Chapter Thirty

1 When Aro unchained Fiora, Irina couldn't help but tense up, even though she didn't want to make the situation worse by signalling discomfort. However, even she had trouble reminding herself that there was real danger, because Aro's happy enthusiasm at the experiment's success was so contagious, it was virtually impossible to resist its appeal.

"I understand that all you ever wanted was to be loved by all," Aro said, unlocked the thick metal collar around Fiora's neck, and dropped it on the floor. It clanged loudly, the sound reverberating off the stone walls. The girl held still, just stared up at him with a wary expression on her nearly skeletal face. "But that's impossible. No-one enjoys universal approval." He hunkered down, unlocked the heavy cuffs holding her ankles together, and chuckled lightly when his skin brushed hers. "No, not even me."

Fiora looked rather doubtful. Irina knew how she felt. It was hard to believe that anyone with that incredible power of true charm could not make basically everybody he met like him, or at least be fascinated by him.

After he freed her of the chain around her skinny torso, he went on to un-cuff her wrists, to which her eyes grew even larger. Her plump red lips parted in a silent, gobsmacked question.

He smiled down at her with warmth, the hostility he'd displayed toward the girl in Irina's presence either gone or at least very well hidden. "Because like this, you're not a threat to anyone; that's why. Don't get too excited, though, all right? I'll let you move freely in here and watch your progress. If this state you're in can be kept permanently, then maybe I'll let you leave this cell and stay somewhere more comfortable. Would that be a fair compromise in your eyes?"

Still staring at him with unmistakeable wariness, she slowly nodded. Even though she was no longer chained to the wall, she didn't move. Irina didn't think that she'd be physically able to, after that many centuries spent in complete immobility.

"I'll call for water, human food, and some fresh clothes for you," Aro said, rose to his feet, and walked out of the cell, pulling his phone from his pocket as he went. Before he closed the door, he glanced at Fiora over his shoulder. "If you believe in any form of higher power, now would be the time to pray that this solution really is the miracle we were all waiting for."

Little later, a few vampire guards brought the requested items: bread, beef, a whole gallon of water, and a clean cotton-shirt-and-trousers combination. It was a little strange to observe these centuries-old, trained warriors tremble and quail before this tiny little girl in the stone cell, but they hurried so quickly in and out of the place, even Irina had trouble following their motions. She didn't know what the best part of this new development was: the fact that the vampires were not being at all compelled to help Fiora escape, or that Fiora herself was finally not chained to the wall like an animal anymore. This was a sentient, sapient person. She did not deserve to be in constant agony – no-one did. Not even the likes of Jasper Whitlock, one of the most unapologetic psychopathic people she'd ever had the misfortune to meet.

"Can I go in there and help her? I don't think she's able to change her clothes like this."

Aro gave Irina a long, thoughtful look, before he nodded his quiet approval and opened the cell door for her.

This time, when the lock clanged shut, Irina didn't even flinch. Right now, this emaciated young woman lying sprawled on the floor was not one of the most powerful, destructive monsters on the face of the Earth. Right now, this was a helpless person who couldn't even stand by herself. Standing by idly whilst she crawled around on the cold stone floor would just be cruel.

Fiora didn't flinch either as Irina handed her the food, which she wolfed down with an expression of both pain and relief on her face, using both trembling hands, as if she hadn't eaten in centuries. Maybe she hadn't. Maybe they really hadn't fed her out of fear. Maybe it had been necessary to keep her as weak as possible. Whatever the reasons for Fiora's pitiful state, at this very moment, they were gone. She'd regain some of her dignity. Aro was right: here was to hoping that this cure really was permanent, or at least that it could be made permanent via regular applications.

When she was done eating, Irina said, "Would you like me to help you wash?"

The girl nodded. Very carefully, Irina helped her get out of the decaying, filthy rags she was in and used what was left of the cold water to wash the grime away. She meant to save some for Fiora's long, dark, knotted hair, but Fiora shook her head, grabbed one of the strands, and made a cutting motion with her other hand.

