22. SOMEDAY THIS WILL ALL MAKE SENSE.

Carine started up the stairs but stopped halfway on them, climbing back down. She had a fist to her lip and was gnawing nervously away at it.

"Carine?" I asked quietly.

"Yes, honey?"

"What is it about Immortal Children? Why did Ivan say that earlier? Why did you tell Edythe it was too early to tell?" I can already guess why they'd be so dangerous but I wanted to hear it first-hand, because I still didn't know whose side I should be taking. Carine let out a sigh and took me to another room, far away from her cousins.

"I mentioned earlier that there was a time many years ago when our kind had created vampires out of humans barely older than infants."

I nodded my head. "I remember."

"They were very beautiful children. To be near them was to love them. Creators and their families grew very strongly attached to them." Carine started. "But these children; they could not be taught; frozen at the age which they were turned. One single tantrum could decimate an entire village or if they were hungry, they would feed on anyone or anything they came across. Of course, the Volturi had gotten involved. Many human lives were lost; as were many vampire ones. Entire covens were wiped out - they fought tooth and nail to protect these children. Many of these children and their creators were eliminated and a temporary law was instated; one which forbid the creation of Immortal Children.

"After these difficult times, the Volturi secretly researched and experimented on these children for many, many years, hopeful they could be taught. During my time with them, I had met two myself and understood firsthand how easy it was to love them – Janey and Mason, were their names. Orphaned siblings; mere street children whom would not be missed. Neither was above age four or five. Aro, long before he had been dismissed and long before I had come to study with the Volturi, created them for the sole purpose of these experiments." Carine took a sharp breath. "What they found was disheartening, though. Ultimately, it was unanimously agreed upon that Immortal Children posed far too great a threat to our kind, and those children-" Carine's voice broke. "Were subsequently destroyed." Her eyes almost looked wet, like she was about to cry. "Soon enough, the practice was wholly outlawed and strictly forbidden. The Volturi rode at dawn the very next morning, going to every corner of the world in order to hunt out and eliminate every last one of these children and their creators." She finished with a quiet, shaking breath.

"You must understand, Jules- Sasha created such a child and she was put to death for it. Kirill, Dimitri and Ivan have never forgotten this."

I was just as lost as I was before. I mean, I get it – these children were no ordinary children; they were dangerous. Highly dangerous, in fact. But I just couldn't reconcile the monstrous nature of these children with one created in part by Beau – it was simply impossible. But I was forgetting something crucial here, too – that baby wasn't going to be any ordinary human child, either. I felt the familiar tightening in my chest again.

I wondered what Beau thought.

Just then, Kirill came up to us. I gulped. He must have heard Carine.

"It's true." His voice was a solemn sound as it left his lips and it shook with pain, anger, and sadness all at once. "Ever since that day, there has been the shadow of revenge which had cast itself over our hearts, and we – that is, Ivan, Dimitri and I – had almost acted upon it many years ago." He paused for a second, then continued again.

"When we thought to look further into the Volturi's "corruption" as we call it, we soon realized there was another Plague of sorts going on at the exact same time which the Volturi didn't – or seemed not to – know of. Many covens began disappearing without a trace; covens with no involvement whatsoever in the affair of creating Immortal Children. We thought to use this knowledge against the Volturi; to confront them with these unspoken truths and demand that they give us answers; to hold them accountable. But the fear of retribution was so very high and evidence was extremely difficult to come by without first incriminating ourselves– all we really had to go on was word of mouth from our allies and the strange, unsettling intuition that something was not quite right. But ultimately, that thirst for revenge, while it remains unquenched even today, could not hold us any longer and we sought to make peace; to heal. As impossible as that is. And so, we had all but left the thought behind."

I shouldn't have been so interested in the histories of the bloodsuckers, but there was something about what Kirill was saying that stuck with me – that everyone had their secrets. Maybe it'll come in handy one day. I had that familiar feeling again – how I can change things; how I can watch over my friend. How this can end differently for everyone.

Someday this will all make sense. I had to believe that. And it will.

