A/N - This chapter takes us to Volterra, two days after the Great War. I have done it in third person as I wanted to try something different and take a page from James Patterson's book(s) and write my villain solely in this POV. I like the idea of the reader "seeing" The Big Bad but not "knowing" them. Y'all REALLY don't want to be in Sulpicia's head as she's scary enough on the outside..I simply couldn't go there! I'd need an aura cleansing after each writing session with her! Here's hoping the POV change works the way I want it to. If not...~shrugs~ isn't life and art about taking risks?
Many thanks to my newly recruited beta Twiliteaddict. She is an amazing editor and has her own beautiful stories posted here on and Twilighted. Thanks also to Gasaway Alley for pre-reading and pointing out some trouble spots and giving me her love and fist pumping support!
Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and all it's fanfare, and I'm pretty sure she owns me as I love to play with her toys and spin worlds within webs aplenty.
This Thanksgiving I'm thanking Stephanie for ALLOWING us to play with her characters and do fantastic things with them. Close your eyes and imagine fellow Twihards. What if SM did not allow fanfiction for Twilight?
~faints~
We would never have met, and I've come to love a very special little group of you. Thank you SM for bringing these women in my life.
Volterra Compound, Italy
Two days after The Great War
Striding purposefully through the front doors of the Volturi compound, Santiago was met at the front desk by a frantic Gianna. The phones were ringing off the hook, and the poor girl was swamped. Completely panicked, her eyes were ravaged red from crying as she placed another post it note to her desk blotter, which was completely covered with the little yellow squares.
"Scuza me Signor Santiago, but...what the hell is going on?" Gianna hung up the phone and walked around the desk to him in very expensive couture shoes.
Santiago sighed with resignation, he truly had much more pressing matters to attend to in his Mistress's quarters; she was no doubt waiting for him, and the news he had to give - news he still had a hard time processing himself.
Pulling a tight smile across his flawless Mediterranean features, he addressed the young human acolyte, his iron clad patience a fleeting facade he now had to fake. He truly believed Gianna to be a lovely woman, and being a personal favorite of his certainly influenced his decision to try and save her since he could not save himself. The stars in her eyes blinded her when it came to his race, and it was time to bring forth the dawn of realization that the Volterra Compound was the last place she should be.
"Gianna, how about you forward all calls to voice mail and go home, child. This is no place for you anymore."
"I don't... I don't understand...I went home Friday and everything was fine. I come back today and the phones are ringing off the hook. Mostly the mates of the Guard wondering where..."
Santiago spoke to the woman as if he was speaking to a small child, "Yes, well you see, there has been...an unfortunate accident." Taking her by the shoulders, he led her back to her chair where he picked up her bag and expensive Pashmina and handed them to her gently.
"An accident?" her face blanched, and her body tightened like an animal on alert.
"Just go home Gianna. You will be fully compensated with a severance package ...and if you value your life, you will not come back."
"But...I was promised..." Hysteria danced around the edges of her tone.
Santiago's smile dropped. His tone hardened to cold steel as he steered the confused human to the front door.
"Things are different now, be glad you were given the opportunity to walk away."
Gianna's eyes widened in fear, her natural instincts finally kicking in. She turned on her impossibly high heels, and clicked away as fast as her shapely legs would carry her. Santiago sighed, watching her skitter away, wishing he could be so lucky - then proceeded onward to his dreaded destination.
The hallway was deathly quiet but for the footfalls of a few servants here and there. He smoothed his fine silk designer suit for the tenth time, annoyed with the nervous human gesture as he headed for the great stone stairwell that led down into Sulpicia's private chambers. His infamous bravado hadn't made an appearance since he left Washington after spying on Aro and his precious Guard for Sulpicia. He never fathomed the possibility he would be coming back to tell her they were all destroyed.
The Volturi figureheads were obliterated and her covert reign over the Vampire Race was in peril.
Sulpicia was going to rain down hell - what that witchling did to the Volturi in Washington would look like a sun shower comparatively.
Santiago knew something strange was going on when Sulpicia insisted the Brothers take the entire Guard to acquire or eliminate one coven and a small pack of dogs. At the time, he couldn't figure out if the order was outlandish overkill, or simply a "shock and awe" technique. They always did as she was ordered, and questioning her command was never advisable.
He figured spying on the assured victory would be one of the easier assignments given to him-until he arrived in the sleepy town of Forks, and witnessed one of the most terrifying battles he had ever seen.
The Volturi Guard in its full compliment was supposed to be an unstoppable juggernaut, yet now they were nothing but burnt slag strewn about in a field across the oceans.
He shivered with the technicolor memory of the Great War which took place on that sandy battlefield. Hundreds of immortal beings met their end in ravenous, cursed flames. He could not believe the carnage.