"I haven't got any scissors on me," Irina told her, "but my fingernails should do. Do you want it really short?" Again, Fiora nodded. "All right. Pinch me if it hurts." It was amazing. Irina could come in contact with Fiora's skin and not see, hear, or feel anything unusual. There were no visions. There were no voices in her head. Right now, this was an ordinary girl – well, as ordinary as dhampirs went, but still. It was nothing short of amazing.

Not long after, the – probably not saveable, anyway – clumps of hair were on the floor, and Fiora looked like a different person altogether. Her hair was cropped short, her face was clean, and there was a healthy, rosy flush on her cheeks. The disgusting rags she'd been wearing were gone, and the long-sleeved cotton shirt and beige trousers combination made her look like someone out of a 1970s sci-fi movie. She ran her thin fingers across her short hair, looked at her clean hands, and cracked a lovely, toothy smile at Irina.

It was impossible not to return the expression. "You're welcome. Are you feeling better?" Again, there was a nod. "Would you like me to help you stand? It'll be good for you."

That was when Aro opened the door from the outside and stepped in. "Allow me." His expression was solemn.

Irina glanced at him and then at Fiora, frowning, unsure, but the girl only had eyes for him. Well, they had baggage. To say that both of them probably had mixed feelings about each other might be the understatement of the millennium.

"All right," Irina said, stood up, and backed away.

Wordlessly, Aro crossed the distance to where Fiora was sitting and held out a hand. Staring at him, moving slowly, Fiora reached out, took it, and allowed him to pull her to her feet with no effort at all. She stumbled. Her knees buckled, gave out. She would have crashed down, but he held her by the upper arms, steadied her as she grabbed him by the jacket for support. A human's body would not have been able to recuperate this quickly after being immobilised for long. A vampire's body wouldn't have any problems at all. A half-vampire, however, was of course somewhere in between. She was breathing hard, trembling, lips pressed together tightly. A moment later, she'd steadied herself. This was amazing. She was strong, despite her frail appearance; there was no denying that.

Carefully, he let go of her arms, the hint of a smile lighting up his face when she didn't totter. "Would it be terribly tacky to paraphrase Neil Armstrong?"

Fiora looked down at her bare feet as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, then back at Aro. Her face went pale, her lower lip started trembling, her eyes were brimming with tears. Without preamble, she threw her skeletal arms around his neck, pressed her forehead against his collarbone, and broke into voiceless sobs.

For a few seconds, he just stood there, unsmiling, a little tense. Then, he closed his eyes and very carefully put his arms around her waist. "All right," he said, in a quiet tone. "It's all right."

Irina just stood there, watching them, trying not to think about how much she'd like to be able to cry, too. This wasn't about her. This was their moment. Finally, he'd said earlier. Yes. Finally. The curse was broken. There was no reason to believe that this solution could not work permanently. Maybe the entire vampire world would change because of this, but right then and there, the only thing that mattered was that Fiora was no longer a monster. Her world had changed. Sometimes, saving one single person could matter more than trying to fix the whole world.

2 Leah was lying on the rental's backseat, thoughtfully chewing on the third sandwich from the bunch they bought at a gas station along the way. They were now well into Oregon, heading north as quickly as the speed limit allowed. Not far behind, Blake and her two friends followed on their (pretty awesome) bikes. Brand-new werewolves. Well, actually, very old werewolves. Their kind was probably a good deal older than Leah's. Not that it mattered. The fact that they existed at all was incredible. As if they'd jumped right out of some old legend, here they were, alive and indomitable and kicking ass as they went. To think that Leah's people and Blake's had never even heard rumours of each other. It probably wasn't all that surprising, but still. The mind got blown away all the same.

To think that the Children of the Moon had been hunted to near extinction by Psycho Albino and his evil minions.

Dibs on the band-name, she thought wryly, closed her eyes, swallowed the rest of the sandwich, wiped her lips, and tried hard to ignore the mother of all itches underneath her bandage.

