WARRIOR

"The wise warrior avoids the battle."

—Sun Tzu, The Art of War

—

SEPTEMBER 1ST 2039

11:13PM CST

MAZAPIL, ZACATECAS

The sound of fabric tearing was the only noise in the quiet room. The human that lay prone on the ground wasn't gasping or crying or choking on its own blood any longer, and a comfortable silence had taken hold. Instead of writhing and gurgling, the human stared blankly from its spot on the floor, entirely still in death.

That was a small goddamn mercy.

The wet gasping noises it had made were almost too tempting in the moment. Her self-control had improved over the years, but she'd never quite perfected it. Not to mention it was a waste of a full, healthy human.

She took a moment and studied the human's body, cooling and undrained, but… desperate times.

No, wrong.

These times were not desperate. She was not desperate.

Clothes hit the ground as she flipped through the closet. She paused on a dress and rolled her eyes at the thin, useless straps. These contemporary women and their taste in clothes. Ugh. She hated it.

The dress made a pop-pop sound when she ripped it from its hanger and tossed it to the ground. She paused on the only other dress in the closet before clicking her tongue and releasing it. It seemed this human simply loved to show its entire ass and navel when dressing itself.

How annoying. Well, it wouldn't be the first or the hundredth time she'd been forced to settle for blue jeans. Nowadays it was damn near impossible to find proper clothes that fit her tastes. Unfortunately her best and most-loved gowns were gathering dust up in Monterrey.

Maria plucked a pair of pants from a shelf and grabbed a bright red top. One that didn't show off half of her torso or her entire fucking back. She leaned back on her heels and turned toward the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. The other human she'd killed was lying in the tub, completely devoid of all blood. That had been her only planned meal for the night.

Maria had been half-finished draining the man when the front door to the apartment unlocked. She hadn't stopped or tried to hide and took her time finishing her meal. By the time she'd walked out of the bathroom the female human had made it two steps into the bedroom.

The human hadn't had time to scream and didn't know what had hit her when Maria tore the throat open with a flick of her wrist and stepped back, letting nature take its course. Maria would let the human authorities think that the human male had killed this woman. It was a decent enough cover. The man was dead anyway. Besides, it wasn't as if she had to worry too much about being overly careful now. These weren't her lands.

She tapped her foot irritably as she stared at the dead human man. If she chose to shower she would have to move it first, and she really didn't feel like handling it more than she already had to. Paige had been in charge of making sure the older newborns took care of disposal. Maria hated doing it.

But Paige was dead. And Maria was on her own for the time being.

She still had a few hours to burn until she had to meet Ismael and travel back north. Ismael had assured her that when they met tonight his newborns would be as dead as hers, but she didn't buy it. It would've been an impressively elaborate ruse if he were leading her on a wild chase, but for all that she hated him, she had to admit he was an honorable enemy.

Maria opted out of showering but changed her clothes then and there. The woman's pants didn't fit perfectly but they would work for now. As she was looping a belt through, a sound made her pause. Someone else was turning down the hallway, calling a name.

There was no reply and Maria let out a quick huff. If she had to kill another human tonight she was going to be very irritable.

Thankfully the voice passed the door to the apartment and continued moving. Maria finished securing the belt and yanked a couple of hair elastics from the dead woman's bloody wrist.

She'd last seen Ismael two weeks ago.

He had been standing on their borderlands, alone, waiting for something. It hadn't been until she'd forced Karan to stay back with the newborns while she and Paige approached that she realized he had been waiting for her.

"Last I heard they were traveling west."

"Why should I believe you?" She'd watched him with narrowed eyes and Paige had hissed toward him, always eager to follow Maria's lead. And if Maria wasn't happy there was a chance Paige would be allowed to do her favorite thing and rip this man limb from limb.

Ismael had never been a threat to her. His armies had never been large enough to take land and they resided solely in and around the outskirts of Mazapil, keeping to themselves.

Maria had almost been impressed when he made it through the turn of the century without being killed. She'd contemplated killing him and his army to take his lands once or twice—after all, if she'd ever wanted to expand south he would've been her next target—but decided against it when she didn't care enough to expand in that direction.

She kept him alive as a reserve. His name tacked on the top of the 'Kill in Case of Emergency' list she had posted up in her mind. Right above Paige and then Karan and then the rest of her army.

Unfortunately for him, every other name on that list had been crossed out.

Maria hadn't believed him when he'd assured her that he was alone. It wasn't until he'd said the word Volturi that she'd been forced to take him seriously.

She grabbed two bedsheets from a closet and made her way toward the man in the tub. It wasn't difficult to curl his body up and wrap him in the fabric. When she lifted his weight the cheap material popped in a few places as it stretched, but it at least held him put.

It only took her a few minutes to run to the edge of the city and bury the body at the base of the mountain, deep beneath two enormous yucca palms. She stared toward the western horizon and bit back a string of expletives.

She hated having allies because she hated owing people. She did not like Ismael and she did not trust Ismael. He trusted her, which was stupid (as she told him) and he always fed her information, which was how she knew he had a death wish (he'd called her paranoid when she'd told him this).

