Sooo, college has started again and I'm TRYING to write, really I am, but I seem to have been swept up into a whirlwind of boozing and partying and frantic last-minute studying.
Can I play the hunter?
No wonder we're in chains.
Yes I am the hunter.
Time to feed the hunger…
It's one of the local-ish dive bars, a couple of blocks from the house, where the boys are waiting for their meal. I've been here twice before under different guises. The first time I was a lost child. That was when I was twelve. I came in, asked a man to use his cell phone to call my mom, and within an hour I had him tailing me back to the building, half-drunk as he stalked me through the streets, on my way to meet my 'mom.' They'd liked the tang that the beer added to his blood. The second time, just before turning fourteen, I'd donned a school uniform. It was really nothing fancy – a small skirt and shirt and tie, patent Mary-Jane's, and a small crucifix slung around my neck; the perfect Catholic schoolgirl. I'd told them that my friend had fallen off a wall near the docks and broken her ankle. They followed me all the way back, no questions asked.
Tonight is a different story.
The thing about hunting humans is that other humans will occasionally notice. The boys know how to dispose of the bodies without them ever being found, but that still won't stop the odd missing persons report from cropping up. The last thing I need is for someone to recognise my face and report me, too. However, there are only so many bars, clubs and the like within our general area. I need to visit these places sparingly, to stay as far under the radar as I possibly can. Hunting for food is one thing. Hunting for sport is another. But hunting witnesses is a whole 'nother story altogether – an inconvenient and dodgy affair. It's exactly the kind of thing that would tip off the Volturi – the ones that hunt the hunters. Living the literal night life requires a dark kind of subtlety and the switching-up of looks when returning to the scene of the crime.
Tonight I'm leaning towards a more adult disguise. My hair is down, splayed around my face. My lips are dark scarlet and my eyes are lined with black. I'm wearing my tightest jeans, my highest heels, and a white lace top that cuts low over my chest. The sweet thing about places like this is the fact that nobody bothers to check I.D's. I can swan in and out as I please. As soon as I stroll through the doors, heels clacking against the grimy tile floors, I catch the distinct scent of whiskey. My stomach clenches. It's so tempting. I want a drink, but in a situation like this, I need to be at my sharpest. I can't afford to be caught off-guard. I have twenty grams of pot with my name on it back home - I can wait. I mean, I'm not an animal…
Of course, I'm perched on a bar stool less than thirty seconds later, practically salivating.
I try to act confident. With the right makeup and the right attitude, I seem older than my real age, but I sure as shit don't pass for twenty one. I try my best not to fidget in my seat. The bartender – a man in his late forties with hard eyes, a thick beard and a beer belly – materializes in front of me. My heart quickens as he gives me a once-over, scrutinizing my face. I smile coolly, one eyebrow perking a little. I don't doubt that he gets plenty of under-agers, but the last thing I need is to be kicked out and have to find a new place to hunt. Not only will it waste time, but if I get thrown out on my ass I might not ever be able to come back. This place is prime – full of drunk blood for the taking. Anton will be pissed if I have to stop hunting here just because I couldn't resist the itch for alcohol.
"What can I getcha?" The bartender asks, wiping absentmindedly at a glass.
I exhale, my smile morphing into something genuine. "Gin," I reply, reaching for the wad of cash in my cleavage. Just as I do, the hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise. I stiffen. My smile becomes a smirk. I tuck the money away again.
"On me," a new voice intercedes. I turn to find a middle-aged man in a plaid shirt looming over my shoulder. He's drunk. His eyes are bleary and his smile is wobbly, but the way his body is angled around me make his intentions crystal clear. I glance behind him, where two of his friends are hovering, swaying drunkenly.
Perfect.
"Thanks," I murmur, taking the glass when it's handed to me and taking a generous swig.
vVv
So, as it happens, work isn't all that enthralling after the first four hours.
I'd reported to Aro like a good little minion, braved Caius' haughty glower and the looming presence of Felix and Demetri – all at seven o'clock in the motherfucking morning. Do you know the last time I was up at seven a.m. without having pulled an all-nighter? Fucking never. But up I got, only half-asleep anyway, and groomed myself into what I'd thought an acceptable secretary would look like. Aro seemed pleased, at least. Marcus ignored me and Caius gave me a harsh once-over before turning away as well. It was a relief, to say the least. I don't know much about seven-a.m. Ronnie, but something tells me that she's a lot less concerned with her wellbeing than properly-rested Ronnie.
Aro prattled and I tried to listen, really I did, but my eyes kept drooping and I kept unconsciously itching at the track mark hidden beneath my blouse. Eventually, Aro summoned Renata to bring me to my new work space and fill me in on my duties and such.