He had also never seen true shifters before. When they leapt through the ringed wall of fire, they charged, tearing and ripping; deadly as Cerebus protecting the gates of hell. However, the wolves were but playful puppies compared to that witchling, Bella - who was more powerful than anyone expected. Aro's first mistake was underestimating her, and Santiago wondered grimly if Sulpicia would do the same. He doubted his Mistress would take foolish chances considering this was no mere witch. Thousands of generations had come and gone in waiting for this one; The Golden Eyed Queen. Sulpicia's prophesied nemesis.
With every steel strand of his immortal being, Santiago battled the cold dread creeping across his body as he approached to Sulpicia's quarters. He would rather nail his nut-sac to the floor and take off at a dead run than give her the news he was burdened to bring. The weight of the cliché line, "don't shoot the messenger", clanged around in his gut like sharp, rusty iron. Arriving at the top of the stairs, he peered down, down, down into the darkness. The ancient stone steps spiraled all the way to the bottom in the Fibonacci sequential perfection its stone mason had intended.
The closer he came to the lowermost landing, the more he felt like he was descending into the depths of hell itself.
Perhaps he was.
Her office was to the right of the corridor, but he knew exactly where she would want to meet him, and it would not be there.
She would want to be in a place of power, and for her, this would be the room she affectionately referred to as the Oubliette. Santiago had only been in there many times over the years, and would certainly rather forget them. The first time was his training session with her twenty nine years ago. After enduring months of torture and degradation of the most horrific varieties, he left the room knowing only one thing- he was hers. He did whatever she asked without question and in return he was her silent left hand for decades.
His prestigious, yet clandestine position had made Santiago feel quite smug his Mistress confided in him things unknown to her mate and political puppet, Aro. But now he was dead, and Santiago was bitter about dealing with the aftermath of the Volturi's failure due to arrogance. Why should he suffer for Aro's failure? His fear rolled into outrage and back again in a lurching flash of emotion.
Upon entering the large room, Santiago was blasted with a depth of cold that even he could feel pricking along his diamond hard flesh. The blackness of the walls sharpened the dark bite of the atmosphere. Made of highly polished black marble, the walls reflected every movement in the room. Sulpicia liked to watch herself and those unlucky enough to be in the room with her.
Not even fire could warm this room, a large, black-bricked fire pit burned low in the middle of the room; blue flames casting an eerie wash of purple shadow everywhere. Torches hissed and spit curses at those who entered from their sconces in the wall. His Mistress cared not for the bright glare of fluorescence, preferring fire over filament always. The size of the whole apartment itself was staggering - about the size of a football field, but most of it was storage space for...livestock. Over a thousand square feet of the front end of the space was her "play" and work area. Mistress loved to experiment with blood magics, and what better room to do it in than a torture chamber?
Santiago walked briskly past a surgical steel table with leather restraints, shivering at his own memories on it's warmth sucking surface, which gleamed even in the low light. It looked so sterile. So clean. A few drops of water sparkled and winked under the firelight. The cleaning crew had just been through, but the entire room was still heavy with the spicy copper scent of blood. They could clean it away but it was always there, a delicious siren of need hanging in the air. He could taste it on his tongue, feel it plunging him into the depths of bloodlust and unhinged wanting.
Garbled moans drifted from across the far end of the room. Santiago could make out the magical invocations Sulpicia's mages used to unlock the magically-enforced chains used to subdue the newborns. Mistress relished in the resilience of a freshly made Newborn. If she wanted, she could torture them for years before she would grow tired of them. They also still still bled brilliant red - a perk she enjoyed lasciviously. One of Santiago's first jobs for her was securing and filling her supply of playthings. He shivered at the memory of the vivid pools of crimson Newborns spilt copiously from their bodies. Rivers of blood she would bathe in; from boot to neck, she would be clad in blood-red leather, so the splatter would never show on her.
Taking a knee in front of the raised dais, as he'd been trained, Santiago surveyed with wary trepidation Sulpicia's prize collection of torturous tools on the back wall; his eyes scanning fearfully for the dreaded bottle with the strange glyphs. It was the most terrifying tool in her arsenal. Used only in times of extreme ire and madness.
It was not there!
He warred between being scared and relieved; relieved it was not there considering the news he was charged and bound to deliver; scared because it was ALWAYS there. Where was it? Was she about to use it on him? Or even more frightening still, did Sulpicia know it was missing? Pushing past it, locking it down and tugging on the padlock once then twice, Santiago reasoned he had bigger things to worry about than how she was going to torture him.
Diminutive feet slapped wetly against the floor, a suctioning sticky sound as she approached. He lowered his eyes to the floor, Sulpicia's blood-soaked bare feet came into view against the shiny black marble in front of him. He raked his eyes up to her knee, daring not to go any further as it would require lifting his bowed head.
He already knew. She would be completely naked.