Maria had survived this long because she was smarter than the rest of these dusty halfwits that pretended they were the epitome of power and control. They all knew not to underestimate her, of course. Monterrey and all the land surrounding it had been hers for over one hundred and seventy years. She knew that as long as these buffoons didn't forget about her power then it would remain hers for decades to come.

By calling her paranoid he ignored every success she'd ever earned. Every square mile she'd fought for. Every fucking year she'd dragged behind her still.

Paranoid, he'd said. No. Wrong.

Really, she should've killed him just for calling her that. But she was hoping she'd be able to find him easily enough tonight. If he really was unarmed (which she doubted) and if he was really planning on waiting for her to have a civil discussion (which was laughable) then it meant things were dire. It was a dangerous gamble to travel into Mazapil alone but hopefully it would pay off.

Maria turned back toward the city and braced herself for a conversation she did not want to entertain.

True to his word, he let her come to him. He was sitting upon a rooftop, close to the northern point of the city and facing the half-moon above the horizon. At the sound of her approach he smiled at her (like a fucking moron) and beckoned her over before turning back toward the moon.

Maria did not join him on the rooftop. Instead she settled herself on a neighboring one, and waited.

"Tomas' lands are empty," he spoke swiftly, which she appreciated. She didn't like having her time wasted. "Yves has been quiet. Everyone around this territory has gone into hiding it seems."

"Or," she supplied cheerfully, almost excited at the prospect, "they're dead!"

"Tomas, maybe. But I'm not convinced that even the Volturi could kill that French nightmare."

"Then you're an idiot."

Ismael didn't rise to the bait. "I don't know what they're looking for." He looked toward her. The roof he sat on was about a meter taller than the one she was on. She didn't like him having the high ground and took a few seconds to study their surroundings before she turned back toward him to glare.

"It's best if we remain unarmed for now. If a tidying of the country—"

Maria's anger ignited. "I don't care enough to listen to you speculate," she snapped. She was furious that an enemy would insist that she remain unarmed.

Ismael was equally incensed. "Maria!"

She hissed. He'd never spoken her name before tonight and she despised the way it sounded coming from his mouth.

"They will snuff you out like that," he snapped his fingers together and finally returned her glare. "Oscar has not heard any whispers yet but their guard passed up through Mexico City six days ago. It's best to wait and see if they make contact with—"

"Do not act like you know anything about a time that existed far before your parents were born." Mexico City was not her worry. Ismael knew Oscar Parra. Not only that, but they had spoken recently and Ismael was still alive and dumb enough to tell her. Oscar was the only warlord north of Guadalajara who had been at it for as long as Maria. "You are lying to me."

Ismael stood and jumped down from the roof. Maria leaned over the edge of the building and watched, almost embarrassed for him, as he sat himself down in the dark, dirty road. He was unguarded and unarmed before her. It was stupid in every conceivable way.

"'If I were as wise as honest,'" he had the nerve to smile at her as he quoted, "'then my purpose would prove well.'"

He placed his hands on his thighs and looked up at her quietly. It was like he wanted her to kill him.

Maria adjusted the sleeve on her new shirt and pulled the fabric up another inch to reveal more of her forearms. She really, really wanted to kill him. Instead, she turned north, away from the grave of her meal, and focused on the irritation bubbling steadily inside of her chest. Her hands were clenched into fists and her feet felt electric. It was a need to run more than a want.

"Stay," he told her as she took the first step away from him. The naked desperation in his voice made her itch. "Until we receive news. Stay, please."

Whatever was happening—if the Volturi were there to damn them all to dust—she needed to prepare. As long as she had a plan, and as long as she remained a few steps ahead, then she'd make it out alive. Even if no one else did.

She could not believe Ismael requested she stay. She wanted to yell at him. How dare he ask her to stop and wait as if that had ever done her any goddamn good in her entire existence.

Maria headed back toward Monterrey, instead. She wanted to know what had happened. She needed answers the wind couldn't provide. She wouldn't learn anything by sitting around.

Patience wasn't productive.

◆ Here she is! My best girl!

◆ Thanks everyone for sharing your thoughts, excitement, etc. for this fic via reviews, likes, and follows. It doubles my own excitement for this story to see people on board with the concept, so thanks a million.

◆ As far as this fic goes, the chapter length will always vary depending on the POV character, but they do generally grow in length as the story continues. (For example: chapter 16 is only about 600 words, vs 2800 for 17.) Not that it matters. Y'all are still getting (minimum) a chapter a week.

◆ Anyways, enjoy the next few chapters, feel free to drop a review or come chat on tumblr (at flowerslut, of course) and if you have the spare time, be sure to check out Three Books One Plot, volturialice and I's Twilight podcast where we have a hilarious time enjoying, analyzing, and laughing about Twilight in the modern era, but with a delightfully unique twist. And if you're looking for more to read while you wait for updates of this, join our book club today (also on tumblr, BellasBookClub)! See you guys next week.