squad.
In a vague way, I was aware of Edward holding the car door for me, of Alice chattering from the
backseat, of the rain hammering against the windshield. Edward seemed to realize I was only there in body; he
didn’t try to pull me out of my abstraction. Or maybe he did, and I was past noticing.
We ended up at my house, where Edward led me to the sofa and pulled me down next to him. I stared
out the window, into the liquid gray haze, and tried to find where my resolve had gone. Why was I panicking
now? I’d known the deadline was coming. Why should it frighten me that it was here?
I don’t know how long he let me stare out the window in silence. But the rain was disappearing into
darkness when it was finally too much for him.
He put his cold hands on either side of my face and fixed his golden eyes on mine.
“Would you please tell me what you are thinking? Before I go mad?”
What could I say to him? That I was a coward? I searched for words.
“Your lips are white. Talk, Bella.”
I exhaled in a big gust. How long had I been holding my breath?
“The date took me off guard,” I whispered. “That’s all.”
He waited, his face full of worry and skepticism.
I tried to explain. “I’m not sure what to do . . . what to tell Charlie . . . what to say . . . how to . . .” My
voice trailed off.
“This isn’t about the party?”
I frowned. “No. But thanks for reminding me.”
The rain was louder as he read my face.
“You’re not ready,” he whispered.
“I am,” I lied immediately, a reflex reaction. I could tell he saw through it, so I took a deep breath, and
told the truth. “I have to be.”
“You don’t have to be anything.”
I could feel the panic surfacing in my eyes as I mouthed the reasons. “Victoria, Jane, Caius, whoever was
in my room . . . !”
“All the more reason to wait.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Edward!”
He pressed his hands more tightly to my face and spoke with slow deliberation.
“Bella. Not one of us had a choice. You’ve seen what it’s done . . . to Rosalie especially. We’ve all
struggled, trying to reconcile ourselves with something we had no control over. I won’t let it be that way for
you. You will have a choice.”
“I’ve already made my choice.”
“You aren’t going through with this because a sword is hanging over your head. We will take care of the
problems, and I will take care of you,” he vowed. “When we’re through it, and there is nothing forcing your
hand, then you can decide to join me, if you still want to. But not because you’re afraid. You won’t be forced
into this.”
“Carlisle promised,” I mumbled, contrary out of habit. “After graduation.”
“Not until you’re ready,” he said in a sure voice. “And definitely not while you feel threatened.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have it in me to argue; I couldn’t seem to find my commitment at the moment.
“There.” He kissed my forehead. “Nothing to worry about.”
I laughed a shaky laugh. “Nothing but impending doom.”
“Trust me.”
“I do.”
He was still watching my face, waiting for me to relax.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
“Anything.”
I hesitated, biting my lip, and then asked a different question than the one I was worried about.
“What am I getting Alice for graduation?”
He snickered. “It looked like you were getting us both concert tickets —”
“That’s right!” I was so relieved, I almost smiled. “The concert in Tacoma. I saw an ad in the paper last
week, and I thought it would be something you’d like, since you said it was a good CD.”
“It’s a great idea. Thank you.”
“I hope it’s not sold out.”
“It’s the thought that counts. I ought to know.”
I sighed.
“There’s something else you meant to ask,” he said.
I frowned. “You’re good.”
“I have lots of practice reading your face. Ask me.”
I closed my eyes and leaned into him, hiding my face against his chest. “You don’t want me to be a
vampire.”
“No, I don’t,” he said softly, and then he waited for more. “That’s not a question,” he prompted after a
moment.
“Well . . . I was worrying about . . . why you feel that way.”
“Worrying?” He picked out the word with surprise.
“Would you tell me why? The whole truth, not sparing my feelings?”
He hesitated for a minute. “If I answer your question, will you then explain your question?”
I nodded, my face still hidden.
He took a deep breath before he answered. “You could do so much better, Bella. I know that you believe
I have a soul, but I’m not entirely convinced on that point, and to risk yours . . .” He shook his head slowly.
“For me to allow this — to let you become what I am just so that I’ll never have to lose you — is the most
selfish act I can imagine. I want it more than anything, for myself. But for you, I want so much more. Giving in
— it feels criminal. It’s the most selfish thing I’ll ever do, even if I live forever.
“If there were any way for me to become human for you — no matter what the price was, I would pay it.”
I sat very still, absorbing this.
Edward thought he was being selfish.