This would not bode well. Santiago jostled for a feel of his Mistress's mood. Sulpicia's bloodlust was unparalleled. Torturing, begetting blood and pain, was her way of letting off steam. A macabre art to say the very least. But when she bathed in it, reveling carnally by wearing it like a second skin, she was at her most dangerous. It was a high for her. Her mood afterwards was charged with insane amounts of power which could turn volatile as she was so emotionally erratic; impulsive and unpredictable. Capable of crumbling into mad recklessness if not handled properly. Santiago learned one thing about handling her properly. Give her what she wants no matter what the cost.
Her unseen glare burned into his skin, leaving a brand of shame and submission as her power radiated hotly between them. He kept his head lowered, even through the tremors of unshakable desire to lick the sweet sticky blood from her feet. Everything in her demeanor demanded subservience. Ancient to the point of being alien, his Mistress did not look a day over twenty years of age. Long believed to be a goddess of an ancient pantheon, no one, save Lord Aro, knew of her origins. She was more than vampire; he often thought of her as a demon - cloaked in the cruel guise of divine beauty.
"Rise, Santiago, and give me news."
Slowly he came to his feet before her. As he cautiously took her in, his eyes widened at the glistening oily slick of dark red blood completely coating her nude form. Her face was splattered, ice blue eyes glittering sharply beneath the signs of slaughter. Glossy gore-soaked black hair was coiled tightly on top of her head, pulling her sharply defined features into taut, harsh lines. Locking that deadly cold gaze on him, her impatience filled the room, stifling him with its crushing weight. A tapered, perfectly manicured bloody finger pressed into his crisp white linen shirt, staining it like a gunshot wound.
"I can smell your fear. Speak!" Her voice was like a razor, seeking skin to flay and sinew to slice.
"The Golden Eyed Queen lives and has destroyed your army, my Mistress."
Silence hung in the air as if the world stopped turning. In that moment, Santiago wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
Her eyes became molten with madness as she moved forward striking like a cobra, grabbing him tightly by the throat, lifting him until his feet dangled helplessly above the marble floor.
"You lie," she hissed. The scorpion sting of her building rage infected him like poison, making him feel dizzy and weak even though he knew this was a physical impossibility. Her nails dug in to his flesh, piercing his impermeable skin like a hot knife through butter. Besides the Children of the Moon, Sulpicia was the only being Santiago knew of who could rip a vampire to shreds with very little effort. He did not struggle in her grip, knowing it would only vex her further.
His response came out reedy, thin as paper, "On my honor, Mistress, it is the truth. The Striga live on! The Three have become One and Adrastea's curse upon the Volturi brothers was fulfilled with a vengeance by a blood relative."
"How did this happen?" she spat as she released him and he crumpled in supplication before her, the bloody stain from her hand wreathed around his neck. "The blood was thinned out! Aro assured me Xandru and Ioana were the last."
Santiago was not surprised she showed no signs of grief at the death of her mate, Aro. She was probably more pissed he wasn't here to answer to her for being a failure, for weakening her hold over the vampire race. Now she would have to reveal herself as the true power behind the brothers or risk anarchy.
However, the legend of the Curse and The Golden Eyed Queen coming full circle was her worst nightmare. Sulpicia would be an animal on the defense for her territory, and she was very territorial. She would want all information he could give her on Bella Swan, so that is what Santiago supplied despite the blade of her wrath at his throat.
"It appears Leda of the Striga made it to the New World. Mated with a shifter of Taha Aki's line."
Sulpicia's face flinched at the mention of his name. In all his years of service to his Mistress, he never fully understood her obsession in finding the Pricolici shifter Taha Aki. Her tenacity rivaled even that of Caius and his mad hunt for The Children of The Moon. It was she who told Caius of the whereabouts of Taha Aki's line as soon as she discovered them in the Pacific North West of America.
Santiago paused in his account and watched her pace the room as she digested the details of his information like a general preparing for war. She excelled in war. He could even believe she invented the concept.
She stopped and shook her head with disbelief. Turning slowly to him, her face was grim, malevolence simmering below the surface.
"Fate is a cruel, fickle bitch, Santiago."
"Yes Mistress, that she is." No crueler than the fearsome creature before me, Santiago thought to himself.
"Tell me more about the hybrid witch."
He noticed she refused to call her The Golden Eyed Queen. Perhaps she dared not grant the name any power by uttering it, he thought as he straightened to deliver her request. He couldn't imagine her being afraid of anything.
"Her name is Bella Swan, and she is undergoing the change as we speak. Her bonded mate is Edward of the Cullen Coven."
"She took down my Lords and my Guard before her transition?" Her words were clipped, the instinctual need to know her foe quickening within her, erasing the madness from her eyes, replacing it with cold calculation.
"Yes."
"How?"
"She had...help. The Shifters on the La Push reservation, the Cullens and..."