To say that I was not in the mood for this is an understatement.
Still, Renata seemed nice enough, and I was still employing my Be-The-Best-Secretary-In-The-World-And-Save-My-Coven's-Stupid-Law-Breaking-Asses plan. This included being as polite and pleasant as my soul could take. Aro would know if I fucked up.
"Oh, and Veronica? I need you to be in the Library at twelve, sharp. I'll have Demetri show you where it is."
I launched a sleepy glance at Demetri, who seemed as stone-faced as ever. Wonderful. Fantastic. That was just terrific. Still, I need these people on my side, and so I just nodded politely and followed Renata out of the Throne Room.
Conversation was brief between us as I tailed her through hallways and down dodgy flights of stairs. I'd passed the desk the night before, with Heidi, but I guess Aro didn't trust me to find my way back. Still, this time I was determined to memorise my way. I tried to picture every turn we took and corridor we passed as if I had a bird's-eye view of a map. It was how I learned my routes when I was luring in a new area. More often than not, the people I targeted were dangerous – older men with one thing on their minds. Sometimes, if I was lucky, I'd snag two or three of them. This was not something I ever took lightly. If they grew restless or decided to jump the gun before we reached the nest, I'd have to make a quick escape. Getting away unscathed meant knowing my shortcuts. If I was going to find my way around this rat-maze, I was going to need to apply the same technique.
Renata led me to a huge oak desk, behind which stood tall filing cabinets and a tropical fish tank. I took a moment to boggle at it, mesmerised by all the tranquil, colourful little creatures. As soon as Renata came within five feet of them, they went into a frenzy, squirming frantically to the back of the tank. The desk was littered with staplers and pens and all the usual junk you'd expect from a secretary's space. A big, new-looking computer was plonked down just to the right of all of it, causing a fresh dose of panic to seize me round the belly.
"I don't know how to use that," I'd choked, feeling the colour trickle slowly out of my face. To my surprise, Renata grinned.
"I guarantee you've just made Santiago's day. I'll send him down to you in a while. Honestly, it's mostly there for little things. Santiago's the big computer guy around here."
I didn't know who Santiago was and why I'd made his day and so all of this meant nothing to me. It was finally beginning to sink in that I'd actually have to sit at this desk for fourteen hours out of the day and do a job that I was completely clueless about. Renata caught my shudder.
"Don't worry," she said gently. At that moment I'd vaguely recalled her reassuring me when we were packing stuff with Esme, telling me that everything was going to be fine. "Aro told me to brief you on your duties. He'll talk to you more thoroughly about them later."
So apparently I had to answer calls, sort through the emails that Santiago would send me, sort the mail if it came, direct visiting vampires if any of them happened through, and prepare and organise files for the Volturi's "missions," whatever that meant.
"Honestly, it's not all that challenging," Renata shrugged.
Well, she sure had that right.
It's half past eleven in the morning and I am unimpressed. I am yet to receive a visit from the Volturi's resident tech-savvy vampire, and so the computer remains intimidating and untouched. I've mastered the stapler, worked out the little hole-punching device, and chatted with two telemarketers. Oh, and I've named all the fish. And spent more time than I'd like to admit spinning around in my big whirly chair.
It's more than a welcome surprise when a familiar face appears at my new domain.
"How's work going?" Eleazar smiles, leaning his forearms against the large frame at the front of my desk. I eye him curiously for a moment. I'm still not used to vampires behaving so much like humans.
"Uh, okay, I guess," I reply. He notices the doubt in my voice and chuckles.
"What exactly have you been doing?"
I pause for a moment, recalling the last four dragging hours before replying in monotone: "I named all the fish."
Eleazar laughs again. "Nothing too strenuous, then."
"Hey, there are triplets in there. I had to be thrice as inventive."
Eleazar smiles a bright, open smile. It's kind of surprising – maybe even a little off-putting. I sink back in my seat, suspicion causing me to hesitate. Eleazar barely knows me. Hell, scratch that – he doesn't know me at all. I'm just some random human that met the wrong end of his friend's Mercedes and ended up causing a whole lotta trouble. Why is he being kind to me? Fuck, why on earth did he volunteer to cross the entire freaking world just to make sure I settled in okay? Nobody does that kind of thing…not without wanting something in return. What does this vampire want from me?
Apparently my acting skills aren't limited to baiting sleazebags, seeing as the next words out of Eleazar's mouth are: "Well, your spirits are up, at least."
I smile with a practiced expression, focusing on keeping my heart steady. "No point in sulking, I guess."