The wound was healing nicely, being aided by the mountains of food she was consuming, but she was perfectly aware of the fact that she would be nowhere near fit to fight the next day. Demetri had assured her a dozen times that they weren't going to win this thing by fighting, anyway, but there certainly was no harm in being prepared. They'd be getting home sooner than she wanted, actually, even without all the extinction-event shenanigans going on. She didn't want to complain or anything, not even internally, but man, life sure was rather crappy these days. How in the hell was she supposed to waltz back into La Push and tell Billy that his son was dead? That she had killed him? Yeah, she knew that her choices had been pretty limited, and she suspected that Billy wouldn't hold it against her, but still. Still.

Oh, Jacob. Poor, poor Jacob.

This was all so fucking wretched. He'd been gone. There'd been no saving him. She knew that. She firmly believed that she'd done the only humane thing for him, that she'd helped him the only way she could. Did it make anything better? Nope. He was still gone forever. His dead body was still wrapped up in a sheet and in a plastic tarp and stuffed into the trunk. They would still have to deliver him to his dad like this. No-one would ever see him again, talk to him, listen to him whine, laugh at one of his dumb jokes, worry about him every time he went out on wolf patrol. No, those days were gone. He was dead. There was no future waiting for him, bright or otherwise.

Not wanting to think herself into a bawling fit, Leah let her thoughts wander to her little brother, instead. Yeah. Not all that cheery a subject in and of itself, was it? Unwittingly, she remembered their last confrontation at Castle New Money, the things he'd screamed at her via wolf telepathy, the fact that he'd tried to kill her. Her neck itched. Irritated, she rubbed the still slightly roughened skin where he'd bitten her. It hadn't been his fault, she knew that, but somehow, this knowledge brought little comfort. He'd called her a hateful bitch who was completely unlikeable and who always hung around where she wasn't wanted. Sure, his attitude had been a result of Re-name-me's mind corruption, but ever since he'd entered puberty, Seth and Leah had butted heads a lot, to her great grief. She simply couldn't help but wonder whether these awful things he'd thrown at her in his rage hadn't had a basis in truth. Maybe he really did feel that way about her, and the demon-spawn's influence had only made it all so much worse.

Maybe. Maybe not. Probably a little. Whatever.

Her throat constricted and her stomach knotted. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, balled her hands into fists, and poured all her energy into staying in control. What the hell was wrong with her, wallowing in self-pity like this? Jeez. It didn't even matter if Seth honestly held her in contempt or not. The only thing she should be worrying about was that he stay alive to snap at her…

…okay, that and the question whether demon-baby's infection could be exorcised out of him. That was a problem. That was a huge problem, actually. It was, however, a problem for another day. Right now, they all had other things to worry about, like stopping a genocide. Everything else would have to wait.

3 "Caius? Your phone beeped. I think you got a message." Corin moved from the hotel suite's living area to the side of her boss, inside the master bedroom. She was holding his cell in her bony hand.

He was standing by the bed, still as stone, watching the unconscious, unmoving Renesmee with a transfixed expression on his face. "This one is even more powerful than Fiora," he said in a quiet, thoughtful tone. "I didn't think that it could be possible. How can it be? Aro will want to keep her; I know it."

"He won't want two of them in Volterra," Corin countered flatly, still holding out the phone to him. Apparently, being blatantly disregarded didn't faze her all that much. "What if they could link telepathically? Fiora nearly destroyed us all. Aro won't risk-"

"I know what you want to say, but I won't kill Renesmee," Caius cut in brusquely, still not looking at Corin. "She's too powerful. It would be too much of a waste. We can use her to crush all our enemies. With her on our side, no-one could ever dream to oppose us again! Can't you see?"

Bella watched them in silence, not blinking, not breathing, not moving. It had only been yesterday that she'd fed, but even so, she couldn't quite ignore the burning and itching sensations clawing at the back of her throat. All around their suite – in the other rooms in the corridors the elevators the balconies the staircases the street outside holy crow – there were humans. Humans. Live humans. The sound of their hearts beating, of their blood pulsing through their veins was hard to bear, even when she wasn't drawing in breath to speak. However, she was amongst not only Volturi members, but one of their three leaders. Losing control and slaughtering droves of blood-bags wouldn't do. The Volturi would take offense. Not even Jasper would be able to save her hide in that case. No, right now, she had to grin and bear it.