I felt the smile slowly spread across my face.
“So . . . it’s not that you’re afraid you won’t . . . like me as much when I’m different — when I’m not soft
and warm and I don’t smell the same? You really do want to keep me, no matter how I turn out?”
He exhaled sharply. “You were worried I wouldn’t like you?” he demanded. Then, before I could
answer, he was laughing. “Bella, for a fairly intuitive person, you can be so obtuse!”
I knew he would think it silly, but I was relieved. If he really wanted me, I could get through the rest . . .
somehow. Selfish suddenly seemed like a beautiful word.
“I don’t think you realize how much easier it will be for me, Bella,” he said, the echo of his humor still there
in his voice, “when I don’t have to concentrate all the time on not killing you. Certainly, there are things I’ll
miss. This for one . . .”
He stared into my eyes as he stroked my cheek, and I felt the blood rush up to color my skin. He laughed
gently.
“And the sound of your heart,” he continued, more serious but still smiling a little. “It’s the most significant
sound in my world. I’m so attuned to it now, I swear I could pick it out from miles away. But neither of these
things matter. This,” he said, taking my face in his hands. “You. That’s what I’m keeping. You’ll always be my
Bella, you’ll just be a little more durable.”
I sighed and let my eyes close in contentment, resting there in his hands.
“Now will you answer a question for me? The whole truth, not sparing my feelings?” he asked.
“Of course,” I answered at once, my eyes opening wide with surprise. What would he want to know?
He spoke the words slowly. “You don’t want to be my wife.”
My heart stopped, and then broke into a sprint. A cold sweat dewed on the back of my neck and my
hands turned to ice.
He waited, watching and listening to my reaction.
“That’s not a question,” I finally whispered.
He looked down, his lashes casting long shadows across his cheekbones, and dropped his hands from my
face to pick up my frozen left hand. He played with my fingers while he spoke.
“I was worrying about why you felt that way.”
I tried to swallow. “That’s not a question, either,” I whispered.
“Please, Bella?”
“The truth?” I asked, only mouthing the words.
“Of course. I can take it, whatever it is.”
I took a deep breath. “You’re going to laugh at me.”
His eyes flashed up to mine, shocked. “Laugh? I cannot imagine that.”
“You’ll see,” I muttered, and then I sighed. My face went from white to scarlet in a sudden blaze of
chagrin. “Okay, fine! I’m sure this will sound like some big joke to you, but really! It’s just so . . . so . . . so
embarrassing!” I confessed, and I hid my face against his chest again.
There was a brief pause.
“I’m not following you.”
I tilted my head back and glared at him, embarrassment making me lash out, belligerent.
“I’m not that girl, Edward. The one who gets married right out of high school like some small-town hick
who got knocked up by her boyfriend! Do you know what people would think? Do you realize what century
this is? People don’t just get married at eighteen! Not smart people, not responsible, mature people! I wasn’t
going to be that girl! That’s not who I am. . . .” I trailed off, losing steam.
Edward’s face was impossible to read as he thought through my answer.
“That’s all?” he finally asked.
I blinked. “Isn’t that enough?”
“It’s not that you were . . . more eager for immortality itself than for just me?”
And then, though I’d predicted that he would laugh, I was suddenly the one having hysterics.
“Edward!” I gasped out between the paroxysms of giggles. “And here . . . I always . . . thought that . . .
you were . . . so much . . . smarter than me!”
He took me in his arms, and I could feel that he was laughing with me.
“Edward,” I said, managing to speak more clearly with a little effort, “there’s no point to forever without
you. I wouldn’t want one day without you.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” he said.
“Still . . . it doesn’t change anything.”
“It’s nice to understand, though. And I do understand your perspective, Bella, truly I do. But I’d like it
very much if you’d try to consider mine.”
I’d sobered up by then, so I nodded and struggled to keep the frown off my face.
His liquid gold eyes turned hypnotic as they held mine.
“You see, Bella, I was always that boy. In my world, I was already a man. I wasn’t looking for love —
no, I was far too eager to be a soldier for that; I thought of nothing but the idealized glory of the war that they
were selling prospective draftees then — but if I had found . . .” He paused, cocking his head to the side. “I
was going to say if I had found someone, but that won’t do. If I had found you, there isn’t a doubt in my mind
how I would have proceeded. I was that boy, who would have — as soon as I discovered that you were
what I was looking for — gotten down on one knee and endeavored to secure your hand. I would have
wanted you for eternity, even when the word didn’t have quite the same connotations.”