Eleazar nods in agreement, just as a new face strolls into the lobby.
This new vampire is young…ish. Only a few years older than me physically, I reckon. He looks grown-up, but there's a youthfulness to his eyes and expression that make me think he's not as old as he seems.
"Uh, hi," he says, waving with an awkward-looking twitch of his hand as he approaches the desk at human speed. This hits me up wrong, and I frown.
"Ronnie, this is Santiago," Eleazar says, making the necessary introductions.
Oh, right. The computer guy. I scrutinize him carefully as he leans one arm on the countertop in front of my desk. The movement looks awkward, just like his wave, and I can't figure out what his game is. He's tall, but not very well-muscled. He must have some sort of wicked supernatural talent, because I doubt very much he's a fighter. He's wearing a uniform – sort of. There's a cloak billowing around him, the hood skewed haphazardly around his shoulders, and a Volturi crest necklace swinging against his chest. However, beneath the cloak he's got a green check shirt and a pair of slacks – not exactly what I would have suspected from a Volturi soldier. His hair is shoulder-length, brown-black, and looks like it hasn't seen a comb for the better half of the last century.
I have to force my frown not to sink deeper into a scowl. The more I examine him, the more confused I get – and I hate that. I'm good at reading people. I have to be. Anyone I can't decipher usually sends me skedaddling in the opposite direction, purely out of self-preservation. That isn't an option now, though, and my back straightens so tightly it starts to ache.
Eleazar's brows are tighter now. He's clearly wondering what exactly about this new vampire has spooked me. Santiago himself shifts his weight from one foot to the other, even though he's still leaning on the desk, and it makes my teeth hurt.
My voice works before my brain does. "Why are you doing that?" I demand, frustration bubbling past the common sense that tells me that talking back to my new superiors is more than likely a no-no.
Santiago bristles, alarmed. "Doing what?" He asks.
"Standing like a human," I grit out, sweeping a meaningful glance over his poorly-executed imitation of human posture. "Or…trying to stand like a human."
Santiago straightens up, looking a little self-conscious. This, too, is unexpected, and it only fuels my irritation. Why isn't he asserting his position? Threatening to slit my throat with his fingernail?
"Uh, well, you're human," Santiago replies, darting a wary glance between Eleazar and me. "I…I was trying not to scare you, I guess. By moving too suddenly or anything."
I raise one brow, serious non-amusement caked all over my face. Eleazar cuts in before I can overstep my mouth again. "Santiago," he says, trying to hide a smile. "She's probably spent less time around humans than you have in the past few years."
Santiago has the decency to look embarrassed. "Right. Uh. Sorry," he mumbles. I sigh deeply, sending my most vicious, hateful vibes towards the skies at whatever Deity is currently having a LOL at my expense.
I hate everything.
vVv
Eleazar leaves so Santiago can learn me up on this horrendous lump of technology. He shuffles in behind my desk, keeping a decent distance between us, ready to impart some wisdom.
He so has no idea what he's in for.
After a solid twenty minutes of repeatedly attempting to teach me which button does what, Santiago looks crestfallen. Clearly, he's taking my lack of progress personally. I dither over whether or not I should explain to him that I'm pretty much just an idiot before deciding to let him suffer. Hell, I've gotta get my kicks somewhere.
"When was the last time you used a computer?" Santiago asks weakly. He's hunched over as if he's in physical pain, his thick, dark eyebrows knitted upwards in silent anguish.
I discipline myself against rolling my eyes. Or smacking my forehead against the keyboard. "I dunno," I reply. "Third grade, I think." I remember doing some weird spelling games (which I sucked at) on big, blocky machines with the other kids. It wasn't the most riveting activity of all time, which might explain my lack of interest in what is clearly Santiago's passion.
Santiago gapes at me as if he can't believe what he's hearing. I inch away, my face creased in response to his bugging eyes.
"You're a twenty-first-century teenage girl," he moans. "How is that even possible?"
I shrug, not caring enough to concentrate. My head is starting to hurt again. A dizzy, lightheaded kind of hurt. Staring at a bright screen isn't helping. At least when I'm sitting down, I can ignore how weak I feel. It's been days…
"I mean, what did you even do?" Santiago rants dramatically, seemingly wounded on my behalf.
"I dunno," I repeat, trying to distract myself from the low ringing in my ears. "I slept. Hunted. Watched TV. Played games."
"Video games?" There's actually hope in his voice. I'm finding it hard to believe that this guy is even a vampire, let alone a Volturi guard.
