[maevevolturi]

Temenos

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, mentions of manipulative behavior, Alec should be his own warning, a bit of violence, grief, loss, missing relative.

MDNI

Chapter 4

Gracie

'Handling the situation' turned out to be much more boring than Grace had imagined. She had expected a real hunt—tracking newborn vampires through the woods or a raid on their hideouts. Instead, Jane, Demetri, and Felix had taken off to find the person behind the whole mess, leaving Alec behind with her. Jane had said it very simply: Grace would just be "in the way." It was a blow to her pride, but it was true; she had no combat training, and she still couldn't use her shield to protect anyone but herself.  

Alec was less than pleased, to say the least. He was being forced to forfeit the grim satisfaction of the hunt—the dark "fun" of cornering a criminal and watching them squirm, witnessing that frantic, human-like desperation as they tried to justify the unjustifiable, even knowing their end was written in stone. He bled his frustration out onto Grace, his gaze growing sharper, more wary with every passing hour. 

They retreated to a dense, primeval stretch of forest midway between Seattle and Forks. The vegetation was so suffocatingly thick that no human hiker would dare wander in—a necessary precaution, as Grace was still a creature of raw, newborn instincts. 

That was another thorn in Alec’s side. He took it upon himself the bothersome task of bringing food for Grace, so nobody can accidentally see her. Though his manners remained impeccably polished, he could barely mask the mounting agitation beneath the surface. Grace tried—she truly did—to be pleasant, but she was met with a wall of ice. She had no idea why was he so damn angry at her, what could she possibly do in 4 days to make him feel so...agitated? As she was still in her newborn stage, she grew increasingly irritated by his behavior, and the air grew colder between them day by day.  

Alec’s behavior gave Grace a sense of emotional whiplash. There were fleeting moments when he looked at her and his eyes seemed almost... soft. But the second she tried to offer a smile or kindle a conversation, he recoiled as if she were a physical blight upon his world. He was a man at war with himself. Grace was too, but she at least attempted the veneer of civilization. How old is he, really? she wondered bitterly. Shouldn't he be better at this than me? 

Yet, she lived for the moments when he would sit with her and unravel the dark tapestries of his world. He spoke of the ancient laws, weaving stories of Aro, Caius, and Marcus with a melodic, soothing voice that acted like a balm on her jagged nerves. But those moments were ghosts—gone as soon as they appeared. 

On the fifth day of their isolation, the tension finally snapped. It was Alec’s fault, of course. 

“Aww, look at you,” he drawled, leaning against a moss-covered cedar, his voice dripping with condescension. “You’ve got a little blood-mustache. And a bit on your chin. And, well, a gallon on your chest.” 

“Do you truly have nothing better to do than lecture me?” Grace snapped, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. “I’m so sorry I forgot the family silverware at home. If I’d known my lack of etiquette would offend you so deeply, I’d have made sure to die with a silver straw in my bag!” 

Grace felt the heat of humiliation crawling up her neck. Alec didn't flinch; instead, he seemed to beam, basking in her outburst. 

“How could I ever pass up a chance to assist someone so clearly in need?” He pressed a hand to his heart—as if he had any—and cast a mocking look at the crimson pool staining the forest floor. 

“What I need is to be left alone! Why do you even care?!” 

“You need a shower, Grace. That is what you need. And new clothes, because nothing in this world is getting that blood out. Someone truly must teach you how to feed like a predator rather than a scavenger. You hesitate every time you start, yet you manage to waste half of it anyway,” he said flatly. 

There was truth in his words, which stung more than the insult. “What, am I supposed to just stroll into a motel?” she spat. “We’re in the middle of nowhere! And don’t act like your hands are clean!” He simply raised an arched eyebrow. Of course. Mr. Perfect didn't leave a mess. “Did you come here just to watch me beg for help, or is there a point?” 

“Don’t tempt me. Here are some clothes.” He gave Grace a bag. “It has soap too. And there’s a perfectly good waterfall right in front of you. Please don’t make me have to look at this mess any longer.” 

“Don’t tempt me. Here,” he said, tossing a bag toward her. “Clothes. Soap. And there’s a perfectly functional waterfall right in front of you. Please, spare me the sight of this disaster any longer.” 

Grace’s left eye twitched. She looked at his perfect, marble face—a face she found herself increasingly fascinated by, despite the venom he poured on her. She wanted to be near him, to talk to him as an equal, but every remark he made felt like a hammer blow to her heart. This was the final straw. 

"I went through the unimaginable in the last month!” She erupted, her voice echoing through the trees. “I was brutally beaten, had my arm, skull and jaw broken, turned into a bloodsucking vampire, and had to kill people to feed myself and keep my sanity! You seem to forget that a month ago, my biggest problem was choosing a career path and university!” 

 Alec seemed to have lost his voice; he just stood in front of Grace like a marble statue. Grace’s voice, however, was rising with every word. 

 “And now I have 'superpowers' that you all want to weaponize? God forbid I disappoint you by not mastering them in five days! To put the cherry on top, I lost my family too!” She was screaming now, stepping into his space, her finger jabbing at his chest. “One day I was loved by people and had a future ahead of me, and now they don’t even know where to look for my body! I’m terrified Riley will find them and kill them for me escaping him, too! Oh, and let’s not forget tearing my killer apart either! That was wonderful to go through, I didn’t even know what the fuck I was doing, and I hate him, but all I can feel now is a sickening crunch while I tore his head clean off, and I don’t fucking feel better, DO YOU HEAR ME, ALEC?!” 

He heard her. He didn't move. He didn't even try to stop her as her fists began to drum against his chest. 

“I escaped a sociopath who wanted me for a war, only to deal with an elitist, stuck-up, sadistic piece of shit who riles me up because I drank 'messily'? Are you out of your mind?! You act so polite, but I see right through it! You hate me, and I have no idea why! I don't deserve this from you! I never hurt you!” 

Grace hated the screaming. It wasn't her. She was the girl who stayed calm, who kept her voice measured. But now, every emotion was amplified, a roar in her head she couldn't quiet. Physically, she felt like she could tear down a tank, but mentally, she was hollowed out. She wanted to go home. She wanted to curl up on her carpet and cry until there was nothing left. She needed a hug so desperately that even now, she wouldn't have pushed him away if he had reached out. 

But Alec just stood there, staring at her as if he were seeing a person for the first time. Grace ripped the bag from his hand. 

“Thank you,” she spat, her voice thick with bitterness. “I’ll add this to the list of 'charities' you’ve performed for me. Now, turn around, or would you like to lower yourself from the heavens to soap my back, too?” 

Alec felt the unfamiliar weight of a mistake. He had burned entire villages to ash as if it were a mundane Tuesday chore, but this... this felt different. As Grace stomped away toward the hidden pool, he watched her retreating form. For the first time in centuries, he felt like an absolute asshole. 

She looked so fragile. Not physically—she was strong, well-formed, a predator in her own right—but in the vastness of the dark woods, she looked broken. Even while she was screaming at him, he had seen the plea in her eyes. She was made of glass, and he had spent five days scratching the surface just because he refused to face the truth. 

Guilt was not a feeling Alec Volturi lived with, recognised easily, cared enough to feel. 

In the hushed halls of Volterra, he was the master of manipulation. Every once in a decade, when he got bored out of his mind, he liked to play with their human servants. Just because he wasn't as distant, grumpy or downright sadistic as his sister, they thought he was kinder. He was just misunderstood. 

