placing her arms around me and her head on my shoulder. "I like this Stefan, and not because I feel compelled. Tell me, do you like being alone? I mean aside from your friend that is?"

Her question catches me off guard. I guess with Vladmir always around, as well as all the ghosts that haunt me, I never delved into the idea of being solitary.

"Caro mio, I never thought whether to like it or not. It simply is regardless of how I feel. Our kind do not do well in groups. There are a few exceptions, but the very nature of our needs makes it difficult to be together. The Volturi are not together so much for companionship or friendship, but for safety and to have others of our kind worship them I believe. Yes, I think they want to be adored. There are two groups In America I have seen who live as a family. They do not hunt humans, but consume animal blood instead. It affords them the luxury to stay together without fear of drawing too much attention to themselves. But most of us keep to three or less, and many wander to keep from hunting in the same territory too long."

"Have you ever tried a different way of life? I mean besides the Volturi way, or living like you do now?"

I have to laugh. "In the time I have existed mi precioso, I have done everything. I have indeed subsisted on animals alone. I have lived in a family group, and I have lived absolutely alone. After the deaths of my Tessa and my family, I lived in a small Christian monastery for the next hundred years. It was a place where the Volturi would not find me. There were very few of us, and we lived in complete seclusion studying and writing the religious texts to send out into the world. It was as close as I have come to knowing peace in all my years since being changed. Of course it was not like I could hunt humans, so I fed on any number of animals. Our sanctuary was absolutely rat free, as well as any other creature which might wander in. On nights when the hunger grew too fierce, I would steal from the flocks of the shepherds in nearby villages.

"But this did not last as my companions were human and they noticed I was different. They looked the other way when I did not eat, and they did not question my strength or that I did not get ill – ever. But it simply happened that they aged and died and I did not. When the new ones came to take over for the last one who died, I left rather than have to go through the process of teaching them about myself."

I feel her still and quiet against me. "What did you do after that? I mean, why would you go back to ….hunting people if you could live without it?"

I do not know how to explain it to her. It is such a basic need and we have so much time to ponder it like a preoccupation. It is always there, pulling and tempting and refusing to be entirely still. Being among the Volturi, with their seeming unlimited supply of prey ….it was one of the few times I have ever known complete gratification of my hunger. And there was no one to tell us no. There are the rationalizations that some people just deserve death, or that we are above the laws by which they live. There is the refuge of accepting that I am a monster and immersing myself fully in the horror of what I have become.

I sigh deeply. "Summer, I can give you reasons and excuses and rationalizations, but the simplest truth is that the blood is a need, and I am afraid to die. Animals will sustain us, but they never fully satisfy. It is also more difficult to live that way once we have known an abundance of human prey. After living in Volterra, it was nearly impossible for me to live on animals. The desire was always strong and the other monks who lived with me, surely had to feel they were in danger from me on many occasions. It was there that I learned about prayer and meditation, but it never completely overcame the lust for blood. The only thing that kept me from losing my resolve when I was most tempted, was Tessa. She has saved many would be victims from being consumed, including you." I feel her startled reaction, but she stays where she is and I wonder if the attraction is at work again between us.

"After I left the monastery I traveled alone. I had the perfect opportunity to see the world, and I took it, always keeping way ahead of the Volturi. Not that I worried about them, but because I have such a deep hatred of them. Any confrontation would only mean my death, but I determined that I would not go alone, which kept a sort of truce between us. I learned from a Volturi hunter I happened across during my travels, that my family was killed because of me." I feel her startle in my arms.

"When I told the Volturi I would return for another year, but did not promise, there was one among the guard who could tell I was lying. It was my ability to use language and my voice to influence them, but his ability was to tell the truth from a lie. Because I was a valuable talent they decided not to destroy me, but because I lied, which is only now against their laws, I needed a punishment they decided. But for a long time I imagined that they were looking for me to press me into servitude to them or finish me.

"I have seen some incredible wonders and met some amazing people." She looks surprised as I speak of meeting people, and I laugh. "Yes, I can meet and speak to humans without feeding on them. Being like the chameleon is a skill we learn as we age. I learned as many languages as I could and saw many countries as well. I am sorry if I bored you with my stories, since sometimes I forget that you just had to be there to understand. Still the things I could tell you... the history books seldom get it right, and even when they are close, there is only so much that can be recorded. The rest is lost."

I feel the weight of the centuries of memory, and it saddens me that there are no words to tell her about the awe of a tall sailing ship or the power of a well trained brigade of knights. I cannot show her the unexplored beauty of her own country when birds flew so thick they blocked the sun and fish were so plentiful you could almost walk across them. There is so much I wish I could tell her. But I have to wonder why it matters. I have shared my stories and memories with Vladmir, and he can truly appreciate my tales. She is just so...human. Still, I cannot believe that we are relaxed together. I still feel an attraction to her, but it is bearable at the moment as I speak with her.

"I do not know how long it took for me to remember one of my passions. I have always enjoyed politics, philosophy, and great ideas. I love being able to help shape the way people think and find common ground with them. More and more I found myself going out in search of opportunities where I could speak with crowds or influence courts on various matters that appealed to me at the time. I also discovered that in places where there was political change happening, there was often armed combat involved, or soon to be involved. There is no better place for one of my kind to hunt than a battle front. It was often the case that I would hunt among those I considered my enemies due to a political stand I had taken.

"As you can imagine, in all my years I saw a lot of war, and a lot of combat, and a lot of death. Soon it mattered not who was my enemy, because the death was always the same. It always seemed to be that the youngest and bravest were sacrificed to these battles while those who sent them kept themselves from the fray. I found myself less drawn to the taking of life during the heat of the battle, and more inclined to ending the piteous cries of the fallen in the aftermath.