"No," I answer, deciding to savour the moment where I crush his hopes. "Card games. I liked Poker and War. Michael liked Bullshit. Jesse liked Snap because it made me jumpy. Anton taught me Chess. I never won. Not one single game. But I loved it…"
I trail off when I feel my voice thicken. It's silent for several long seconds before Santiago murmurs an apology.
"That was insensitive of me," he says quietly.
"Whatever," I mutter, trying to fight off the weighted feeling in my limbs. "What does this button do?"
"Uh, that turns the computer off."
"Great," I say, full of sarcastic enthusiasm. "Let's do that."
I push the button. Nothing happens. Frowning, I do it again. And again. Just as my temper is really beginning to itch, Santiago clears his throat – another human action.
"Er, you have to hold it down, for a few seconds," he says, reaching past me to do just that. I exhale deeply as the screen fades to black, a hundred thousand percent done with this day. I want a drink and a needle and a cool bed. Last night I was far too hot. I tossed and turned and woke up over a dozen times, not used to the heat – or the loneliness.
The overwhelming grief lunges over me again. I hunch up in my chair, feeling small. I don't have time to feel that way for long, though, because two dark-clad figured materialize without warning in the middle of the lobby.
My heart crashes into my stomach when Felix and Demetri pause mid-conversation to glance in my direction.
"Hey, guys," Santiago says offhandedly. "Where are you two off to?"
I stop breathing when they appear right in front of my desk. Clearly, they don't care about frightening me with their speed. My headache kicks things up a notch in response to the dark fear clenching my stomach tight. Of all the people I didn't need to see today.
"Just a quick trip to France," Demetri replies casually. "We're looking into the issue with the club. I just have to track down the informer – get some more details. Shouldn't take long."
"We'll be back by morning," Felix adds. A dark smirk curls his mouth upwards. "Tell Heidi to save us some live ones."
"You might beat her home. She hasn't left yet," Santiago chuckles amiably.
I'm not concentrating. My mind is whirring, thinking back.
"Demetri will find them."
"He won't. They'll run."
"No one can outrun Demetri."
I stare up at the vampire who, not twenty-four hours previous, had his hand around my throat, a hair away from exterminating me.
He's a tracker – the best in the world. He's the one who's going to bring my coven to so-called justice. Jesse can track, too, but not on that level. Heidi's right – they can't evade him.
Not without my help.
I stay silent as the three Volturi exchange conversation. Fuck me. How has this not occurred to me before? From what I've learned, every gift has its kink, no matter how small. Demetri's must, too. No matter how good a tracker he is, he can't be unstoppable. He's got to have some weakness. If I can find out what it is, maybe I can throw him off-course. Maybe I could even find a way to warn my coven personally…
I stop my thought in its tracks before my accelerating heartbeat can give me away. I need to find out about Demetri's power. I can't outright ask about it – that would be far too suspicious. But how else am I going to do it?
My lips quirk upwards when the answer comes to me.
I'm going to be the most fucking pleasant-ass secretary they ever fucking had.
"When we get back," Felix says. "We'll relay the details of our trip to you, so you can record it."
Thankfully, I realize he's speaking to me. I grin (not too brightly – after all, I'm still supposed to be new and scared and homesick…not that I'm not) and nod. I lean forward, folding my arms on the desk and resting my chest just on top of them.
"Can do," I reply, looking Felix straight in the eye.
Demetri's brow rises, and he exchanges quick glances with Felix and Santiago. "You're awfully chipper today," he says to me, looking me up and down. My shoulders bob.
"Pouting's not going to get me anywhere, is it?" I counter.
Just like Eleazar, this kind of answer pleases them.
"That's the spirit," Felix smirks, leaning his elbow on the countertop. Unlike Santiago earlier, his attempt at nonchalance is a lot more practiced and natural. He winks at me.
Relief unknots my stomach. This is the kind of game I can play.
I raise one brow and mirror his smirk, watching his eyes flicker over me. Demetri grips his forearm and tugs it off the counter just as Felix notices my artfully displayed cleavage.
"For God's sake, let's go," he sighs, hauling Felix away. Beside me, Santiago shakes his head as the pair of them disappear.
"Don't pay him any mind," he says, edging around my desk again – more speedily this time. He watches the spot where they exited, a fond but scathing smile on his face.
I'm distracted from my mini-victory by a vengeful throb behind my eyes. My head falls forward and I catch it in my hand, palming automatically at my forehead.
"He always does shit like that. He's harmless re…are you okay?"
I can't look up at him. My eyes are closed, but the blackness is still managing to swim and squirm before me.
"Headache," I grind out. My body feels so heavy it's almost numb.
"Oh. Don't you have any pills?"