Unwittingly, she was reminded of that fateful day when she'd first managed to control the overwhelming amount of sensory input that had been pummelling her poor senses ever since her transformation. She'd run outside blindly after her little panic attack, crashed through the forest, and then she'd ripped apart four human beings. She'd drained them dry without a second thought. They were dead because of her. Why did her thoughts keep returning to those four campers more than they did to others she'd killed? Maybe because they'd been the first?

Maybe it was because on that day, she'd finally understood that Isabella Marie Swan was dead. She'd finally realised and internalised that the thing that had replaced her was not only a monster, but a murderer, too.

No. No, no, no! There would be none of that nonsense. She was better now – better than ever before. She had to believe this. It had been worth it. All the pain and suffering, all the doubts and the self-reflexion, all her loss had been worth it. Jasper was right. He had to be right about everything, because if he wasn't, then he was wrong about it all, and she didn't think that she could bear to be herself if that should be the case. The transformation did something to people, sure, but that didn't have to mean that it made them evil. Bella wasn't evil. She was not going to think about the people she'd murdered, about her parents, about the friends she'd never appreciated, about the good, natural, and ordinary life that she had thrown away in exchange for an existence in a parasitic stone fortress that had nothing human left in it. She wasn't going to think about the fact that she'd married someone she'd known nothing about, and that together they had made a baby powerful enough to wipe out entire cities. No, she wasn't going to reflect on any of that. The time for questioning herself was over. If she should give into it now, she might never be able to stop again.

"We need to call Aro," Corin said, not showing any reaction to Caius's little outburst, and thankfully unaware of Bella's incoherent internal ramblings. "He asked for updates about-"

"I'll decide who we call and when, Quirina. Stop being so horribly impertinent!" He held out his hand without taking his eyes off Renesmee. "My phone."

She pushed it into his hand and marched outside without another word.

Bella watched her go, shrugged internally, and bent down over her child, placing her hands on the sides of her little face.

"What are you doing?" His tone was so sharp, she nearly flinched.

"Breaking her neck again. It was mending itself," she said, but hesitated. "You don't want her to wake up."

For a moment, he didn't say anything in reply. About ten seconds later, however, he said, "When your companion comes back with Charmion from their scouting trip, the two of you would be able to keep her in check. Perhaps it would be wise to convince her to help us end the werewolf threat? She can do it. She can strike them all down in one fell swoop."

It took a while before Bella connected the dots and figured out that Charmion was Chelsea, and another for her to get past the dramatic wording, but then, she said, "It's way too dangerous. Besides, we don't need her help. We've got Jasper, Alec, Jane, and Chelsea. It will be a curb-stomp battle. Our enemies don't stand a chance against us."

From the living room, she heard people moving, probably turning in their direction: fabric rustled and feet swished over the carpeting. Alec, Jane, and Corin were very obviously listening. Caius just glanced at her, frowning. She decided to be pro-active for once and broke her daughter's neck again, before straightening up. "Better safe than sorry," she told him. "When Jasper comes back, we can all decide what to do with Renesmee."

"That sounds…logical," he said, hesitant, and focussed on his cell. Louder, for everyone's benefit, he added, "It's from Demetri. He tells us they'll be in La Push tomorrow evening. He" – This was accompanied by a humourless and wry little chuckle – "He asks us to listen to what he has to say. Unbelievable."

"Maybe he knows something that we don't," Alec said from the living room. "After all, he's got a police officer in tow, and the authorities are investigating the Cullens."

Charlie. Charlie was still alive and kicking. That was good. The moment he got to La Push, Bella would hurry and change him – no questions, no dialogue, no explanations, no arguing. She'd bite him quickly, and he'd change. Afterward, he'd be grateful. He wouldn't want to die. Of course he wouldn't want to die. Nobody wanted that. Existing as a vampire was far superior, anyway, due to the immortality factor, but anything was always better than ceasing to exist. She couldn't lose him, too. That would simply not happen. This was something Jasper was wrong about; she was not being selfish. She wanted to save her dad, who'd otherwise be executed by the authorities because he knew too much. What daughter would ever let that happen? She couldn't. She wouldn't.

