Chapter 12:

The girl you broke

19th February 2012

The flight to Prague was nearly empty of humans, allowing the Cullens to speak more freely. Dropping her phone in her lap, Alice sighed. Her voice was almost lost in the plane's engines. "The Queen knows. I've done all we can do for now."

Jasper squeezed her hand. "Will she heed your advice?"

"Lady Anna's decision will rest on what they find in Prague."

Beth hadn't spoken about her sister-friend in great detail beyond being introverted, a devoted friend, and careful with her powers.

Much of Alice's concentration remained fixated on what came after Demetri entered an underground bunker. Without Beth's glamour, he moved alone and quite open to whatever came next. Stefan and Vladimir had not been idle since their close call with the Volturi.

At once, Jasper sent Alice a wave of calm; it knocked her fear out at the knees.

"When we take Red out of the fight..." Jasper asked, "what will we find?"

Carlisle got out his phone. "If she is in the right hands, Beth's spine should start healing."

"To wander so blindly into such a place…" Across the aisle, Edward shook his head.

"It's not Beth's fault," Bella said, ever the advocate for the unfortunate girl. "The Volturi did nothing to prevent this or prepare her for it. She's just a…tool in this convoluted game."

Behind them, Emmett muttered, "What does that make us?"

"I don't like keeping Renesmee in the dark," Bella added, voicing everyone's thoughts. Sitting across the plane aisle with Edward, she sighed. "Beth has stopped messaging her, and now we're going there. Renesmee knows something's up."

"I still think we should've told her," Emmett agreed. "We're all heading into a shitshow, whatever we find."

"Alice." Illuminated by his phone screen, Carlisle's face edged dangerously towards dread. "The media is reporting terrorist attacks in Old Town Square already. Twenty-two people are dead."

He had the courtesy to omit what they were all thinking. And counting.

"Now I can see Beth; her future looks much improved," Alice said brightly, and Jasper scoffed.

"Unlike the cowards who stole her glamour?"

Alice nodded.

It had been the coven's baby in the end, but Bohemia had been Marek's brainchild to start: a safe haven for immortal clientele, modelled on the speak-easies Iona had performed in during the 1920s. While Iona could talk to anyone, Marek liked his guests with tales that sparkled. The moguls, the militia, the models, not the amateurs, artists, or anarchists. They could go to Berlin for that sort of depraved nonsense.

Oh, Iona had loved Marek (in a fashion) for nearly eighty years. She was a woman of her time, aware of the natural shortcomings experienced by her gender, and as a lover – and consequential husband – Marek had been considerate and gentle.

(You wouldn't know it now as he scrabbled, groaning, on the hotel carpet like a kicked dog).

Although Marek struggled to stay upright against the winds of change, he could schmooze with the likes of Babe Ruth and Capone without breaking a sweat. Mercurial Al had been partial to Iona's version of I Wanna Be Loved By You.

(It still made Iona smile how Radko and Dana couldn't agree on whether she or Betty Boop influenced Marilyn with that one).

They met Dana and Christabel in Berlin, two near-opposing figures on different sides of the Wall. While Christabel threw Molotov cocktails against the graffitied concrete, Dana had set up a homeless shelter. Iona once mistakenly asked Christabel about her whereabouts when the Second World War ended. The young Russian still claimed she assassinated Herr Hitler by sneaking into his underground bunker, and no blatant evidence to the contrary could convince her.

Radko joined their coven well after the Wall fell. The story of him acquiring immortality (as he would call it, or words to that effect) changed every time. He stumbled upon a blood-filled orgy in Amsterdam. Radko had developed an obsession with Jack the Ripper as a boy, had solved the mystery of his identity, and the vampire behind it all had tracked him down. Last week, Iona heard him tell a giggling guest he had goaded a vampire into biting him to impress a Duchess. He never specified whom, of course; that would be telling…only that she hated the sight of blood.

Iona would miss Radko's ridiculous stories.