 Alec loved to lull them into a false sense of security, to make them blush, open up to him. Make them feel like he cared. He pretended to be understanding; sometimes, he even flirted. He loved the way their heart hammered in their chest when he smiled, looked them in the eye, or laughed. Loved when a shiver went through them, when his fingers brushed their hands, how they yearned for him, even though he never went further with humans.  

 But what he loved about this play even more was when he suddenly shattered this false image they had built up in their minds about him. The terror in their eyes, the betrayal, the tears - those were oh so lovely. Not physically, no. Humans - some smells, some sounds they made - repulsed him. He basked in the feeling that he had this kind of power over them.  

Sometimes even over other vampires. 

He actually couldn't believe his own ears when he involuntarily splurted out: 

"Sorry."  

The echo of the short word followed by the sudden urge to smash his face on the nearest rock wall for even uttering it. 

Grace didn’t look back at him, and Alec’s cold, unbeating heart twisted with a phantom pain. 

The realization struck him like a lightning bolt, nearly staggering him. 

Oh. Oh no. Absolutely not. He tried to rationalize it. If they just kept things civil, it would pass. It had to. Grace Sinclair was not—could not be—his mate. 

“... now they don’t even know where to look for my body! I’m terrified Riley will find them and kill them for me escaping him, too!” 

His body moved on it’s own when he walked back to the clearing and rummaged through the stuff in the backpack he saw Grace carrying everywhere. To his surprise, it was full of mundane things like a CD, her old water bottle, car keys, books, notes, and strange, pink rectangular bags. Women's stuff? Alec had no idea, but for some unknown reason, he felt like a criminal for touching them. Almost hissing, he threw them back where he found them.  

He also found a magazine about celebrities with horoscopes that smelled different than the rest of the bag, probably a friend's. It opened at a quiz—What type of pasta are you? Apparently, Grace was chicken alfredo. Alec grimaced. Jesus Christ. 

Finally, he found her wallet. He pulled out her ID. The photo was hideous—how could humans never take a proper picture? But there it was. Her address. 

Minutes later, Alec was a blur through the trees, running through Seattle, all the way to the quiet streets of Bellevue. 

He stopped in front of a sprawling, modern three-story house. It was beautiful, with vast windows overlooking the bay. Grace’s parents were inside. Alive. For now. 

He slipped through the front door like a ghost. The interior was spotless, grey-toned, and expensive. In the kitchen, he saw the back of a man—Grace’s father. He was tall, with the same raven hair as his daughter, but he was collapsing into himself. A bottle of whiskey sat on the table. No glass. 

He didn’t realize there was a vampire behind him, wandering around in the house soundlessly. Alec moved upstairs, walking past the bathroom. Despite the time being 2 am, Grace’s mother was kneeling on the floor with a toothbrush, scrubbing the (already spotless) grout. She looked like she was elsewhere, like she wasn’t even seeing what she was doing. Like a ghost, her face was hollow, with purple bags under her swollen, red eyes.  

She couldn’t possibly have seen Alec, who moved way too fast for her eyes to catch his movement, yet she perked up and looked at the door. She seemed jumpy, like a cornered, terrified animal.  

When he heard her start scrubbing again, Alec turned the knob of a white door with pink flowers painted on it, and stepped into Grace’s childhood bedroom.  

Her walls were a lovely shade of periwinkle, and her sweet, still human scent lingered everywhere, sweet and agonizing. He felt the venom pool in his mouth but ignored it, his eyes scanning every detail. The bed was made— purple frog-patterned sheets, really? 

Stepping away from her bed, he noticed pictures on her wall. Each with loved ones, or about nature. It seemed like Grace was quite a great photographer, which surprised Alec. He loved photography as well.  

Grace as a child, grinning on a podium. More trophies for academic competitions, gymnastics, and so on. And then, a photo of a sleek white boat named Gracie. She was at the helm, her father standing behind her, looking more proud than words could say. Her whole life laid out in front of him. On the picture with her dad, on a post it she wrote: U.S. Merchant Marine Academy, here I come! 

Alec had a strange, sinking feeling in his stomach. The Grace in these pictures, the girl who slept with a frog-patterned comforter, who still had her desk covered in school essays and books... He could practically see her slouching on this very chair, covering parts of her notes, studying, preparing for a future she’ll never have. Gracie was gone forever. But Grace had actual forever to become something else. Anything, really. 

Suddenly, Grace’s father stood up and headed upstairs, making his way toward his daughter’s bedroom. Alec cursed under his breath. He didn’t want to leave yet; he had come with a purpose—one he hadn’t fully thought through. Suddenly, he found himself wondering what, in the name of all that’s holy, he was doing there. He's here for the Volturi's sake. He can't have their possible greatest protection crumble from the death of her parents! The mental image of her face distorted from giref had nothing to do with it. Making a split-second decision, Alec Volturi swallowed his pride (it nearly choked him) and scrambled under the bed. It was a new low; he had finally hit rock bottom. Resigned to his fate, he closed his eyes and waited. 

The man pushed the door open and paced around the room. He checked the closet before stopping in the center of the room, taking a deep, shaky breath. He let out a low sob, then began taking deep breaths to calm himself. Even from under the bed, Alec could smell the stale alcohol clinging to him, the scent of someone who hadn’t bathed in days, and he could hear the frantic, uneven thumping of a heart under immense stress. Grace’s mother soon followed him in from the bathroom, bringing the sharp, antiseptic stench of bleach with her. Alec let out a silent snarl. They were polluting the sweet, lingering scent that filled the room. 

“She’s not here, and you know it,” the woman said, her voice raspy. “What are you expecting, William? That you’ll just walk in and she’ll be sitting there? That she’ll say hello and tell you she’s home?” Her voice was cold, devoid of any sympathy. Alec marveled at William’s restraint; the sudden spike in the man's heart rate suggested he desperately wanted to slap her. 

“I’m expecting you to finally disappear! Our daughter is gone. God knows where she is or what they’re doing to her, and you’ve been scrubbing that damn grout for two straight hours as if it matters!” By the end of the sentence, he was screaming into his wife’s face. 

The woman didn't flinch, though Alec couldn’t see her expression. Finally, her voice rose with a hint of accusation. 

“What is this? Why did you put this rag back?” She yanked the frog-patterned blanket off the bed. William ripped it out of her hands. 

“Don’t you dare touch it, Dawn! Don’t you ever take it off again!” 

“Grace was eighteen! It was time for her to grow up and act like a mature woman!” Dawn shouted back. 

“Have you lost your mind? Is this seriously your biggest problem—what’s on her bed? Lately, you’ve been hovering over her like a damn spider! ‘Get rid of your frogs, Grace,’ ‘Apply to Yale and Harvard, Grace,’ ‘You’re spending too much time with Abby, don't let it ruin your grades!’, ‘You HAVE to get into one of those universities, Grace,’ ‘Forget that navy nonsense, Grace!’, ‘Don’t wear that, don’t cut your hair like that, don’t use that perfume, wash off that makeup, don’t eat so much!’. Maybe she just left on her own!” 

SLAP. 

Dawn struck William across the face and burst into tears herself. 