The word sends every nerve in my body flaring up in response. "Pills?" I echo weakly. No, I don't. Everything's at home – my sleeping pills, my E. Fuck, what I wouldn't kill for-
"You know – aspirin, isn't it? For headaches?"
Oh. That. "No," I mutter. "No pills."
I finally manage to crack my eyes open, only to be met with Santiago's face, creased with concern.
Aw, sweet, I think cynically.
"It'll clear up," I tell him, forcing my hand into my lap. A fresh ripple of pain echoes the movement and I have to fight not to wince. "Really, man. It's all good."
"If you say so." I must look like a real bag of dicks, because Santiago still appears doubtful. "Maybe we'd better wait until tomorrow for another lesson."
"Huh? Oh, sure. Whatever."
"We have one of those water-fountain things in the human bathroom," Santiago gestures towards a door that, before, I'd assumed was a broom closet or something. "I'd get some if I were you."
"Sure," I repeat.
With one last glance back at my face, Santiago vanishes, giving me the space I need to curl up and whimper in private.
vVv
My headache does recede, after a while. When I'm positive that my legs aren't going to turn to useless jello beneath me, I risk clambering out of my chair and clacking my way to the bathroom in search of a drink of water and a mirror to cringe at.
I find both. The water really does help, even though bending over the fountain is a bit of a chore and it does fuck up my lipstick a little. When I face the mirror, I feel a little rush of relief. I was expecting to see a complete horror-show with the way Santiago reacted. In reality, the only evidence that I'm suffering is the fact that my face is deathly pale and pasty. I dab at my skin with some paper towels, examining the dark circles under my eyes. I frown, vowing to rummage for concealer in the infinite armory of makeup back in my apartment.
A shrill ringing noise drags me back to reality. The phone. Swearing darkly, I chuck the paper towels into the garbage can under the sink and dart back into the lobby where, by my desk, I've got more company.
Deciding to deal with the louder problem first, I ignore the vampire as I scoot around my desk and snatch up the phone.
"Yeah?" I breathe into the receiver. The vampire's brows perk at my lack of professionalism. An Italian voice bleats foreign words into my ear.
"I don't speak Italian," I interrupt dully, eyeing up Jane's pretty brother over the front of my desk, suspicious as to why he's loitering here.
"Un attimo," the voice says. There's a beat of silence, a click, and then: "Would you be interested in buying Toner?"
My eyes slit briefly before I cover the mouthpiece with my finger. "Do we need Toner?" I ask the vampire, unable to keep the point-blank unimpressed snark out of my tone.
He shakes his head, brows still high. "No."
"No," I parrot bleakly, this time speaking to telemarketer numero three.
"Are you sure-?"
"Yeah, bye." I hang up, sighing deeply.
"You're not very good at answering the phone," the vampire states. I cut my dreary eyes up to him, silently praying for an extra bout of patience. Or a noose.
"Yeah, whatever. Tell me that again when there's someone worth speaking to on the other end." This earns me a minute smile. My soul might be on the precipice of total death, but my hormones aren't. I almost – almost – manage to crack a smile in return. "What do you want?"
"Come with me," he orders.
"No," I scoff thoughtlessly.
The tiny, amused smile vanishes, replaced by a slight frown. "I'm Alec," he says.
"Cool."
His frown deepens. "Don't you know who I am?"
The words Witch Twin spring to mind, but something in the back of my mind tells me not to allow them past my lips.
"I've heard the stories," I reply, more careful this time.
He's almost scowling now. I frown back at him, trying to unravel the reason for his mood. What, is he pouting because his awe-inspiring power isn't striking the fear of God in me? It would, I think, on a normal day. If I were here with Anton and Pete and Michael and Jesse, I'd be hanging back behind them. But I'm not – I'm alone – and I'm far too tired and sad and too in pain to care much about what this guy might do to me.
"And you…don't…care?"
This seems to perplex him. Maybe he's even a little angry. My headache is rearing its head again, making it hard to think straight. "I probably should, shouldn't I?" I sigh. I've heard of the things he's done. Jesse told me that Alec's power was the single reason the Volturi were able to tear down the vampire empire that existed before them. If he can dismember entire empires, I don't want to imagine what he could do to one meagre, sass-mouthed human. I can't help my boys if I'm dead.
"Why are you here?" I ask again, weary in the extreme.
"I was told to bring you to the library," he finally explains.
"Oh," I reply. I can't even be curious. I'm too wrecked. "Right. Lead the way, I guess."
Alec gestures with his arm, and I circle my desk again, tailing him down the same hallway that Renata brought me down earlier.