"I won't listen to a traitor," Caius retorted. "I gave him a choice. He chose to betray us. There will be no talking himself out of this one. He will die, and so will all those who stand with him. Is that understood?" Nobody answered. "Good."

Bella didn't care much. She realised that she wasn't the most observant person in the world, but she definitely got that Demetri felt nothing but disdain for her. Why the heck should she care that he would be killed? Aro might, given the fact that Demetri was the most powerful tracker known to vampire-kind, but he'd get over it. Treason trumped talent. Besides, none of that was Bella's problem. She would be all right, enjoying a place amongst the richest, most powerful, most beautiful people on the planet. Jasper, one of the most gifted immortals out there, would be by her side. Losing Renesmee would be a shame, of course, but maybe it wouldn't even come to that. Whatever happened, Bella would survive, and she'd surround herself with people who loved her. Everything was going to turn out just fine; she could feel it. There was no room for self-doubt. All the horrors she'd gone through, all the horrors she'd put others through were worth it. They had to be. The alternative was just too awful to contemplate.

4 "So the big showdown is tomorrow evening," June told Jerry, as she read Demetri the Vampire's text message, a small frown creasing her forehead. They were in her motel room, sitting by the table, eating burgers he'd gotten from a local diner. "He tells me that it's common practice to scout out the area twice before shit goes down – a day before and a few hours before. He suggests we should inconspicuously and surreptitiously ninja our way to La Push early tomorrow."

Jerry wiped his lips with a paper napkin and frowned at her from across the table. "He did not write that."

She cracked a toothy smile, put her phone down, and picked up her burger again. "Well, I enhanced the prose a bit, but the intel's solid. Want to check my communicator, officer?"

"Why do you always get this annoyingly cheerful every time we're about to dive head-first into a hot, dirty mess?"

"Because it's how I roll. Don't make me pelt you with pickles, son." She took a hearty bite, half-chewed, half-swallowed, and added, "The inconspicuous part he did write."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," he said, but the scold sounded half-baked and tired because he'd told her that a million times already, and she only did it in his exclusive presence because it annoyed him. "Inconspicuous, you say? Then the June Mobile falls flat. Is there a bus or whatever?"

"There is, indeed. My Google-fu does not fail me, grasshopper." She raised her eyebrows and watched him for a while. "It'll be good, honey. You'll see."

"We'll do what we have to," he said, his tone somewhat mellower.

She appreciated it. It wasn't easy, keeping up the Mister Grumpy façade at all times. A man needed a break every now and then. "And once it's all over, happy end and all, we'll feed the press the official and agreed-upon sob story, promise the feds that we'll stay out of their hair, and bounce merrily back to the Big Apple. Sound like a plan?"

"Sure," he said, and sighed. "It'll sound like an even better plan once I go out and get us a bottle of cabernet."

5 "What's going to happen to Atenulf?" Irina said, watching Aro with genuine curiosity.

They were in that pretty reading room again, sitting opposite each other in thoughtful silence. Earlier, he'd taken her back to her room and left her by herself for a while, as he needed to tell the good news to his co-leader, Marcus, and several other high officers of his guard. When he retrieved her again, he told her that he tried to call the third leader, Caius, but that neither he nor anyone he'd taken with him to America had picked up their phones. He'd told her not to worry, because this sometimes happened, but she couldn't help but think about Demetri and about how he might be in trouble for allying with Leah Clearwater. Still, she kept this particular thought to herself. She was getting along really well with the emperor, but she didn't know him anywhere near enough to be able to determine how he'd react to her voicing concerns about his general.

"He's still in his cell, but we brought him some animal blood," he said, and smiled a little when he saw what must have been utter disgust on her face. "I know it's repulsive, but it's more nourishing than blood from a bag, and less harmful to humans. Besides, he hasn't fed for so long, I don't think he minded much."

"If Fiora's powers can be kept muted, then maybe we won't have to treat him anymore." She was sitting upright, palms resting on her knees, looking at him expectantly. "Getting bitten by me must be pure torture. It would be better if only one person were required to suffer through it."