“How can you say that to me? I only wanted the best for her! I only cared about her reaching her full potential so she could have a future! So she could be successful! So she wouldn't have to marry just for a quiet life! And you—you worked against me the whole time, letting her do everything I forbade just so you could be the ‘cool dad’! How dare you accuse me, you drunken pig!” SLAP. “Grace is dead, William! She’s never coming back! It doesn’t matter how much you pace around in here, or how many times you put that hideous rag back on her bed, or how much you drink yourself to death—we are never seeing our daughter again! And you’ve left me all alone; you collapsed, and now I have to handle everything by myself!” 

Dawn screamed in a frenzy, throwing the blanket to the floor. Her legs shook from the force of her sobbing, and Alec watched her tears fall into the fibers of the carpet. He saw two broken people before him, crushed under the weight of a sin they hadn't committed. Alec surprised himself; he was glad Grace wasn’t there to see this. Normally, he would have felt a twisted sense of pleasure in seeing Grace weep at such a scene. But now, even searching the deepest parts of his soul, he couldn’t find a shred of malice toward her. 

Dawn and William stormed out of the room, continuing their argument in the living room, hurling increasingly cruel insults at one another. For a moment, Alec rested his forehead against the floor and exhaled. As he prepared to crawl out from under the bed, he spotted a ragged, faded frog plushie. Grace had likely hidden it there to save it from her mother’s crusade. He couldn't help but smirk as he pocketed the worn-out toy. Tucked away under some papers on her desk, he noticed an old but beautifully crafted brass compass; Alec took that as well. 

The bed was a mess, and Grace’s pajamas—the ones she had last worn—peeked out from under the covers. Alec felt like a creep when he bent down to inhale her scent from her shirt deeply. Then, it suddenly hit him how he must look from the outside. Hiding under a bed and sniffing pajamas? He straightened up and buried his face in his hands. 

Aro is going to have a field day with these memories, he thought grimly, fists clenching at his sides, pride already hurt well in advance.

Then, the air changed. The shouting continued in the living room, but a different scent wafted up the stairs. A vampire. 

Alec sped down the stairs soundlessly and came to a halt in front of the intruder. The stranger stood not far from Grace’s arguing parents, staring at the prey with dilated pupils. So, the girl’s fear had been justified after all. 

The stranger caught sight of Alec, and horror washed over his face as he noticed the crest around Alec’s neck—the symbol of the Volturi. Alec jerked his chin toward the door, and the vampire nodded, understanding. 

The street was deathly silent. The stranger stood defeated before a member of the Volturi guard, and Alec felt a familiar, sticky emotion pooling in his heart. Good. Be afraid, lowlife. 

“A late-night visit?” Alec asked pleasantly, as if asking about the weather, making the man flinch. He didn’t know how to handle the situation. 

“I’m following orders,” he finally replied reluctantly, daring to look Alec in the eye for the first time. Alec smiled back at him. 

“I thought as much. I’m sure your presence here has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the girl being mourned inside—which, by the way, is surely not your fault either—escaped you a few days ago. Am I correct?” 

“Y...yes.” 

“You’re lying, mongrel!” Alec watched the figure with a bright smile. “I know the truth. Within ten minutes of her escape, the girl—Grace—found her place within the ranks of the Volturi. We have plans for her. Even you can understand that much, can’t you? The Volturi have plans for her. I’m sure your creator told you about their little encounter with my sister.” Riley—if it were possible—turned even paler. 

“You’re Alec?” he asked. Alec was now thoroughly enjoying himself. He felt his invisible mist reach the man’s feet, and the vampire simply went numb, paralyzed. 

Watching Riley’s terrified face as he stared blankly into the void, wondering if he even still existed, a limitless, cold joy crept into Alec’s soul. Once he had savored the moment enough, he withdrew the mist and grabbed Riley by the throat. 

“You are going to get out of here. You aren't coming back—not you, and not any other filth from your pack.” Riley could only nod, and the moment Alec let go, he turned his back to run. Alec immediately sent his mist on Riley again, just for good measure. Riley was crawling on the dirty ground beneath Alec's feet, didn’t see or feel where. After a few good minutes, when Alec found he was terrified enough, he finally let him go, and Riley vanished into the night. 

Alec had wanted to kill him, but he didn't know what Jane was planning; they hadn't seen each other in six days. He didn't want to jeopardize his sister’s schemes, so he forced himself to hold back. 

Grace didn’t know where Alec had disappeared to after she had yelled at him. When she returned from her bath, he was simply gone. Probably burning down an orphanage, she thought with a dry sense of humor. 

The water had been wonderful, and she enjoyed the fact that despite the icy temperature, she didn't feel the cold. The outfit Alec had brought her was a beautifully draped black skirt and a three-quarter-sleeve turtleneck. It covered her from neck to toe, the fabric soft against her skin. He had also provided a pair of light black shoes. To her surprise, she felt good in it. She was just spinning around to admire the skirt when she noticed Alec standing among the trees, watching her. 

“Hi,” she waved, and he stepped closer. “Thank you for the clothes. My mother never let me wear black,” she added casually, avoiding his gaze. 

There was something unreadable in his expression as he looked at her. Finally, after the silence became awkward, he swallowed and spoke. 

“Here,” he said, pressing a bundle into Grace’s hands. 

“My frog! My compass!” she squealed, a wave of warmth flooding her heart. “How did you get them? Did you go into our house?” 

“How else would I have gotten them?” Alec asked, unused to triggering such genuine outbursts of joy in others. He began to fiddle with his thumb and took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. Should he tell her? Or not? He decided not to. 

“Your parents are alive. They aren't well, there's no point denying that. But they will be okay.” He said it with such certainty that Grace, though she didn’t know why, believed him. 

If she started questioning why he went there or teasing him now, they would end up right back where they started—arguing. Grace didn’t want that. Overcome by a sudden warmth, and before she could overthink it, she pressed a kiss to Alec’s left cheek. Alec had the reflexes to dodge, but he didn’t. “Thank you.” Alec looked as if he might sink into the ground right then and there. Grace’s lips left a lingering buzz on his cheek, and he felt like an idiotic boy. His embarrassment wasn't helped by the loud, suggestive whistling from between the trees, followed by a teasing grin and a massive, robust frame. 

“Hey, Felix,” Grace stammered. Behind Felix, Demetri and Jane also stepped into the clearing, causing Alec and Grace to scramble apart. 

“I see you two have been getting cozy! Just say the word and we’ll leave you to it!” Demetri teased. Jane, meanwhile, looked as if she had just been told Christmas was canceled. Grace couldn't let them mock Alec back into his shell. 

“I just nagged Alec until he went to see how my parents were doing!” she lied without blinking. “And I asked him to bring me a few things while he was there. I was afraid Riley might attack them, but luckily, there's no danger.” 

Felix rolled his eyes and waved her off dismissively, looking like someone whose favorite TV show had just been postponed. Alec gave Grace a grateful look, then stepped toward Jane. Jane hugged her brother, but didn't spare Grace a single glance. 

“Get ready, Alec,” Jane declared. “We are going to war.” 

[maevevolturi]

Temenos

Warnings: None

chapter 3

Stirred

Grace didn’t know how to respond at first. She didn’t know who these people were to question her. She had never liked being held accountable by anyone, but something told her that, shield or no shield, it wouldn’t be wise to say that out loud.

There were four of them, clad in floor-length cloaks. Two in the center wore black; the two flanking them on the right and left wore dark grey.