"How did you manage to get captured by the Cullens?" Alec asks out of the blue.
I don't want to answer. I don't want to make stupid small talk – but this guy is powerful and, I'm guessing, influential. I might need him on my side.
"Carlisle hit me with his car," I answer, unable to put any real feeling to the words, even with the reminder of the ache in my shoulder.
"Really?" Alec snorts, amused.
I fume at the idea that he finds the moment that my world crumbled around me fit to be laughed at.
"Yes, really," I snap. "It fucking hurt, too, I'll have you know."
Alec's smile is slightly broader than before. "And, what, Carlisle was so pissed that you mussed his fancy paint-job that he tossed you into the back seat and took off?" He's shaking his head. "That doesn't sound very much like him."
"Fuck you," I seethe, momentarily forgetting my plan to have Alec on my side. My heels stab into the stone floor, echoing around me to the beat of the pulse in my head.
Thankfully, he's too entertained by the tale of my kidnapping to take offense. "No, truly, I'm curious," he says, a smile in his voice. "Please, humour me."
I clench and unclench my fists, silently furious. "It was my fault," I spit. "I was an idiot, again, and this time nobody was able to save me."
I hate remembering it. I've had plenty of nightmare-inducing nights, but this one ranks. Fuck me, I was so stupid. I wasn't terribly hurt – just dazed. But I didn't get up and run. Why didn't I? Why didn't I run? Oh, right. I'd been buzzing with the idea of a new luring possibility, of course. Guilt-trips are always easy takes. But then he'd begged me to let him take me to a hospital, and he'd touched my arm and I'd recognised the temperature and spat out the word vampire. We'd both stared at each other, wide-eyed. I inched away, scared because his eyes were black and I knew what that meant. But – no, I wasn't truly scared. I had four, and he was alone. But they didn't come. Why didn't they? He was too fast for me. I was buckled into the car before I got ten feet from him. The scream stayed stuck, useless in my throat. It's always been the same – I'm never able to scream when I'm really afraid. I don't remember if I cried. I know I scrabbled at the door, clung to it the entire way, but he'd had it locked up tight. Never even needed to stop for gas. The drive was agonising, and endless. I found out later that he'd been out of town at some kind of medical conference. I spent hours locked in that car, scared out of my mind, with Carlisle continuously apologising and promising that he wouldn't hurt me. When we finally arrived at that big white house, Esme and Alice had been waiting outside – waiting for me. Every light in the house had been blaring bright.
To my surprise – and relief – Alec doesn't press the subject. We walk in silence for a while, then I take my turn to ask a question.
"Why did Aro keep me alive?"
Alec pauses. When I peer up at his lovely face, he seems hesitant.
"I'm not sure," he answers after a moment. I skewer him with my best go-fuck-yourself look, and he shakes his head. "Honestly, he didn't say. Perhaps my sister knows. He did consult her on it."
I remember. Jane and the other woman followed Aro outside for a casual chitchat about the fate of my neck.
"We did have a position to fill," Alec adds. "Perhaps he thought…well, two birds, I suppose."
"Thrilling," I mutter darkly.
"Indeed," Alec replies, blatantly ignoring my biting sarcasm.
We come to yet another large set of double doors. These ones are taller than the ones to the great hall, and look equally as impossible to budge. Lucky for me – because I'm so chock full of that these days – Alec reaches for them. Then, he hesitates.
He turns to me with a strange, frustratingly unreadable look on his face. "Behave," he tells me.
His tone is mocking. I decide to push my luck, thanking him with a one-fingered salute. He grins, amused again.
"It's your neck," he shrugs.
At this point, I really don't care.
Dull, heavy pain weighs my bones down as I trudge in behind my escort. The library is several storeys tall, every surface, both vertical and horizontal, covered with books – ancient volumes, slim paperbacks, old books, new books, handwritten books, printed books…maybe if I had any interest in reading, I'd be a little more awestruck. My only real thought towards the impressive display is that it looks pretty trippy.
Alec weaves through countless bookshelves until we reach the open centre of the room – a big circular area littered with chairs, benches, and one large round table right in the middle. At this table are Aro and Caius, waiting for us.
Oh, absolute fucking fuck.
Aro greets us both with a bright smile, showing his predator teeth. Caius glances up, nods at Alec, spears me with a withering stare, then returns his attention to whatever crap he's organising on the table.
"Good boy, Alec," Aro praises. Alec moves forward, and Aro reaches to clasp his hand. After a few moments, he nods, his smile bigger than before. "Off you go, then, dear," he says, waving Alec away.