For a moment, he just looked right back, both frowning and smiling a little, coming across as rather puzzled. Then, he said, "You know, most others in your place would be asking what their own immediate future was going to look like, whether they'd be allowed to leave or not. You ask after a mind-consuming abomination and the hapless dullard who unwittingly spawned it." Ah, there it was, the resentment he'd displayed earlier. It was nice to understand that there were bullets not even Aro could bite.

"I am thinking of myself," she replied, for once glad that he couldn't hear her thoughts at that precise instant. "It doesn't even matter whether you'll let me leave or not. I don't want to leave. I want to keep helping. This experiment is way bigger than I am. I want to matter. That's a rather selfish way of thinking, wouldn't you say? It's what I want: to stay and help." She briefly looked down at her hands before locking eyes with him again. "I'm sure my sisters will understand."

"At some point, you'll be able to see them again, but for now, we must be cautious," he said, leaned back, and wiped a strand of his wavy, dark hair out of his pasty forehead. "I don't hate her." This he added quietly, pensively, almost as if talking to himself. "Fiora. I've always hated the thing that she is, the things that she's done, but not her as a person. I realise that now. When I looked into her mind earlier, I felt her relief; she doesn't want to be capable of what she's capable of. She never meant to hurt anyone." He chuckled wryly and shook his head. "She never hated me, even though she had every reason to."

"Well, she seemed very doubtful that anyone could ever hate you. I am, too."

He squinted at her and then laughed softly. "Are you serious?"

"Well, have you met you?" For some reason, she needed to break off eye-contact again, lest she start beaming like an idiot. It was so hard not to be infected by the charm and charisma that baked off of him like radiation. "As for Fiora, I think she's the perfect example of how people can be good despite horrible adversity."

"Do you believe the same of the dhampir you were first infected by?"

This was a bit of a tough question. She dwelled on it for a while before raising her face again, shaking her head, and shrugging. "I can't be sure."

His eyes narrowed a little. "Not even a gut feeling?"

Again, she shrugged. "Gut feeling says that the answer is no. Renesmee was spoiled to the core by her family. She got everything she wanted at all times and was constantly surrounded by sycophantic servants."

The little smile returned. "So was Fiora. It's in the nature of those things to be monsters."

"But Fiora wasn't behaving like a monster anymore when my venom quieted her powers."

"Maybe Renesmee won't, either," he said, and briefly raised his hands in a questioning gesture. "My point is, reality is never as simplistic as we'd like it to be. I kept Fiora locked up and chained to a wall for the better part of a millennium. Did I hate her monstrosity? Yes. Did I wonder whether there might be an actual person in there and not just an eldritch abomination? Yes. Oh, yes. Turns out there is, too, but that doesn't make me doubt the righteousness of my decision to keep her under lock and key." He snorted derisively. "I doubted many things, most of all myself, but never my most drastic measures."

"You did the best you could with what you had." Irina watched him calmly. "I don't suppose you'll tell me what that metal is." She knew that he was right in questioning himself and his decisions, but right now, she was just too happy about actually being part of something truly good to do the same. Also, it was better not to pry. Better to let some statements just linger in the air, on their own. If he wanted to talk about it more, he would.

He laughed again. "Nice deflection. And no, I don't always need to touch someone in order to know what they're thinking. It comes with the job."

That made her smile. "I suppose some secrets must be kept in the name of security."

"It's a good question, but I'm afraid that it's a story for another day," he said, watching her with unmasked amusement written all over his face. When he opened his mouth again to say something, the phone in his trouser pocket rang. "Oh. Good news out of America, I hope?" He took the call but didn't take his eyes off Irina. "This is highly unusual. What-" On the other side of the line, someone whispered so lowly, Irina couldn't understand them or even tell whether it was a man or a woman speaking. "You're serious." Every trace of a smile vanished from his face. "No, that will not do. That's a grave breach of protocol. No." A little pause ensued. He nodded curtly. "Immediately. I'll call you about the details." When he disconnected the call, he must have seen the huge question mark hovering over her head, because he told her, "I'm afraid our lazy days are over, dear girl. Fancy a trip to the New World?"