The girl in black, standing in the middle, stared at Grace for a moment as if she didn’t know what to make of the situation—or the fact that she hadn't received an answer, even though she wasn't the one who had asked. Her left eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.

Grace had wanted to escape Riley, and she had succeeded. She had been heading out of the city when she stumbled into them. She felt like she had jumped from the frying pan into the fire, and as she looked at them, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. They stood before her motionless, relentless, their hard features carrying a sense of ancient stillness—the absolute confidence born of undeniable superiority. Even though she was a vampire herself, Grace felt like prey before a predator under the crossfire of their gazes. It felt as if she were standing naked in a blizzard. It was uncomfortable. Unsettling.

However, she had likely left at the very last moment. She was far enough from the army now to be seen as a lone vampire, rather than immediately being grouped with them. Had they met further inside the city, Grace suspected they wouldn’t have stopped to talk to her at all.

The figures facing her—three men and one woman—stared at her with resigned expressions. The girl was blonde, an angelic beauty with full lips. She looked roughly the same age as Grace, but the soft, deep crimson of her eyes showed she was far older. It wasn't the garish red of the other newborns Grace had seen; she radiated boredom and arrogance.

The boy in black standing beside her resembled her so closely they could only be twins. His hair was a warm dark brown, his lips less full, his features slightly more angular than the girl's, but in Grace's estimation, he defined the word breathtaking. He didn't look as bored as his sister; instead, he stared at Grace with a calculating calm, a hint of interest flickering in his eyes.

"You're the girl from the posters plastered all over the city. Grace Eleanor Sinclair," the boy in the black cloak finally spoke.

A faint shiver ran through Grace's body at the melodic sound of his voice as he said her name. He enunciated every syllable carefully, as if testing whether it suited the girl standing before him.

"Yes, I am."

"Who created you?"

"A man named Riley Biers."

"Where is he?" the boy asked, to which Grace jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the city.

"Somewhere in the city with the others."

"Why aren't you with the others?" the girl asked finally.

"I am not willing to die with them, for them, or because of them," Grace replied honestly, as there was no point in lying or denial.

"What makes you think you're going to die?" The boy raised an eyebrow.

Grace sighed. She felt like she was in the middle of an interrogation, but this only confirmed what she had suspected all along. At this moment, her escape seemed like a good decision; if nothing else, it had bought her a chance.

"Riley's story is full of holes and falls apart at every turn. If you actually think about it, nothing he says makes any sense," she replied with slight hesitation, unsure how much she should reveal or what these figures already knew.

"And what kind of story is it?" the girl pried, her shapely eyebrows knitting together in frustration.

Grace finally decided to lay out her intuitions and suspicions.

"Riley told me that vampires live forever. Immediately after, he threatened us that if we go into the sun, we’ll die, and that we can be killed with a wooden stake. Since I turned, my whole body feels nothing but strength. Stone feels as soft as cheese; I’m not cold, I’m not hot. I don't need air or food—in short, I don't have to be a genius to realize that Riley is either an idiot or he takes me for one. This body certainly won't be destroyed by something as formless as light. And a piece of wood? Definitely not."

Grace rolled her eyes and began to tap her foot impatiently. A rising anger flared within her as she thought about the moronic methods they had used to nearly lead her to her death.

The large man standing to the boy's right began to chuckle softly, his grin widening. He had to be over two meters tall, and raw, animalistic strength radiated from every inch of him. Despite her shivering, Grace’s words—the ones she had been brooding over for days—burst out of her.

"Right?! And then he informed us that we exist to kill some 'Cullens' in Forks, otherwise they’ll come to hunt us down! What bullshit! If you're that afraid, why create even more uncontrollable lunatics?" Grace was practically shouting now, then turned her back on the group for a moment, yelling toward Seattle to finish the sentence: "You imbecile! You idiot!"

Turning back, she continued, indifferent to her audience’s bewilderment. They were clearly not used to such blunt venting.

"The news has been full of Riley’s gang’s rampage for months—why haven't these 'Cullens' shown up yet to kill every single one of us?! Then Riley brought a red blouse, a girl's. He said her scent would lead us to the Cullens. So this brain-dead fool, devoid of any strategic sense or capacity for critical thinking, walked right into the middle of the Cullens' territory, brought the girl’s blouse all the way here, so that we would go and kill them all. If they wanted a fight, any idiot could have followed Riley back here, blouse and all!"

Grace continued pacing back and forth. The large man was now decidedly guffawing, and even the boy had a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Then it clicked. According to Riley, the Cullens are old. Which means vampires existed long before I was born, yet I never heard of them—or at least they never made such a conspicuous mess. This is interesting because newborns are almost uncontrollable, yet somehow they manage to live among humans unnoticed. Therefore, there must be some kind of deterrent, and the most obvious solution is some kind of organization. People who look after the Rileys and the idiots of the world. Which means the Cullens aren't coming because they don't have to. It means Riley lied to me, and if we go to Forks, either the Cullens will kill us, or these mysterious figures Riley is so visibly terrified of will."

Grace finally turned back to the cloaked figures, running her pale fingers through her hair as she tried to calm herself.

"You’re quite the clever little newborn, aren’t you, little girl?" the large man laughed. "This Riley of yours really stepped in it with you."

"Enough, Felix," the girl snapped without even glancing at him. Felix stepped back, silent but still looking at Grace with amusement.

"He is not 'my Riley'. I lost everything because of them, and I see it was for nothing. He tries to pose as a leader, but every decision he makes is a logical backflip. He can't follow any system; he's inconsistent and can't even maintain his authority. I assume I’m right in guessing that you are the ones, aren't you? Some kind of... vampire police, or something of the sort..."

"You assume correctly," the boy replied, and Grace found herself burning with the desire to know his name.

"So, you escaped," the boy nodded toward Grace, signaling her to continue.

"Yes. I took my revenge on the one who did this to me. Not that Riley would have cared, but I had a feeling he wouldn't have wished me luck if I’d told him I was leaving." Grace made a face. "I refuse to protect him. Let him solve his own problems. He did this; he should face the consequences. Anyway, I have a feeling he’ll soon regret ever being born."

The girl’s eyebrows shot up again, and she asked, searching Grace’s face:

"Protect him? What exactly do you mean by that?"

Grace was thankful she couldn't blush. In the heat of her outburst, she had let it slip. Mentally, she slapped her forehead, but the damage was done. Perhaps they wouldn't attack her if they knew it was futile. But if they could penetrate the shield, she was finished—she was certain of that. Under the girl’s gaze, she felt like a particularly annoying bug, and she wouldn't have minded if she finally looked elsewhere.

"That's why Riley changed me. On the last night of my life, when Jared attacked me, I... I don't know how, but for a moment, I managed to make him stumble back."

The boy’s eyes flashed. The blonde man to the girl's left, who had been measuring Grace with narrowed eyes the whole time, finally spoke.

"She held off a vampire while still human? That would explain why I can't feel her tenor, Jane."

He didn't look particularly friendly toward Grace either. He was lean; he and Felix seemed like a blade and a hammer. Jane tilted her head, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"So, you have a shield?" she asked accusingly. Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Grace felt she had inadvertently touched a nerve, something that had nothing to do with her personally.

"Yes. For now, I can only protect myself, but no physical attack has pierced it—at least, no one has succeeded yet. And there’s a guy, Fred, who everyone seems to be repulsed by for some reason. If that’s an ability, it doesn't affect me either. I don't really know what all this is. Riley said if I practice, I might be able to protect others..." Grace explained.