…

We stayed the night at their place and got ready to leave first thing in the morning. I had a room right next to Beau and Edythe, they were very quiet. I wondered what was going through their minds. When the sun came up again, I was already packed and ready to go, not that I had much to put away anyways. Everybody was outside already and I went to join them.

"…My only hope for you all is that if push ever comes to shove, you may be able to fight for and secure justice for your family - the way we were unable to do - should the need ever arise, but I am afraid we must bow out. We do not wish ill upon you and yours and we will keep your secret – we promise you this - but that is as far as we will go on the matter." Kirill motioned to himself and his coven mates. "All I ask is that you be very careful. History mustn't repeat itself. Don't bring that sort of ruin upon your family." He was looking especially at Edythe now when he said that and although his voice was soft, his eyes were very sharp. I saw her swallow, hard. She looked away but I could still tell even from here that her lips were trembling a little bit - his words most definitely bothered her.

"We understand. Thank you all for everything." Carine shook his hand again and everyone else followed suit. Afterwards, we all clambered into the large van and began to drive away, the log cabin getting smaller and smaller behind us as we raced through the white of the snow.

"Well, that was underwhelming." Archie sighed. He was leaning forward a little bit, shoulders keened. His hands were clasped between his knees and he shook his head. "I could have sworn they knew something about this, I could've sworn I saw it. These blind spots are killing me, man." I immediately thought about what Kirill said earlier, about the disappearances of those covens around the same time the whole Immortal Children fiasco was going on. Carine wasn't saying anything about it though, so I figured it wasn't my place to, either.

"They don't want to help." Edythe muttered in a distant voice. She was leaning back in her chair and looking out the window, resting her hands on her stomach. I thought I heard her whispering then, but I couldn't make out the words, they were too soft for even the bloodsuckers to hear, I'm sure. Besides, I don't think she was talking to any of us anymore anyways.

"Well, what do you expect? Face it, you're a freak of nature, sis." Eleanor began with a bright laugh, cheery as ever. "And so what? We don't need anyone else. If anybody wants to mess with us, I say bring it on – I was born ready!" She pounded a fist into her palm, her eyes glittering.

"El." Carine said in a cautionary tone, casting a glance at her daughter from the rearview mirror.

"What?" She shrugged innocently.

"Thanks, El." Edythe whispered. She gave her sister's knee a little squeeze and it almost made me smile.

…

We got back to the Cullens' place before dinnertime, but the sun was already beginning to set on us. Archie was kind of in a funk is how I'd describe it, just drifting into and out of all the rooms in the house like a ghost. Sometimes he'd press a finger to his temple and screw up his eyes, letting out a frustrated groan afterwards. I just watched him – I mean, it was hard not to, because he was literally everywhere – and gnawed at my lip.

"Arch?" It was Edythe. Her eyes were wide, kind of scared. Beau wasn't with her and I thought to go look for him but then I heard the siblings talking again, so I stopped to listen.

"You see what I mean, don't you?" Edythe nodded at his question.

"What is it?" I started, hurrying to them. "Is it about Beau?"

Archie shook his head. "Not just now. It's Edythe, actually. There's just black scraped over her eyes. I can't see her future anymore, it just makes my head hurt. Not to mention it just looks very unsettling." He answered. Just then, he put a finger to his temple and winced in concentration. Edythe touched his shoulder.

He walked to another corner of the room and held out his hands, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Archie?" Edythe asked, her voice rising in concern. She touched at her stomach again almost protectively. "What's going on?"

"Ivan. I'm monitoring his future actions."

"What for?" I asked, stepping closer to him.

"He thinks this is wrong. He'll be discussing it at length the next couple of days with the family, but I don't think anyone will do anything drastic, though. At least, I haven't seen it yet." He added in a cautionary tone. "Kirill's sort of on our side, I guess. He'll try to talk Ivan into letting it go."

I sighed with relief.

Archie's face eased up a little then.

"Good news?" Edythe asked. Archie nodded. "I'm seeing something else – another possibility, a new one. That they never find out, and no one gets hurt."