"Perhaps it is merely my continuing idealism that makes me seek out the hopeless causes among my victims. Strangely I find that more and more I rely on self governing rules for my own behavior. I look for my sustenance among those who are already familiar with death. Those who have been introduced and shaken his hand. It has allowed me a small measure of acceptance, at least in my own eyes. I am not the one bringing death, but I am merely hastening the end."

She turns a bit to look at me then. "Why can't you wait until death? It seems to me it would be easier and less horrible if you could just drink from the bodies of those who have already died. And why can't you...I don't know, drink donated blood instead, like on that TV show?"

I have to laugh again. Oh the modern age, where someone can look at a supernatural monster and try to apply scientific laws. Still I like how her mind works, and the way she is thinking to find a way to paint me as less of a fiend. "If there is a program on television that includes those of my kind drinking from blood bank donations, then it is purely fiction. They should be thankful that they do not guess at the reality or there would surely be something done about the revelation.

"But to your question of feeding on the dead. It is not easy to explain since there is no proof of what I know. Every human has a spark of life within them, and animals too but to a lesser degree. It has little to do with their physical bodies and even their blood, but it is part of their essence. When I feed, it is as much on this essence – this spark – as it is the blood itself. The blood sustains us, but it is the spark that allows us to live. It quickly departs after death, and does not transfer in blood lost during donations or even wounding. I have indeed fed on the blood of corpses, but I would liken it to George Washington dining on shoe leather to keep from starving at Valley Forge. And donated blood has chemicals added to keep it from clotting and preserve it for use by humans. It causes us to become painfully ill, though it too will sustain for a short time."

She is quiet against me. I wonder if I have answered all of her questions. Even more to the point I wonder if I have doomed her with my answers. If anyone reported to the Volturi what I have shown her and told her, it would certainly mean her death, and of course mine as well. Not that I fear for my own life, in fact I would relish the chance to fight one final battle against the three vultures who ruined so much of my existence.

Caius is already terrified of me, and even after all these years I can still recall the sound of his girlish screams when the werewolf attacked him. It was brilliance to give the beast his scent and send the slavering creature after the one who felt he was immune to all attacks. It is a small measure of what I owe him. It is also the reason I call Romania home after all these years. The werewolves were once plentiful here, and I am sure to Caius they are still lurking behind every rock.

Aro I must say is the one whom I most dread meeting. With one touch he would know my deepest sorrow, and I know that he would be all too likely to share his part in the extermination of my humanity. If I had to watch his amused countenance tell me how he fed on my mother or watched my son being taken, I think I would lose what is left of my mind. Marcus has ever been a mystery to me, even before the loss of his wife. He may understand my loss better than the others, but that is an affinity I cannot accept. Because of his talent, he is the one who knows the strength of my connection to Tessa; he of all of them should have known better.

Then of course there is the guard. I know of the effectiveness of Jane, who seems to inspire fear and resignation in most of our kind, but I believe I can defeat her. It is only pain she offers, not actual injury. If there is one thing I am intimately familiar with, it is pain. Her little brother would present more of a challenge to me but his gift moves more slowly. My biggest threat comes from those who are strong and fast. But I am not without my own gifts and I know that a command from me would freeze them. I have run through these confrontations in my mind a thousand times. Every time I die, but most of the time I can take at least one of the old vultures with me. And there are those rare scenarios I dream about where I am victorious and three ancient ones burn by my hand.

She moves against me. "You're so quiet Stefan, are you okay?" Her voice snaps me out of my reverie.

"Hush love, do not worry about me. Sometimes those of us who are of a certain age just get caught up in our thoughts."

"You were just so still and quiet...you looked like a stature." She slips her hands around my neck and her fingers dance through my hair. "An amazingly beautiful statue." I can hear her pulse racing as she twists on my lap and kisses a soft, warm trail along my cheek to my lips. Her mouth presses to mine and I feel her tongue slide along my lips enticingly. I let go of her and clutch the arms of the heavily carved wooden chair. 'Oh Tessa, please keep me from killing her!' I beg silently in my mind. I close my eyes and refuse to breath or open my mouth. I know I cannot hold on for much longer with her so close to me, but then I hear her gasp. She lets go of me suddenly and clumsily gets to her feet.

"Oh god, it is me!" I hear her stumble away from me and then the creak of the bed springs as she launches herself onto it and scrambles to the far corner. "Please go if you can...I'm so sorry!" I stand and look her way. With knees drawn up and her chin resting on them as her arms hug her legs, I can see she is crying. I stand torn, both wanting to go to her, and needing to move safely away from her. I force myself to look away and move to the door. I step out and realize she now holds the key. The realization hits me hard, knowing that I can go back inside and make her mine. I close the door and step away, letting the barrier do it's work.

It takes a little time, but soon I am calm again and so apparently is she. When she leaves her corner and comes toward the glass she wipes her eyes on the sleeve of my shirt she wears. "You were right...this time I know it started with me." She places her trembling hand on the glass and her eyes lock onto mine. "I know you can make me feel what you feel. I don't feel such overwhelming sorrow when you are not with me. And yet I could cry a river for your grief when you held me." She looks timid and nervous and I watch her tongue lick her lips.

"Just now, that was me wasn't it? Unless you were sending me feelings of...attraction...and longing... I saw for just a second you were confused by my attention. I don't understand this!" She turns and paces in agitation. "Can you tell me this is what you were feeling just now? Were you thinking of me? Were you thinking how much you wanted me?"

All I can do is watch her. I am afraid to tell her I feel that way now but I did not when I was holding her. She flounces into the chair and holds her face in her hands. I cannot take my eyes off of her; if she cries I will be helpless but to go to her. She straightens and looks at me, sliding her fingers through her hair and giving me a mysterious smile. Once again this creature surprises me.