An appreciative light flickered in the brown-haired boy's eyes, but it vanished so quickly that Grace wasn't sure if it was ever there at all.

"What do you think, sister? Shall we take her to Aro?" he asked his sister softly.

"You may be right, Alec. The Master will be the best judge of the situation," Jane replied, smiling faintly at her twin brother, though her tense posture suggested otherwise.

Alec.

Alec, Alec, Alec, Alec, Alec...

The name echoed in Grace's head, and a strange tingling spread through her chest. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, angry with herself. She didn't understand what could possibly trigger such a strange interest in a total stranger she had met less than fifteen minutes ago. She never felt anything like this, despite her still being a teenager. She always felt irritated every time her close friends ranted about this or that boy at school; she never felt the need to join them. Couldn’t feel attraction towards any of them; she didn’t trust them enough to feel the need to go on a date, for example.

Besides all this, the word 'Master' sent a cold, unpleasant sensation through her stomach. The thought of a new kind of servitude filled her with rage and disgust.

Jane, misinterpreting the small movement of her head, added:

"If what you claim is true, and if I gather correctly from your words, you agree that order is necessary among vampires." When Grace nodded, she continued. "We, the Volturi, maintain that order, as you yourself suspected. The Volturi does not give second chances to anyone. You are a local, and your face is all over the city; you cannot stay here. Our secret is at risk if you wander about. You would likely be most useful with us." It was clear she didn't enjoy saying this, and her gaze remained hard.

"For now, we remain here until we decide how to handle the situation," she gestured toward Seattle with her right hand, "but afterwards, you may come with us to Volterra. Aro, Marcus, and Caius are the heads of the Volturi. You can discuss the rest with them."

Grace hesitated. They couldn't take her by force. They couldn't kill her. Yet, she felt that if this was the situation, it was worth a try. She glanced at Alec, then quickly looking away, she said:

"So, you're not going to attack me all at once or anything?"

Alec grinned. It wasn't a kind, playful grin, but as if Grace had voiced exactly what he was thinking.

"Would you like us to, Grace? I’m sure Felix would be happy to test this wonderful new shield of yours."

Grace was overcome by several emotions at once. A part of her wanted Felix never to come near her again, even though he hadn't done anything yet. Another part of her actually wanted to try what Alec suggested. And on top of it all, she wanted Alec never to say her name again. She found herself shivering and wanting to step closer to him. To have the others disappear so she could talk to him, ask him questions. The reins of her own mind and heart were slipping from her hands, and she wanted to hold them back with an iron grip.

Grace was the master of her own mind and heart, no one else. What she suspected was happening to her—for the first time in her life—she couldn't allow. Not until the time and place were right.

"Why do I get the feeling that you’re quite thrilled by the idea of me being used to mop the floor, Alec?" Grace shot back, and saying his name felt wonderful.

Idiot. Stop it. He’s just a stranger, and he didn't come with a gift basket.

Alec looked at Felix with a beatific smile and made a "let's see what happens" gesture. Grace's heart no longer beat, but she was certain it had skipped a beat nonetheless. She tried not to show it, but Alec caught her tension and was clearly enjoying her struggle. Felix as well.

Grace immediately pulled her shield around her, and in that instant, Felix slammed into it with incomprehensible, animalistic force—then bounced right off.

The man's eyes widened in shock. Even Jane looked slightly taken aback, and Alec’s smile faded a little. But his angelic features were even more beautiful when he smiled. No, no, enough. The blonde man also stood bewildered by what had happened but didn't intervene as Felix tried again and again, in vain.

Finally, he laughed loudly and stepped back, throwing his arms in the air.

"You win, kid!"

Grace still hardly believed her luck, but she couldn't—and didn't want to—suppress the triumphant little voice inside her that she had proven stronger than Felix. Well, her shield has.

"Regrettably, I didn't get to see Felix use you as a mop," Alec sighed dejectedly, seemingly crushed by the little sight of Felix’s failure. "But no matter, what's delayed is not lost," he added.

"But does it only resist physical attack?" Jane mused aloud, and one of Alec’s fingers twitched almost imperceptibly.

Jane looked at Grace, a thin smile playing on her lips. This couldn't be a good sign, especially since her frustration was visibly growing after Felix’s failed attacks. Grace didn't want to serve as a lightning rod for her anger.

"Try not to scream, alright?" Jane said, and then something Grace couldn't see struck her shield. It was a different feeling than Felix’s blows.

It was a strange, stabbing sensation, but it caused her no harm. Out of curiosity, Grace lowered the shield, but still, nothing happened. It likely hadn't disappeared, just receded, and its effect remained against a mental attack like Jane’s.

Since Grace didn't react, Jane’s eyes flashed with lightning. Rage seethed within her, as if Grace were the final straw in a cup that was now overflowing. Her beautiful face contorted, her hands clenched into fists, and she let out a menacing growl. Her behavior was so at odds with their regal demeanor that Grace suddenly didn't know what was happening.

Finally, Alec wrapped an arm around Jane’s shoulder and whispered something to her. He gently leaned his head against hers, and the girl eventually calmed down. They shared a bitter smile and said something to each other, of which Grace only caught "déjà vu" and "this is stronger than the girl."

Watching them, something nasty gripped Grace’s heart, something she couldn't quite place. It was a searing feeling, lasting only a second, and for some reason, it was directed toward Jane.

She was beginning to feel like an emotional illiterate; too many unknown feelings were swirling inside her. Suddenly, it occurred to her that if she were still in school, Abby would spend the whole next day wondering what horoscope would fit Alec or what his sign might be. In Grace's head, however, the only thought was how to get the best out of this situation. She might be safe, but her family lived here.

Abby, Dad, Mom... it felt like a lifetime ago. What would they say if they saw her now?

Jane was still looking at her as if she had walked over her most sacred feelings with muddy feet, and she refused to speak further. Grace was unmoved. She wouldn't apologize, she wouldn't grovel, and she wouldn't make excuses. Currently, only she was standing up for her own interests; she could count on no one else, and she wouldn't let herself down.

Breaking the tense silence, Alec took over for his sister.

"So, what do you say? Will you come with us? Who knows, maybe we’ll end up as bosom buddies!"

His smile was polite, but there was a faint, almost imperceptible mockery in his eyes.

"I'll go with you. I can't wait to meet the rest of your 'bosom buddies'. I don't like talking much anyway," Grace replied dryly, at which the blonde man snorted, though he tried to mask his laughter as a cough. It only made it worse because vampires don't cough.

This surely crossed Alec’s mind too, as he turned toward the man with exaggerated politeness.

"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you, Demetri?"

Demetri didn't take the bait. It would have probably been better if Alec had yelled at him.

Grace was even more fascinated by the boy. Two such vampires were his subordinates, and he had to balance out his sister's hotheadedness. This likely wasn't the first time he had saved the situation—or Jane's remaining dignity. Nevertheless, Grace wouldn't fall for him. She wouldn't let Alec see what an effect he had on her.

What Grace didn't know, however, was that similar thoughts were swirling in Alec's head. Compared to him, this girl was still new to life. Alec had been maintaining order in vampire society for centuries; his name was already feared when Grace Sinclair’s great-great-grandmother hadn't even existed. He wouldn't let the girl or anyone else see what an effect she had on him. The way she said his name. The defiant glint in her eyes.