He smiled his crooked smile at me.
I stared at him with my eyes frozen wide.
“Breathe, Bella,” he reminded me, smiling.
I breathed.
“Can you see my side, Bella, even a little bit?”
And for one second, I could. I saw myself in a long skirt and a high-necked lace blouse with my hair piled
up on my head. I saw Edward looking dashing in a light suit with a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand, sitting
beside me on a porch swing.
I shook my head and swallowed. I was just having Anne of Green Gables flashbacks.
“The thing is, Edward,” I said in a shaky voice, avoiding the question, “in my mind, marriage and eternity
are not mutually exclusive or mutually inclusive concepts. And since we’re living in my world for the moment,
maybe we should go with the times, if you know what I mean.”
“But on the other hand,” he countered, “you will soon be leaving time behind you altogether. So why
should the transitory customs of one local culture affect the decision so much?”
I pursed my lips. “When in Rome?”
He laughed at me. “You don’t have to say yes or no today, Bella. It’s good to understand both sides,
though, don’t you think?”
“So your condition . . . ?”
“Is still in effect. I do see your point, Bella, but if you want me to change you myself. . . .”
“Dum, dum, dah-dum,” I hummed under my breath. I was going for the wedding march, but it sort of
sounded like a dirge.
Time continued to move too fast.
That night flew by dreamlessly, and then it was morning and graduation was staring me in the face. I had a
pile of studying to do for my finals that I knew I wouldn’t get halfway through in the few days I had left.
When I came down for breakfast, Charlie was already gone. He’d left the paper on the table, and that
reminded me that I had some shopping to do. I hoped the ad for the concert was still running; I needed the
phone number to get the stupid tickets. It didn’t seem like much of a gift now that all the surprise was gone. Of
course, trying to surprise Alice wasn’t the brightest plan to begin with.
I meant to flip right back to the entertainment section, but the thick black headline caught my attention. I
felt a thrill of fear as I leaned closer to read the front-page story.
SEATTLE TERRORIZED BY SLAYINGS
It’s been less than a decade since the city of Seattle was the hunting ground for the most prolific
serial killer in U.S. history. Gary Ridgway, the Green River Killer, was convicted of the murders of
48 women.
And now a beleaguered Seattle must face the possibility that it could be harboring an even more
horrifying monster at this very moment.
The police are not calling the recent rash of homicides and disappearances the work of a serial
killer. Not yet, at least. They are reluctant to believe so much carnage could be the work of one
individual. This killer — if, in fact, it is one person — would then be responsible for 39 linked
homicides and disappearances within the last three months alone. In comparison, Ridgway’s 48-
count murder spree was scattered over a 21-year period. If these deaths can be linked to one man,
then this is the most violent rampage of serial murder in American history.
The police are leaning instead toward the theory that gang activity is involved. This theory is
supported by the sheer number of victims, and by the fact that there seems to be no pattern in the
choice of victims.
From Jack the Ripper to Ted Bundy, the targets of serial killings are usually connected by
similarities in age, gender, race, or a combination of the three. The victims of this crime wave range
in age from 15-year-old honor student Amanda Reed, to 67-year-old retired postman Omar Jenks.
The linked deaths include a nearly even 18 women and 21 men. The victims are racially diverse:
Caucasians, African Americans, Hispanics and Asians.
The selection appears random. The motive seems to be killing for no other reason than to kill.
So why even consider the idea of a serial killer?
There are enough similarities in the modus operandi to rule out unrelated crimes. Every victim
discovered has been burned to the extent that dental records were necessary for identification. The
use of some kind of accelerant, like gasoline or alcohol, seems to be indicated in the conflagrations;
however, no traces of any accelerant have yet been found. All of the bodies have been carelessly
dumped with no attempt at concealment.
More gruesome yet, most of the remains show evidence of brutal violence — bones crushed and
snapped by some kind of tremendous pressure — which medical examiners believe occurred
before the time of death, though these conclusions are difficult to be sure of, considering the state of
the evidence.
Another similarity that points to the possibility of a serial: every crime is perfectly clean of evidence,
aside from the remains themselves. Not a fingerprint, not a tire tread mark nor a foreign hair is left
behind. There have been no sightings of any suspect in the disappearances.