"What has happened?" she asked sharply. Marek had begun to crawl towards her. "Hazel. You promised me you wouldn't harm him."

"And Ididn't," Hazel said, grinning. She bent at the waist in a pantomime of superiority, her hair dangling. "Someone took a glamour without permission again."

Iona wondered how Hazel knew about that. Marek was struggling upright, his body slumped with agony. "A wild creature. Never in all my years…"

Iona's insides dropped. It was terrible enough that vampires were running loose under her watch. She had been happy, playing by the rules, keeping her guests safe and secret.

(Christabel, not so much. It was the first time she and Hazel had agreed on something).

(In hindsight, Julia's death may have clouded Hazel's judgement).

Iona exhaled. "Hazel. What kind of wild creature?"

"Oh, a disturbed soul with unresolved trauma." Hazel sniffed and jerked her head behind her.

"You should have killed her," Marek wheezed.

"Shut it," Hazel said before whirling around to hiss at the door. "Yes, yes, I'm asking Iona! Yes, I am a bloody hypocrite. I know, alright? I know I know, I know…"

And Iona watched, numb with horror, as Hazel began to gasp for air. The world seemed to blur, become to a formless backdrop, as Iona took Hazel in her arms. They had done this many times before, warm and wild with love, but it was the first time Iona had ever seen Hazel cry.

"What can I do, Hazel?" Iona stroked the shorter, fluffy side of Hazel's head – she had always preferred it to the wigs and other artifices. As she kissed a sharp cheekbone, Iona did not hear the new pitch in Marek's pained complaints.

"I – I need –" Hazel's temple bulged as she clenched her jaw. She snivelled. "Oh. Where's Radko? He should hear this, too."

"Here I am," Radko's cautious voice answered. With Hazel still in her arms, Iona saw how his face had changed. His skin pulled tighter over his skull; his hair was plainly asymmetrical on one side. He looked taller now, his frame a lithely lethal spire.

Radko cleared his throat. "What must I hear?"

"A guest requires your services," Hazel spoke around a torrent of emotion. "N-Nothing sexual."

Radko sighed. His tone hardened. "I guess, the girl you broke."

The wild creature. "Ye-ess," Iona's lover ground out. "Trust my brother's ability when I say – she needs the distraction."

"And she has a name," Radko snapped. "You are too afraid to speak it. After what you did to her body?"

Hazel's head swivelled slowly on her neck. "Beth. Beth. Her name is Beth. She needs you." Trembling, Hazel grasped Iona's face in her hands. "And I need you to forgive me because Iona…swee'eart…"

"Yes, Hazel?"

Hazel kissed her full on the mouth, breathing against her lips. "God, let me keep some shred of good before our end comes."

The silence screamed.

(Except for Marek, who continued to whine).

"So, it is happening." Iona exhaled. "Ah…" She closed her eyes and touched their foreheads together. Please, let our deaths be quick.

If Iona had been paying attention, she would have seen Radko grip Marek's arm and try and pull him away. Though still somewhat incapacitated, the man snarled, pushing Radko off him. "This is despicable!"

"Go back to your Masters, Marek," Radko muttered. "Your work is done here."

Marek growled hoarsely. "What about my wife? Do you think I am going to leave her to die? This place has fallen to ruin without me."

Radko laughed. "That's all you care for. We will die, Marek. Wherever we are. Even now, the tracker will be searching for us, so make your peace."

"I will not." Marek shuddered from head to foot. "We will not die. We will overcome tyranny!"

"I fucking love you," Hazel cried, tightening her arms around Iona. "I need you to know that. I – I regret everything but you."

Iona whimpered. "Hazel…"

"Stop this," Marek whined.

Crunching footsteps alerted them to Dana's arrival. Her hair remained immaculate, but her expression was furious. "What are you doing here? Iona, Radko, a guest needs you outside."

Iona frowned. "But –"

"Now."

No one dared to argue with that tone. It echoed of a stoic nurse striving to keep her bloodied, broken patients alive away from the battlefield.

To be continued...