Her power could pose a threat to the Volturi, and it was a stroke of divine luck that they had found her instead of, say, Vladimir and Stefan. Furthermore, if she stood with them and not against them, other vampires would not see her as a symbol of resistance, but as the latest proof of the Volturi's unquestionable superiority. Order would be maintained, their terrifying reputation preserved. This was a winning situation; now it was up to Aro to make Grace an enticing offer.

As for the feelings churning beneath the mirror-smooth surface of his own soul—he would deal with those himself.

If only she wouldn't look at him constantly. If only her lips wouldn't part whenever she looked at his.

[maevevolturi]

Temenos

Mature Content, MDNI

Warnings: Character death , explicit descriptions of violence, pookie won't be a vegetarian vampire, we care about animal welfare here.

ALEC X OC CHARACTER, He's coming in chapter 3

Chapter 2

Say hello to death!

An eternity had passed. Grace felt as though her bones had been pulverized, her skin melted away, and her blood evaporated, only to be replaced by something cold, hard, and final. Towards the end, the world rushed back in—a cacophony of noises she couldn't name—while her heart hammered against her ribs like a dying helicopter. It felt like a heart attack that wouldn't end. Someone had already removed the rag from her mouth, and she lay on the floor of a cavernous, unknown space. Then, the fire in her chest flickered and died; her heart gave a few erratic flutters, then went silent forever.

She opened her eyes.

It was as if she were seeing for the first time. The world was no longer soft; its edges were jagged and precise. She was in a vast, rusting warehouse. Her new eyes could isolate individual specks of dust suspended in the stagnant air. She could make out the tiny, spiny hairs on a spider in the furthest, darkest corner, catalog every blotch of rust on the metal walls, and differentiate every drop of dried, dirty oil on the concrete.

But the most profound difference was the absence. Of pain. Any kind of pain, or even the slightest physical discomfort. Her muscles weren't sore; her wrists were in pristine condition, and her headache had evaporated without a trace. For a split second, Grace thought her soul must have finally separated from her body, because no body made of flesh and bone could feel this strong, this utterly perfect.

She intended to stand, and so her body complied. There was no conscious sequence of thought—no lifting the leg, shifting the weight, or balancing; the execution was instantaneous. People were around her, though only a few even batted an eye at her. Most were preoccupied with what looked less like fighting and more like tearing each other apart. The others looked bored out of their mind, standing like statues, and a few of them played cards behind a ragged, ancient, discolored, once-green couch.

Grace scanned the room, but Jared was nowhere to be found. Instead, Riley was perched high above on a rusted steel beam, watching her like a vulture. When she met his gaze, he simply dropped. Grace flinched, expecting the impact to crush him, but to her dismay, he landed soundlessly. A lazy, arrogant smirk was plastered across his face.

“Rise and shine, Gracie,” he said.

The urge to rip his head off was instantaneous—a physical, visceral pressure. Only her father called her Gracie, and hearing the nickname from this man felt like a theft. He was reaching into her private life, touching a memory that didn't belong to him, like he was brutalizing her all over again. Grace found herself baring her teeth, a low, guttural growl vibrating in her throat before she could even process it.

“Don’t you ever call me that. Don’t you ever call me anything,” she spat. “How do you even know my name? What did you do to me?”

She was seeing red. Her new body was a stranger to her. For the first time in her life, Grace felt the itching, biological necessity to murder, and she knew—with terrifying certainty—that her body could finally deliver on the promise written on her face. She was trembling with wrath, and she saw Riley’s smirk falter as he tensed, sensing the shift in the air.

But Grace Sinclair was a woman of consistency and rationality. She needed answers, and Riley wasn’t alone; the odds were not in her favor. She forced herself back from the edge, taking a long, deliberate breath. It felt hollow—her lungs didn’t need the air—but the ritual of it calmed her nerves. The red haze began to thin.

“I gave you a second chance at life, Grace. A better one,” he replied, his tone smooth, almost practiced.

Grace stared at him, her mouth agape. She was certain she had misheard him. The words coming out of his mouth were so disconnected from reality that her mind struggled to process them. It was as if they were speaking two different languages.

“Excuse me? I didn’t quite catch that,” she said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, icy politeness. Now that she was listening, her own voice startled her—it sounded like tinkling silver bells, crystalline and hauntingly beautiful. “Would you be so kind as to elaborate on why, exactly, you believe you have given me anything?”

“I could’ve let you die in his hands. But I chose to change you. I made you a god, Grace. An immortal vampire. You can thank me later by helping us fulfill our purpose,” Riley said with absolute, unshakeable confidence. He looked at her with a patronizing tilt of his head, as if he couldn't fathom why she wasn't already kneeling in gratitude. He had even sent Jared away until she 'collected herself'—as if a brutal assault and a death sentence were just a minor emotional hurdle to clear.

“Vampire?” Grace’s face contorted into a mask of indignation and sheer disbelief. But as she sifted through the blurry, fragmented memories of that night, the pieces began to click into place. The news reports about the 'Seattle murders,' the impossible speed, the thirst. It all started to make sense. A terrifying, logical sense.

Thirst.

Oh, God, the thirst. Like glowing embers, burning her throat. If she were able to tear up, she would have. She was already gripping her own throat, groaning. Riley made a gesture with his right hand, and a young man walked up to them.

“This is Diego. He will help you with your first hunt. Try not to get yourself killed, will you? And be a good girl, and try to recreate that little stunt you pulled against Jared, alright? Don’t make me regret saving you. I mean, this is your new home, I fear. And you,” he pointed at Diego, “ you know the drill. No one can see her. Keep her in check, and far away from Jared.”

Diego just nodded and grabbed Grace by the hand. He led her out of the warehouse, away from the others. The whole area the warehouse resided in was abandoned, rusty, and weeds had grown through the concrete everywhere. Diego didn’t look back at Grace until they had reached what seemed to be the border of the area.

Then Diego finally turned around and looked Grace in the eye. He was flawlessly beautiful, like every vampire Grace had seen in the warehouse, but his eyes were kinder—though just as red as the others. His expression was more open, his posture relaxed. Grace’s instincts told her she had nothing to fear from Diego.

“Alright. Your name is Grace, right?” Grace nodded. “Before I get into any explanations, you need to drink.” When Grace shook her head violently, Diego placed his hands on her arms and leaned down slightly to meet her eyes.

“You won’t be able to listen to me until you’ve fed. If you refuse to drink, eventually you’ll go mad from the pain and kill the first passerby you see, whether it’s a kid on a bike or a yoga mom. Is that what you want?”

“No,” Grace rasped. She had to admit Diego was right. She wanted to scream.

The pleasant, soft memories of her life so far caressed her soul, but Grace steeled herself, trampling them down into the deepest corners of her heart. She couldn’t collapse; now was not the time. She could only solve one thing at a time, and right now, dwelling on her losses wasn’t it.

Seeing the change in her demeanor, Diego nodded with satisfaction.

“You’re far more disciplined than most. Many just run toward the scent of humans with foam at their mouths. I have a safe spot where you can drink in peace. Come with me.”