Then there are the disappearances themselves — hardly low profile by any means. None of the
victims are what could be viewed as easy targets. None are runaways or the homeless, who vanish
so easily and are seldom reported missing. Victims have vanished from their homes, from a fourth-
story apartment, from a health club, from a wedding reception. Perhaps the most astounding: 30-
year-old amateur boxer Robert Walsh entered a movie theater with a date; a few minutes into the
movie, the woman realized that he was not in his seat. His body was found only three hours later
when fire fighters were called to the scene of a burning trash Dumpster, twenty miles away.
Another pattern is present in the slayings: all of the victims disappeared at night.
And the most alarming pattern? Acceleration. Six of the homicides were committed in the first
month, 11 in the second. Twenty-two have occurred in the last 10 days alone. And the police are
no closer to finding the responsible party than they were after the first charred body was
discovered.
The evidence is conflicting, the pieces horrifying. A vicious new gang or a wildly active serial killer?
Or something else the police haven’t yet conceived of?
Only one conclusion is indisputable: something hideous is stalking Seattle.
It took me three tries to read the last sentence, and I realized the problem was my shaking hands.
“Bella?”
Focused as I was, Edward’s voice, though quiet and not totally unexpected, made me gasp and whirl.
He was leaning in the doorway, his eyebrows pulled together. Then he was suddenly at my side, taking my
hand.
“Did I startle you? I’m sorry. I did knock. . . .”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “Have you seen this?” I pointed to the paper.
A frown creased his forehead.
“I hadn’t seen today’s news yet. But I knew it was getting worse. We’re going to have to do something . .
. quickly.”
I didn’t like that. I hated any of them taking chances, and whatever or whoever was in Seattle was truly
beginning to frighten me. But the idea of the Volturi coming was just as scary.
“What does Alice say?”
“That’s the problem.” His frown hardened. “She can’t see anything . . . though we’ve made up our minds
half a dozen times to check it out. She’s starting to lose confidence. She feels like she’s missing too much
these days, that something’s wrong. That maybe her vision is slipping away.”
My eyes were wide. “Can that happen?”
“Who knows? No one’s ever done a study . . . but I really doubt it. These things tend to intensify over
time. Look at Aro and Jane.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Self-fulfilling prophecy, I think. We keep waiting for Alice to see something so we can go . . . and she
doesn’t see anything because we won’t really go until she does. So she can’t see us there. Maybe we’ll have
to do it blind.”
I shuddered. “No.”
“Did you have a strong desire to attend class today? We’re only a couple of days from finals; they won’t
be giving us anything new.”
“I think I can live without school for a day. What are we doing?”
“I want to talk to Jasper.”
Jasper, again. It was strange. In the Cullen family, Jasper was always a little on the fringe, part of things
but never the center of them. It was my unspoken assumption that he was only there for Alice. I had the sense
that he would follow Alice anywhere, but that this lifestyle was not his first choice. The fact that he was less
committed to it than the others was probably why he had more difficulty keeping it up.
At any rate, I’d never seen Edward feel dependent on Jasper. I wondered again what he’d meant about
Jasper’s expertise. I really didn’t know much about Jasper’s history, just that he had come from somewhere in
the south before Alice found him. For some reason, Edward had always shied away from any questions about
his newest brother. And I’d always been too intimidated by the tall, blond vampire who looked like a
brooding movie star to ask him outright.
When we got to the house, we found Carlisle, Esme, and Jasper watching the news intently, though the
sound was so low that it was unintelligible to me. Alice was perched on the bottom step of the grand staircase,
her face in her hands and her expression discouraged. As we walked in, Emmett ambled through the kitchen
door, seeming perfectly at ease. Nothing ever bothered Emmett.
“Hey, Edward. Ditching, Bella?” He grinned at me.
“We both are,” Edward reminded him.
Emmett laughed. “Yes, but it’s her first time through high school. She might miss something.”
Edward rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored his favorite brother. He tossed the paper to Carlisle.
“Did you see that they’re considering a serial killer now?” he asked.
Carlisle sighed. “They’ve had two specialists debating that possibility on CNN all morning.”
“We can’t let this go on.”
“Let’s go now,” Emmett said with sudden enthusiasm. “I’m dead bored.”
A hiss echoed down the stairway from upstairs.
“She’s such a pessimist,” Emmett muttered to himself.
Edward agreed with Emmett. “We’ll have to go sometime.”
Rosalie appeared at the top of the stairs and descended slowly. Her face was smooth, expressionless.