"Master," he says, bending forward at the waist in a brief bow, like Heidi did. When he rises, he nods once in my direction, then vanishes, leaving me with two of my Masters. One of which, I'm fairly certain, would be quite happy to drop-kick me off the top of the building. How comforting.
"Now, Veronica," Aro begins, getting down to business. "The little matter of your education…"
Oh…oh no. No. This can't be. I eye Caius with wide, wild eyes, panicking. He continues shuffling papers with clenched hands, no happier about this than me. Oh, God. I can not – can NOT – spend who knows how many hours being screamed at for being stupid by this jackass. My soul will not take it. My brain will melt out my ears. I will absolutely, unquestionably, die.
"You are to meet with Caius here, every day at this time," Aro says. "For however long he sees necessary. Clear?"
I meet his enthusiastic eyes with a withering, downhearted stare. "Crystal."
"Excellent!" Aro enthuses, rising fluidly from his seat. "Well, I'll let you two be."
And then he's gone too, leaving me with the one guy in the whole place who definitely wants me six feet under. The room is deathly silent, save for the rhythmic shuffling of papers – which I now suspect is more of a method of anger management than an actual necessary task. After endless unnerving quiet, I clear my throat.
"So," I begin, my fingers trembling at my sides. "What are we gonna be-"
Caius's head snaps up, red eyes beaming with malice. His mouth opens, showing his teeth, and he cuts me off.
"We will not be doing anything," he hisses. "As long as you appear so…unkempt."
Unkempt? What? I scan my front in a quick panic, wondering what on earth about me is making him so mad. My shirt is tucked in, my shoes are unscuffed. What the ever loving fuck is he talking about?
"Your hair," he continues, fuming. "From now on, you are to tie it back. This is a professional place, Veronica. I will not have you showing us up just because you have never discovered the wonders of a comb."
I bristle, stung. My throat runs dry. I did comb my hair. I spent twenty whole minutes this morning wetting it, crushing it through, trying to tame it. I thought I'd succeeded, but apparently fucking not.
"And have you ever heard of an iron?" He snaps, gesturing to my front. I glance down again, frowning. He's not done. "There's a hole in your tights, for God's sake!"
I peer further south. True to his criticism, there's a ladder up the inside of one leg. My heel must have nicked them while I was curled up in my chair, nursing my headache.
"You humans are so expendable," he says, his tone dark and full of meaning. "If you do not return to me tomorrow looking like the professional I expect you to be, we will have to rethink your position here, Veronica."
His voice crackles on a low hiss. "You are dismissed," he snaps.
My eyes well with tears, but I blink them back furiously, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Turning on my heel, I stomp out of the library without another word, hating all of them so ferociously that by the time I make it back to the lobby, the sharp twisting in my stomach gets the better of me, and I have to dart into the bathroom to be sick.
vVv
It's dark when I arrive back at my apartment, hot and miserable. I step out of my elevator, beginning to strip immediately. Staring at nothing, I shed my clothes, trembling as I realize just how quiet it is. I shuffle into the bathroom, feeling so heavy I'd believe something was trying to drag me to Hell if I wasn't convinced I'm already there.
I glance into the mirror. I look awful. My face is deathly pale, with a sickly sheen to it. My eyes are hollow and sunken, ringed with circles so dark that I look like I have two black eyes. Shivering, I turn and switch on the shower, turning it as cold as it gets. The water beats down, heavy and ice-cold. I step inside and immediately sink to the floor, curling up under the flow. The temperature is comforting – too comforting. A rough sob sends my body lurching, and then my day finally gets the better of me. Loud, ugly cries echo through the bathroom as I hunch in the shower, pretending that I'm home, in the embrace of familiar cold arms.
vVv
Something doesn't feel right, and it's not just because I'm rolling drunk. The three men I snagged are following me down the deserted street under the pretence of a party, walking in a close, tight formation. My fingers start to quiver. There's a sour feeling in my gut. All my better instincts are telling me that there's a reason I only ever take one or two, and that reason is going to become very apparent unless I get them within screaming distance of the house in time.
The one that bought me that first drink walks close next to me, breathing warm, horrible, booze-stale breath right down my neck. I manage to stay in character, walking tall and confident – but, inside, my stomach is twisting.
"Where's this party, exactly?" One of the others slurs, stumbling just behind me. My mouth tastes of metal as I reply with a stiff smile.
"Not far." My voice is forcibly light. Easygoing. Diffusing. "Just down by the docks. About fifteen minutes."
"Hmm," the first one says, beginning to slow. Shit. Shit. "Seems an awfully long way to go for a party…"
Oh, fuck. My heart hammers. I try to keep the pace going, but they've all stopped walking. Alarm bells are starting to blare in my head. I lurch dizzily as I pause, turning back to face them. I am so fucking drunk. Trying my best not to let my panic show, I throw them my most sultry smirk, letting my eyelids hang low over my eyes.