The world blurred past them at a dizzying speed as Grace ran after Diego. She was certain that if she were still human, she would only see a blur, but her new eyes had no trouble focusing on the smallest pebble or a tiny petal by the roadside. Just like everything else so far, running required no effort. Every cell in her new body worked mechanically, propelling her through the night with ease, exerting this immense power effortlessly. Her heart didn’t pound to slow her pace, her lungs didn’t scream for air, and her muscles didn’t weaken. It felt as if she could keep this pace forever. It was a magnificent feeling, and despite herself, Grace let out a genuine, wonder-filled laugh.

Diego grinned but didn’t look back. Finally, they reached a dilapidated shack on the edge of town, far from everything. Strange moans, faint, obscene music, and laughter drifted out.

“Behold, milady: dinner.” He gestured theatrically toward the shack. “A drug den. Elite menu, à la Seattle.”

“Am I supposed to… break in there?” Grace recoiled, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Never in her life had she interacted with people like this, and the smells wafting out were revolting. Urine, vomit, stale alcohol, and sweat. Only a tiny part of her new brain registered that those inside were human beings. What was left of her humanity waved from the depths, pleading with her not to do it. She didn’t know how these people ended up here, she didn’t know who they truly were. They didn’t deserve to die for what they were doing; they weren’t hurting anyone but themselves… were they?

At the same time, her rational side understood that she had to drink. And it shouldn’t be an innocent child. The thirst was becoming agonizing; she could barely stay still. She heard the hearts beating inside. Pumping that sweet, warm, thick liquid that could extinguish this unbearable fire.

Ba-dumm. Ba-dumm. Ba-dumm.

Grace felt like she was losing her mind. She began to whimper softly, clutching her throat. The agony intensified until it was unbearable. And then, by some miracle, two men came out. Two large men stopped by the wall to relieve themselves. Grace had no time to think, no time to lament over morals. She only felt the fire in her throat, and venom flooded her mouth at the sweet scent of human blood.

Before she knew it, she was standing behind one of them as he was fixing his pants. The other finished too, and they turned around.

“What the—” the larger one began, but he never had the chance to finish. Grace’s teeth sank into his throat.

As the blood surged into her mouth and she swallowed the first gulp, she let out a soft moan as the fire subsided. The warm liquid cascaded down her throat, and Grace’s eyes rolled back. She was dimly aware of Diego pinning the other man down so he couldn’t scream. When Grace finished with the first, she lunged at the second. She drank until both bodies were empty and the fire in her throat finally went out.

When the red mist cleared from her mind, Grace looked down at her blood-stained, filthy clothes. She had been wearing them since she left home that morning. Then she looked at the men, and she felt nothing. Just numbness and the lack of empathy or guilt scared her slightly. She should feel something, anything. Diego picked up the two men and beckoned for Grace to follow.

“I saw these two using this car earlier,” he explained, stuffing them into a gray sedan. He tied their hands to the steering wheel and set the car on fire. “They’re full of your venom,” he noted, “so it’s going to burn very hot. We have to erase every trace.”

Grace only nodded and turned away. She didn’t want to watch the burning. She started walking back, but Diego stopped a few miles further.

“I’ll be right back. Wait for me here, okay?” Grace nodded.

She just stood there, staring ahead, trying to process what she had done.

“Well, well, look who we have here. The little princess!”

Jared’s unmistakable voice crawled into Grace’s ears, and her soul was filled with a foul, sticky hatred. She looked at Jared, and if she were capable of feeling dizzy, she would have staggered from the sheer force of her rage.

“What do you want, you piece of shit?” Grace spat, making no attempt to hide her feelings.

“Piece of shit? Ouch, that hurts. I just wanted to apologize, now that we’re on the same side and all.” He placed a hand over his heart with a sanctimonious expression. “I’m sorry, Gracie. There was nothing personal in my attacking you. But, well, you understand now, I couldn’t let you run. And you played that trick on me at the docks, so let’s call it even, shall we? No hard feelings.”

Gracie. Jared called her Gracie. Jared.

“No hard feelings? You couldn’t just let me go? We’re on the same side?” The girl breathed softly, staring at Jared. “Then tell me one more thing: why did you wait until Diego left?”

Without a word, Jared lunged at Grace, his face distorted with rage.

“Riley’s new little pet, huh?!” he screamed. “You humiliated me at the docks, you filthy little witch! How did you stop me back then, when you were just a human?! Daddy is tearing the city apart for you, but he doesn’t know you’re never going home! Life was only hard for you when you were being born, princess—it’s time you learned a lesson about the real world!”

Snarling, he reached for her, but he couldn’t touch her. Grace, instinctively, raised her hands to defend herself. It would have been a futile gesture, but she felt a sort of dome explode from her body—something Jared couldn’t see, but Grace felt like a new limb. It stretched between them, and as Jared slammed his fist into it, he let out a howl of pain. He stared at his hand, confused, and Grace seized the opportunity, punching him in the face with all her strength. The shield didn’t break from the inside; it molded to her fist, following her movement. Jared flew backward, cracks appearing on his face.

He had no time to get up because Grace was already on top of him, striking him wherever she could, thinking of nothing else. She unleashed a torrent of insults, refusing to let him rise.

That’s when Diego appeared, a bag in his hand with clothes hanging out. He stood stunned for a moment, then moved to Grace’s side. Jared lay on the pavement with a cracked face, half-unconscious, pinned down by Grace. She had never felt this strong, this alive, and she had never felt such wild, animalistic joy in hurting someone.

“In my wildest dreams, I never thought I’d get the chance to pay you back so soon for what you did, you goddamn murderer,” Grace grinned, nothing human left in her face. She took Jared’s face in her two hands and looked him directly in the eyes.

“Say hello to death, Jared,” she whispered.

“Grace…” Diego began, but an animalistic growl tore from Grace’s throat. Diego raised his hands in surrender. “I was just going to say that everyone hates him, so I’m not gonna stop you. You can’t kill him any other way—you have to rip him apart and burn the pieces. And luckily, we have a pyre ready right over there!”

Jared began to writhe with all his might, trying to break free. Grace’s shield pressed him into the ground with irresistible force, and for the first time since becoming a vampire, Jared began to feel terror. He whimpered as his skin scraped against the gravel, looking at his executioner with immeasurable hatred.

“I should have killed you instantly,” he wheezed out.

“But you’re the type who can never resist dragging out the cruelty, aren’t you, Jared? Life always takes its revenge on types like you!” Grace looked at him with a blissful smile as Diego dropped the bag, walked over, and grabbed Jared’s arm. He ripped it from the socket while the shield—which Jared couldn’t see but could certainly feel—held him down like a helpless animal.

The man screamed, and by the second arm, he was shrieking. He stared at them, terrified and panting, lying helpless on the ground. As a vampire, he had felt like an absolute being, above everything and everyone. He had enjoyed the fact that he no longer had to plan his murders because the laws of physics no longer applied to him. He loved the knowledge that he could enjoy the game however he pleased because the victim’s chance of escape was zero. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder anymore; he didn’t have to sit in his car, hungry, waiting for his next prey. He did whatever he wanted, and with his supernatural hearing, he could savor every second and every movement of his victims’ agony. He loved the last, desperate flutter of their hearts the most. And then this rich, spoiled little bitch appeared, whose daddy handed her everything on a silver platter, and she ruined everything. To top it off, she turned out to be special. Jared hated Grace Sinclair in this moment more than he ever had in the last four days. More than anyone in the world.