Santiago looked to the floor, unable to form the words that burned in the back of his throat.
"Tell me. Now." Her voice pulled at him, wrapping him in bewitchment, squeezing forth truth like a boa constrictor crushing the life out of its prey.
"Alec, or I mean, Xandru. It appears he was in collusion with his great niece...gave her...The Scriptures."
Sulpicia's face twisted into a melting mask of barely controlled rage, then her mouth opened wide to let free a mighty leonine roar; the deafening echo of it filling Santiago's once silent chest with the strong beating of fear.
Her pacing started anew; around and around the fire pit she walked as the flames grew, danced, swayed and beckoned, climbing higher with her every pass.
"I warned Aro his fascination and devotion to those Witch Twins would bite him in the ass. Cursed fool - he earned his demise! His need to collect the "talented" of our race was a sickness I indulged far too long with a blind eye. His arrogance was his downfall, and now? Now Santiago?" she stomped over to him and stood before his rigid, frightened body.
"Now we must finish this. We must act quickly, before the witch realizes how powerful she really is. She can't find The Source before we do." Her eyes narrowed shrewdly contemplating something devious, then her face lit up in a bone chilling smile.
"Perhaps we should let her find The Source."
"Mistress?" Santiago asked meekly. Naked and primal, the drying blood coating her and cruel smile tugging at the corners of her thin lips terrified him. The flames of the fire pit roared in response, while eerie shadows caressed and slithered over her body, making her appear even more sinister.
"Santiago, I have searched for The Source for over 2000 years and I have yet to find it. I'm not meant to find it. The witch is. In fact...we could push her along to make sure she has no choice but to find it."
Turning, she went to her dolorous menagerie of bloodletting devices. Santiago sucked in a breath when it became clear Sulpicia did in fact NOT know the terrible bottle was missing.
Upon realizing its absence her hands curled into fists and her whole body went stiff as she threw back her head and let loose a ravaging scream which filled the entire chamber. If there were windows present in this space, Santiago swore they would have shattered from her high pitched peal of rage. His eyes snatched upon the empty glass box that had housed the terrible bottle just as Sulpicia ripped it from the shelf, turned and whipped it at his feet. He stood stoically still, eyes fastened on the back wall behind her, not daring to look in her eyes.
She was in front of him in a breath, her voice a steely tone that demanded he listen, "It seems we have a spy still within our midst Santiago, I smell Ourosboros, only they would be foolish enough to take that bottle from me. Plant spies in MY house! I will see to their elimination! Who was Alec's sire?" she demanded.
"Eleazar Morales, retired Guard."
Her eyes narrowed in tight contemplation, "Perhaps it's time to pay Eleazar a little visit...maybe even bring him out of retirement."
Turning on her heel, she strode to the fire, her arms held away from her body, palms up, as she spoke in incantation in an old language unknown to Santiago. He had only ever heard her speak it. Perhaps it was best he didn't understand what she was saying when she used it as usually the darkest of magics would follow.
The flames undulated, weaving higher with the rising volume of her voice. Stepping over the black brick encasing of the fire pit, she walked into the brilliant orange blue flames. The blood boiled and burned away from her skin like a dark varnish chemically peeling from the whitest wood. The wind stirred the flames again and they licked at her skin until she was swaddled in fire, which fell away like silk to reveal her blood red leathers. She then disappeared, her malicious laughter still ringing in the air. After she was gone, Santiago dropped to the floor, shamefully shaking in fear and terror.
The power of Hell had been unleashed without a chaperon, fueled by black rage and vengeance. Santiago almost pitied Eleazar; if he was in fact Ourosbouros, then it was he who anchored Alec to his past as Xandru. For that he would pay dearly, and if he had the bottle with him...Santiago merely shuddered at the thought of how Sulpicia would collect upon that debt.
Broken Doll has received the honor of being nominated in the "Best Darkward" category in the "Immortal Sin Awards" hosted by the Darkest Temptations blog!
I'm pleased to say Goldenmeadow's "Surrrender" was also nominated in this category!
Blessings rain down as my guest writer piece, "Seeking Asylum", chapter 3 of Goldenmeadow's outtake reel for Dead Confederates - Rebelward Without a Cause - was also nominated for "Best Dark Femme".
"Sugar" written by Winterstale was also nominated in this category. Her collaboration with Rosmarina "Angelus Ex Abyssus" was nominated for "Best Darkmett" . The ladies from the DW are representing!
Goldenmeadow and Winterstale are extremely talented authors, nominated in other categories as well. Their collaboration, "The Tigresse of Csejte," a contender for multiple categories - "Craziest Mofo", "Most Creative Ways to Kill a Character" and "I cheered For It Death"!
Voting is up until Friday October 15! The link is darksper ((dot)) blogspot((dot)) com.