6 After dusk, Demetri and the others settled down at a convenient motel near Portland, taking two suites, and convening in one of them to talk through what needed to be talked through. Leah had settled down on one of the beds, Charlie was sitting at the foot of it, Demetri was standing by the window, and the three others were sitting at the worryingly wobbly, round, wooden table.

"Before you say it," Blake started, raising her right hand halfway to her facial scar and then dropping it again, "we're well aware that we're risking everything by agreeing to help you. Still, I don't really think we have a choice. We can't run forever." She scoffed. "I can't just stand by and watch my people die a slow, depressing, and inevitable death. There's three ways this gig can end, the way I see it: we win completely, we lose completely, or we lose but help Leah's kind survive. I'm down for all three. You?" She gave both of her companions – a white man named Ariel and a Japanese-Canadian woman who'd been calling herself Grace ever since she'd found Blake's group – an enquiring look. Neither protested. She turned to Demetri again. "You're putting your ass on the line for the Quileute wolves just like you did for us, back in the day. You and that other one always seemed more or less decent, as far as vampires go. Why are you working for that genocidal asshole again?"

Before he could answer this rather complicated question, Leah said, from her spot on the bed, "Yuppie Vamp here is very decent, as a matter of fact. Forget about why Psycho Albino's allowed on the Venerable Council of Elders or whatever the cool kids call it these days." She straightened up her posture, grimaced, pressed the knuckles of her right hand to her lips, and coughed. Beads of sweat erupted on her forehead and on the bridge of her nose. "If we do this right, we can get rid of that evil fuck forever, or at least stomp his ass into the ground so hard, he'll limp all the way back to Italy. We'll be free to live our lives in peace."

"What you're suggesting is nothing less than a revolution," Ariel said, frowning. His formerly rather thick Hebrew accent had started to fade since the last time Demetri had seen him. He was in his mid-thirties, of average height, lean, and wore his blond hair cropped short. Unlike Blake, he didn't sport a scar on his face, but he was missing two fingers on his strong left hand.

Demetri knew that this was the result of severe hypothermia, as Ariel and others of his family had been forced to flee Caius's wrath all the way from Tel Mond in Israel over a decade ago. Much of it had happened on foot; they'd travelled north through Syria, Turkey, through Russia, over the sea to Alaska, and then into Canada. It was a small wonder that he didn't trust vampires and that he was even less inclined to trust a member of the Volturi, no matter what Blake might say. Under Caius's leadership, the Children of the Moon had been all but wiped out. Blake led a ragtag band of no more than a hundred, if that many. They had all lost people. They were all afraid. Their situation was dire, and saying that was a huge understatement.

"Blake is right," Demetri said, trying hard not to come across as threatening. "Something needs to happen. The supernatural world needs to change if we're all to survive, and if we don't effect that change, no-one will."

"Cute, coming from a damned, undead sparkle-monster," Ariel grumbled, glowering at him with undiluted hostility.

"Actually, that soundbite came from Leah," Demetri replied, exchanging a little smile with her. Then, he turned solemn again. "If this plan works, you'll all be safe. The Quileute wolves will be safe. The vampire world will remain hidden from humanity."

"If the plan works," Ariel said. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"It'll work," Charlie said, after harrumphing. Everyone looked at him. He chuckled. "Man, it's odd being the only human being in the room. Few days ago, and my only problem was the mystery surrounding my daugh…" He trailed off, scratched his neck, and exhaled sharply. "My daughter's death."

"I'm sorry about that, Mister Swan," Blake said, looking and sounding like she meant it. "I know what it's like to lose a child, but losing a child to vampirism must be so much more awful. I'm truly sorry that this has happened to you."

From what Demetri knew about her, she was, too. This was, much like Leah, a thoroughly good person, even if she was more level-headed. That was probably a result of her experience, though. Unlike most vampires, humans and werewolves tended to learn from their past.

Charlie waved off. "Call me Charlie. Everyone else does."

"All right, then. Charlie it is."