"It'll be worth it…" I purr, glancing up at them through my eyelashes, letting them know exactly what I'm eluding to. I reach up to draw my fingers in an x-formation across the centre of my chest. They track my movements, bloodshot gazes intense. "Promise…"
I've regained their attention, anyway. The three of them smile identical, sloppy, perverse smiles. Heart still skipping, I turn back around, ready to lead the way.
"Fuck that," one of them growls.
I'm yanked backwards by my wrist. I overbalance in my heels, crashing against a warm body. A strong arm pins me against it and I freeze, horrified.
"I wanna party right here," my captor leers. His cold, clammy hand snakes under my top while I'm still frozen, fumbling fingers creeping upwards.
Instinct takes over. Uninhibited by the alcohol, I thrust my elbow backwards as hard as I can. I catch a jaw, sending the man that grabbed me stumbling backwards, releasing me.
I don't give them a chance to respond. Kicking my heels off, I sprint.
I'm fast, but I'm also drunk and not wearing shoes. It doesn't take long for the thunder of running footsteps to come closer and closer, reaching fingers grabbing at my hair-
I vault sideways, panicking. I dash down the first dark alley I see, hoping to at least hide until they get bored. My mouth tastes like metal and my heart is pounding, hurting. My feet sting and ache. Still, I don't break speed. I run and run until I practically crash into the alley wall. A dead end. My fingers scrabble at it as if I can move it by will alone. It stays resolutely existent, trapping me.
A dark chuckle sounds from behind me. Eyes wide, I turn, keeping my back pressed against the wall as the three drunk men prowl closer, breathing hard.
"You're a sly one," the one I elbowed sneers. "But you're fucked now."
I don't doubt that he means exactly what he says.
I try to scream. My mouth pops open and hangs there, but no sound comes out. It's as if my throat is soldered shut. I can barely breathe, let alone yell. The terror is too overwhelming.
"Fuck you," I choke, bracing myself against the wall. One of them moves closer, grinning with yellow teeth.
"I will," he murmurs.
His fingers ghost against my chin, and then he's gone.
He soars backwards, neck snared in a strong white hand. He's hauled down, wrenched up, and there's a hollow crunching sound as his neck snaps.
I begin to breathe again.
Jesse stands over the body, tall and blonde and glaring, a low snarl rolling through his teeth.
"What the fu-"
Pete materializes in front of me, shielding me from the sight of the mass slaughter. Not one of them gets a scream out before they're all dead. They fall silently, slumped over on the ground. Jesse scoffs angrily, nudging them over so he can examine their faces.
"Vermin," he spits.
Pete pulls me to him while I shudder, trembling with adrenaline. "What happened?" He murmurs to me, touching my hair.
Jesse tosses one of the bodies over his shoulder like a human hefting a gym bag, his mouth curled into a sharp sneer.
"What do you mean, 'what happened'?" He snaps, gesturing furiously at me, gulping and panting in Pete's protective grasp. "Look at her! Smell it on her! She's completely wasted!"
I return Jesse's disdain with as cold a stare as I can manage before turning a bleary-eyed glance up at Pete, still cradling me close. He's frowning, but not at either of us. After a few beats of silence, save for a siren wailing in the distance, Jesse gives a growling kind of sigh before seizing hold of a second body and tucking it under his arm.
"She'll be the death of all of us," Jesse says. There's no force, no venom in his voice this time; he's made the same point a thousand times. Giving me one last judgemental once-over, he shakes his head and melts into the shadows.
Pete sighs. In the same second that the rough fabric of his denim jacket sinks over my shoulders, he scoops up the last body and deposits it behind the dumpster, out of sight.
"Let's go sober you up, shall we?"
I nod, shuddering. Pete sweeps me gently off the ground, holding me to his chest as he walks out of the alley.
"I'm sorry," I burble miserably, nuzzling into his front like a child. He bounces me once in his arms, trying to lift my spirits.
"It wasn't your fault," he sooths.
After all these years, this is still something I have trouble comprehending. "Will Anton be angry?"
Pete doesn't hesitate, but I feel his arms stiffen. "Not with you," he replies. "But let's say that those men are lucky that Jesse and I are the ones that happened along."
"I don't think there's anyone in history who's been lucky to meet Jesse."
Pete laughs, bouncing me again. "Come on, let's get some food in you."
But I'm asleep by the time we reach the town again, curled into his chest, safe and protected.