Carlisle was shaking his head. “I’m concerned. We’ve never involved ourselves in this kind of thing
before. It’s not our business. We aren’t the Volturi.”
“I don’t want the Volturi to have to come here,” Edward said. “It gives us so much less reaction time.”
“And all those innocent humans in Seattle,” Esme murmured. “It’s not right to let them die this way.”
“I know,” Carlisle sighed.
“Oh,” Edward said sharply, turning his head slightly to look at Jasper. “I didn’t think of that. I see. You’re
right, that has to be it. Well, that changes everything.”
I wasn’t the only one who stared at him in confusion, but I might have been the only one who didn’t look
slightly annoyed.
“I think you’d better explain to the others,” Edward said to Jasper. “What could be the purpose of this?”
Edward started to pace, staring at the floor, lost in thought.
I hadn’t seen her get up, but Alice was there beside me. “What is he rambling about?” she asked Jasper.
“What are you thinking?”
Jasper didn’t seem to enjoy the spotlight. He hesitated, reading every face in the circle — for everyone
had moved in to hear what he would say — and then his eyes paused on my face.
“You’re confused,” he said to me, his deep voice very quiet.
There was no question in his assumption. Jasper knew what I was feeling, what everyone was feeling.
“We’re all confused,” Emmett grumbled.
“You can afford the time to be patient,” Jasper told him. “Bella should understand this, too. She’s one of
us now.”
His words took me by surprise. As little as I’d had to do with Jasper, especially since my last birthday
when he’d tried to kill me, I hadn’t realize that he thought of me that way.
“How much do you know about me, Bella?” Jasper asked.
Emmett sighed theatrically, and plopped down on the couch to wait with exaggerated impatience.
“Not much,” I admitted.
Jasper stared at Edward, who looked up to meet his gaze.
“No,” Edward answered his thought. “I’m sure you can understand why I haven’t told her that story. But I
suppose she needs to hear it now.”
Jasper nodded thoughtfully, and then started to roll up the arm of his ivory sweater.
I watched, curious and confused, trying to figure out what he was doing. He held his wrist under the edge
of the lampshade beside him, close to the light of the naked bulb, and traced his finger across a raised crescent
mark on the pale skin.
It took me a minute to understand why the shape looked strangely familiar.
“Oh,” I breathed as realization hit. “Jasper, you have a scar exactly like mine.”
I held out my hand, the silvery crescent more prominent against my cream skin than against his alabaster.
Jasper smiled faintly. “I have a lot of scars like yours, Bella.”
Jasper’s face was unreadable as he pushed the sleeve of his thin sweater higher up his arm. At first my
eyes could not make sense of the texture that was layered thickly across the skin. Curved half-moons
crisscrossed in a feathery pattern that was only visible, white on white as it was, because the bright glow of the
lamp beside him threw the slightly raised design into relief, with shallow shadows outlining the shapes. And
then I grasped that the pattern was made of individual crescents like the one on his wrist . . . the one on my
hand.
I looked back at my own small, solitary scar — and remembered how I’d received it. I stared at the
shape of James’s teeth, embossed forever on my skin.
And then I gasped, staring up at him. “Jasper, what happened to you?”
13. NEWBORN
“THE SAME THING THAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAND,” Jasper answered in a quiet voice. “Repeated a thousand
times.” He laughed a little ruefully and brushed at his arm. “Our venom is the only thing that leaves a scar.”
“Why?” I breathed in horror, feeling rude but unable to stop staring at his subtly ravaged skin.
“I didn’t have quite the same . . . upbringing as my adopted siblings here. My beginning was something
else entirely.” His voice turned hard as he finished.
I gaped at him, appalled.
“Before I tell you my story,” Jasper said, “you must understand that there are places in our world, Bella,
where the life span of the never-aging is measured in weeks, and not centuries.”
The others had heard this before. Carlisle and Emmett turned their attention to the TV again. Alice moved
silently to sit at Esme’s feet. But Edward was just as absorbed as I was; I could feel his eyes on my face,
reading every flicker of emotion.
“To really understand why, you have to look at the world from a different perspective. You have to
imagine the way it looks to the powerful, the greedy . . . the perpetually thirsty.
“You see, there are places in this world that are more desirable to us than others. Places where we can be
less restrained, and still avoid detection.
“Picture, for instance, a map of the western hemisphere. Picture on it every human life as a small red dot.