"The winds of change are blowing," Grace said, the pleasant sound of her soprano voice catching everyone's attention. She was smiling; it took years of care off her thin and delicate-featured face. How old was she again? No older than thirty. Like Ariel, she'd lost almost everyone she'd ever loved. It was a mystery how she'd managed to retain her optimism thus far in face of all this death and misery and hopelessness. "Wouldn't it be beautiful if this dream became reality? If we could actually live normal lives?"

"Even if we do achieve peace with the vampires, our lives will never be normal," Ariel said, glancing at her irritably. "Twelve nights a year, we're as far from normal as it goes."

"It'll still make a hell of a lot of difference," Blake said, and focussed her attention on Leah. "I won't ask you whether your people are up to the challenge; I'll just assume that they are. I just want to know one thing: are you sure you're on board with this plan? Because if you have doubts, then we need to rethink our strategy very quickly. I want to do whatever I can to save my people and yours, but I won't stumble into a slaughter for no good reason."

Leah glanced at Demetri before saying, "It's crazy, but I think it'll work. I'm with Charlie on this one: not only is it the only thing we can do, but it has to work. We'll make it work."

"You lost people, too, didn't you?" Grace said, her voice so full of sympathy that Leah had a visibly hard time keeping her composure. Who could blame her? She'd gone through too much in too little time. This was a woman with a spine of steel, and no mistake.

"Several," she said, trying and failing to smile. "My cousin, uh…well, he died in Mexico. We're bringing him home to his dad."

The temperature had dropped dramatically since sundown, which was enough to conserve Jacob's body a while longer. He was well wrapped-up and they'd parked the car at the farthest end of the car park, but if a dog should happen to sniff out the corpse, or if the police were already looking for the car and a patrol happened to pass by, then there would be severe trouble.

"You might lose more people," Ariel said, not looking at anyone in particular. "We might all lose everything. Guess who never loses shit, though. Fucking vampires. Those assholes destroy everything that's good and beautiful and then get rewarded by living forever. Screw that. Screw them."

Demetri didn't have it in himself to blame the man for his dislike. A part of him hated vampires, too. Every time he thought about his home, his life, his mother – his mother, who'd died a thousand years ago without ever finding out what had happened to her only child. A chill went down his back. He pulled the sleeves of his jacket over his icy hands and crossed his arms.

"Not everything beautiful got destroyed," Grace said quietly, and touched Ariel's arm. "Also, keep in mind that not all vampires are evil. What about those who get turned against their will and who don't kill? What about Demetri? We're alive because of him."

He glanced at her. "You're too nice by half. Anyone ever tell you that?"

A sweet smile lit up her face. "You. All the time. It's why I love you so much." She snickered. "It's one of the reasons, anyway."

"I agree with Leah," Blake said, facing each of the others in turn. Her expression was level, her tone of voice firm. "And that's final. Tomorrow, we walk into the lion's den. We'll do our best, and that'll have to be enough. It'll either work or it won't."

"It'll work," Charlie repeated, this time with more vehemence.

The corners of Blake's mouth twitched slightly. "If it doesn't, we won't be there to mourn our losses."

"Comforting," Ariel murmured, slowly shaking his head from side to side. His jaw was set. There was a hard gleam in his steely-blue eyes.

"Cheer up," Grace said, and nudged him in the side with her bony, grey-cotton-sleeve-clad elbow. "Tomorrow, we'll change the entire word for the better. You'll see."

Clearly despite himself, Ariel relaxed a little. When he looked at Grace, his expression was soft. "If only for your sake, Gracie, I really hope you're right," he said, mollified.

Demetri exchanged another look with Leah. She was in visible discomfort, but she was smiling fiercely, grimly, as she gave him a little nod. He nodded back, returned her expression as best he could, and hoped that all this desperate optimism wasn't just them deluding themselves. The plan would work. The Quileute wolves would not be extinguished. Blake's people would not be extinguished. Leah would not die. Things would not go back to the way they'd always been. He'd stood by idly condoning genocide and wanton cruelty for too long. Tomorrow, it would all change, and it would change for the better. The dhampir situation would be solved. Jasper and Bella would be punished. Caius would be stopped. Everything would turn out fine.

Tomorrow, everything would change.