"By "they" do you mean the Volturi?" I asked. Archie nodded again. Edythe showed a small, hopeful smile, clasping her hands together and bringing them to her lips.

"And the baby?" She excitedly began. Archie inhaled a sharp breath through his teeth.

"I still can't see your future nor the baby's, Edy. Not individually, at least. I'm looking at you guys from behind, and you're right next to Beau in this one. He's holding something, but I can't see what it is." Archie continued, painting the image for us. "I could try going into it from Beau's point of view, but you know it's a little harder for me to do that, so just give me a sec…" After about another minute, Archie gasped then smiled, chuckling. "Wow, that's one cute kid." Hearing that, Edythe let out a bright, happy laugh. "Hey, there you are again." Archie tilted his head in Edythe's direction. "I can't pinpoint the exact date or time right now, though. Either way though, that's probably the best outcome I've seen so far."

But then he frowned and shuddered. Edythe's smile fell away and the alarm bells went off in my head again.

"On the other hand, I get things like this too-" he scribbled more gibberish on a paper pad and Edythe took it from him. Her gaze moved from him then to the paper, trying to see what he was seeing and then she threw the pad hard into the floor like it were a vial of poison.

"I don't understand. Why?" She asked in a trembling voice.

"What the hell is it?" I cried out, taking up the paper pad. My eyes skimmed over the mess of lines and symbols which covered the page. In the bottom right margin, there was the word "Death" in big letters, circled. My breath hitched in my throat. "Beau?" I asked in a shaking voice. Archie nodded solemnly. "Him first. Then the rest of us. Somehow, they'll find out and for some reason, they'll automatically conclude that the child poses a threat. I can't see exactly why though, yet." His voice was barely above a whisper. "We'll fight them. It won't end well." He shook his head again.

"Well? How can we make sure that doesn't happen, then?" I cried out.

"We can't - not really, at least. But you also have to keep in mind that this is just one of many, many possible outcomes, Julie. It's like… how should I put it? For example, the odds of that first vision I had – the one where nobody gets hurt – coming true is just as high as the odds of that second vision coming true. Life and Death, on totally opposite ends of the spectrum. The choices everyone makes can and will change things - one can only hope for the better, though. It all just depends."

Huh. I didn't like those odds.

I took a step back, putting the pad of paper down on the glass table in the living room. I felt light-headed, like the floor wasn't solid beneath me. That guttural feeling of hopelessness was clawing away at my chest again – I hated it when that happened.

"Tell Beau I'm going out for a ride." I threw my hands up and hurried to the front door. I just needed to get out of there. Putting on my helmet, I moved the kickstand and started up my motorcycle, the hum of the engine revving up loud in my ears. I pulled away from that giant white prison and sped off, chasing the last bits of the sun.

I was going home.

…

When I got back to my place, I parked my bike in the small tin shed on the outer-most edges of the front yard on our property line. I hung my helmet on the handlebar and pushed my bangs out of my eyes, breaking into a medium jog towards my front door. Unlocking it, I stepped inside and closed it tight behind me. "Mom?" I called out.

"In here." She was in the living room, making a basket from cedar bark. She was weaving the last of the canes in, her strong hands moving with a swift, fluid elegance I could only ever wish to attain.

"How was the trip?" She asked. I shrugged, sliding into a chair. I shifted my jaw trying to think of what to say, but my voice fell off into a large, deep sigh instead.

"That bad?" Mom gently asked, touching my knee.

I took another breath. "Well, it certainly was… eye-opening. In a lot of ways." I said evasively, clasping my hands together in my lap.

"I see." Mom said, stroking her chin.

"Yeah." I sighed again, looping a lock of hair behind my ear and turning my head a little to look at her. "Mom? How do you know if you're doing the right thing or not when there are absolutely zero guarantees in life?"

The question caught her by surprise I could tell, but it only took her one second to answer me. She rested a hand on my cheek. "You have the heart of a chief. You use it." She pressed the tip of her finger lightly into my chest.

I guess I just have to trust myself then, huh?

"Thanks, Mom." I showed her a smile and squeezed her hand before getting up to make dinner for us both.