The thicker the red, the more easily we — well, those who exist this way — can feed without attracting
notice.”
I shuddered at the image in my head, at the word feed. But Jasper wasn’t worried about frightening me,
not overprotective like Edward always was. He went on without a pause.
“Not that the covens in the South care much for what the humans notice or do not. It’s the Volturi that
keep them in check. They are the only ones the southern covens fear. If not for the Volturi, the rest of us
would be quickly exposed.”
I frowned at the way he pronounced the name — with respect, almost gratitude. The idea of the Volturi as
the good guys in any sense was hard to accept.
“The North is, by comparison, very civilized. Mostly we are nomads here who enjoy the day as well as
the night, who allow humans to interact with us unsuspectingly — anonymity is important to us all.
“It’s a different world in the South. The immortals there come out only at night. They spend the day
plotting their next move, or anticipating their enemy’s. Because it has been war in the South, constant war for
centuries, with never one moment of truce. The covens there barely note the existence of humans, except as
soldiers notice a herd of cows by the wayside — food for the taking. They only hide from the notice of the
herd because of the Volturi.”
“But what are they fighting for?” I asked.
Jasper smiled. “Remember the map with the red dots?”
He waited, so I nodded.
“They fight for control of the thickest red.
“You see, it occurred to someone once that, if he were the only vampire in, let’s say Mexico City, well
then, he could feed every night, twice, three times, and no one would ever notice. He plotted ways to get rid
of the competition.
“Others had the same idea. Some came up with more effective tactics than others.
“But the most effective tactic was invented by a fairly young vampire named Benito. The first anyone ever
heard of him, he came down from somewhere north of Dallas and massacred the two small covens that shared
the area near Houston. Two nights later, he took on the much stronger clan of allies that claimed Monterrey in
northern Mexico. Again, he won.”
“How did he win?” I asked with wary curiosity.
“Benito had created an army of newborn vampires. He was the first one to think of it, and, in the
beginning, he was unstoppable. Very young vampires are volatile, wild, and almost impossible to control. One
newborn can be reasoned with, taught to restrain himself, but ten, fifteen together are a nightmare. They’ll turn
on each other as easily as on the enemy you point them at. Benito had to keep making more as they fought
amongst themselves, and as the covens he decimated took more than half his force down before they lost.
“You see, though newborns are dangerous, they are still possible to defeat if you know what you’re doing.
They’re incredibly powerful physically, for the first year or so, and if they’re allowed to bring strength to bear
they can crush an older vampire with ease. But they are slaves to their instincts, and thus predictable. Usually,
they have no skill in fighting, only muscle and ferocity. And in this case, overwhelming numbers.”
“The vampires in southern Mexico realized what was coming for them, and they did the only thing they
could think of to counteract Benito. They made armies of their own. . . .
“All hell broke loose — and I mean that more literally than you can possibly imagine. We immortals have
our histories, too, and this particular war will never be forgotten. Of course, it was not a good time to be
human in Mexico, either.”
I shuddered.
“When the body count reached epidemic proportions — in fact, your histories blame a disease for the
population slump — the Volturi finally stepped in. The entire guard came together and sought out every
newborn in the bottom half of North America. Benito was entrenched in Puebla, building his army as quickly
as he could in order to take on the prize — Mexico City. The Volturi started with him, and then moved on to
the rest.
“Anyone who was found with the newborns was executed immediately, and, since everyone was trying to
protect themselves from Benito, Mexico was emptied of vampires for a time.
“The Volturi were cleaning house for almost a year. This was another chapter of our history that will
always be remembered, though there were very few witnesses left to speak of what it was like. I spoke to
someone once who had, from a distance, watched what happened when they visited Culiacán.”
Jasper shuddered. I realized that I had never before seen him either afraid or horrified. This was a first.
“It was enough that the fever for conquest did not spread from the South. The rest of the world stayed
sane. We owe the Volturi for our present way of life.
“But when the Volturi went back to Italy, the survivors were quick to stake their claims in the South.
“It didn’t take long before covens began to dispute again. There was a lot of bad blood, if you’ll forgive
the expression. Vendettas abounded. The idea of newborns was already there, and some were not able to
resist. However, the Volturi had not been forgotten, and the southern covens were more careful this time. The
newborns were selected from the human pool with more care, and given more training. They were used
circumspectly, and the humans remained, for the most part, oblivious. Their creators gave the Volturi no