He felt himself writhing on the ground under a woman in a way unworthy of a vampire, Grace’s hands on his face, squeezing with increasing strength. He felt the world tilt strangely, and then he couldn’t feel his body at all. Then Diego pressed a lighter into Grace’s hand, and Jared simply vanished into the nothingness from which he came.

A few days later, after Riley learned of the events—he brushed off Jared’s death with a shrug and a barely perceptible sense of relief—he gave Grace “The Talk.” Well, the Cullen-Talk. He didn’t care about Grace’s feelings; only the existence of the shield filled him with a sort of wild joy. His eyes measured the girl fanatically, urging her to practice using it. Then he disappeared for a few days, and upon returning, he carried around a red, sweet-smelling blouse and laid out the plan.

Grace shared her suspicion with Diego that this was a suicide mission. It was clear that Riley was becoming increasingly restless as the scale of the destruction grew, even though Diego, Bree, Grace, and another boy, Fred, tried to hunt in secret.

Like Grace, Diego suspected that Riley wasn’t afraid of the Cullen clan, but of someone far more powerful. Based on Bree’s account, Riley wasn’t the architect of the plan; he was just as much a pawn as they were. Diego and Bree wanted to run, as did Fred, and Grace decided there was absolutely no way she was taking orders from Riley Biers.

She chose a more chaotic night for her escape, when Riley was busy with the others, and slipped away quietly. She took off at full speed, the windy weather in her favor, masking her scent trail quickly.

Reaching the edge of the city, she saw the cloaked figures watching her. Standing among them was a boy about Grace’s age, and for a moment, when he locked eyes with her, the girl didn’t know which way was up.

“Going somewhere?”

[maevevolturi]

Temenos

My first ever story, and I'm not sure it's worth continuing so feedback is appreciated! It will be a bit darker kind of retelling of Twilight, the pairing is Alec x Grace. Alec will be aged up obv, and English is not my first language, so sorry for the mistakes in advance.

Mature content, MDNI!

ALEC X OC CHARACTER, He's coming in chapter 3

Warnings: Basically vampire behavior, Psychological trauma, death, murder, graphic descriptions of violence, dark themes. This chapter does not contain sexual themes, but the story will eventually. Aro Volturi should be his own warning too.

Chapter 1

Happy Death Day!

Grace woke up with a splitting headache. She slowly dragged herself out of her bed and, frowning and massaging her temples, stared out the bedroom window. Bellevue was shrouded in fog that morning. It was thick and heavy, like a wet woolen blanket. Down in front of the house, her father was pushing the trash can out in just a robe and waving to the neighbor. They were both shivering and didn’t chat for long. The sky was steel gray, and visibility was barely a few feet. The house stood at the end of a neat little street, and under normal circumstances, you could see Lake Washington from there. Grace had always loved this view, the way the white boats lazily bobbed in the harbor, but now she could see only the fog over the water, as it wrapped its cold fingers around the docks and crept between the houses, completely depriving the land of sunlight.

She wandered away from the window into her bathroom and set about reviving herself. She had no desire for the grand birthday party her mother had organized for that evening. Twenty-five invitations had been sent out, and Grace felt queasy at the thought of having to greet every single guest and strike up a conversation with them. Her parents had always let her get away with running up to her room with an armful of food whenever guests arrived, only to reappear once she saw their cars drive away. But she couldn’t do that at her own party, so she bitterly set about tidying her black curls. Her eyes were red from staying up late, her face was pale, and her lips were faint. She kind of liked it that way because she had always been fascinated by slightly gloomy things, even if it meant it was her. Grace loved living in the Pacific Northwest; she loved the rain, the gray clouds, and more than once, she lay in her bed, listening to music, and actually giggling and kicking her feet when it started to rain.

Her mother kept saying she should “grow up” and “get out of her room and meet people”, said things that made Grace feel less and less whimsical. It made her think Dawn was trying to kill her inner child on purpose with all the micromanaging. Slowly, but steadily, her relationship with her mother started to get worse, more tense. They loved each other, but things were getting out of control, the more Dawn tried to maintain said control. Grace didn’t understand why she was doing this to her; she was not irresponsible; she was independent, she had goals she was working really hard for.

She pulled on her favorite bone colored skirt and a dark blue blouse, then hurried down to the kitchen for breakfast. The TV was playing softly in the kitchen, and her mother was just walking into the dining room with a full plate. After greeting her daughter with a warm smile, she sat down and began her breakfast. Scattered across the table around her were the blueprints for a new, minimalist steel structure. She had spent long months working on this building, and although Dawn loved her husband and daughter, she paid far more attention to architecture than to her own family members.

“Another one,” came William Sinclair’s voice from beside the coffee maker.

Grace looked at her father, who was now standing in the kitchen in an immaculate suit, stirring his coffee with a gloomy expression as he watched the TV. Will worked as a King County district attorney. His voice was tired and dry, like the reports he read late into the night in the solitude of his office.

“The police are helpless, Gracie. It’s as if these people vanish into thin air on the streets of Seattle. There’s no connection between the victims other than the fact that they come from the lower-middle class or live in extreme poverty. Some are homeless or runaway teenagers. But beyond that, nothing—no race, no age, no occupation, no gender. They have no connection to any underworld activity or cult. We can say they’re being taken out almost indiscriminately.

“Are you saying the suspect is a serial killer?” Grace asked, looking up from the news.

“I can’t see what else could be behind this. I really don’t like this. Something’s very wrong over there. Please, take care of yourself. You mentioned you have to swing by Seattle after school today.”

“Yeah, I bid on an original 1993 British edition Slowdive CD online. I’m meeting the girl at a café in Seattle; I’ll pick it up from her after school,” Grace replied, taking a mug out of the cupboard to make herself a coffee.

“All right, but hurry home! You need to get ready in time to welcome the guests.”

Grace’s face twisted into a pained grimace, and she released a slow, heavy breath as the aroma of hot coffee filled the kitchen. Will smiled. He knew this party was more for his wife than for Grace, who, if she could, would become one with the moss in the forest or a cloud in the sky, just so no one would bother her. She really had the talent to keep people away from herself.

“Just one night, and you’ll be done with it! Cheer up, old girl!” He grinned, then, leaving his indignant daughter standing there, joined his wife in the dining room.

The small indie café where she’d agreed to meet the girl was in South of Downtown. Grace stepped out onto the street, nearly jumping from joy an hour and a half later, clutching the CD case. She’d been hunting for the British edition online for weeks, and now it was finally hers. It was getting late because the CD’s owner, who introduced herself as Vivian, turned out to be a great conversationalist. They spent a long time discussing each other’s musical tastes, the mutual acquaintances they’d discovered in the meantime, and school, and were just about to order another drink when Grace remembered her plans for the evening and realized she was running very late. She said goodbye to Vivian hastily, and after paying for the CD and the bill, dashed out onto the street, promising to email her the next day.

She found a parking spot only a short distance away, but by then it had grown dark, and the fog was only getting thicker. Grace walked toward the parking lot with tense attention, the line of cars snaking and standing still on the road beside her. She was already grinding her teeth at the thought of the traffic jam and the scolding her mother would unleash on her at home for being late. She hated it anyway when she had to go home in the dark. The morning news and her father’s tense words echoed in her head, and she quickened her pace even more.

“Miss, please stop!” A stern, polite female voice called out. Grace caught sight of a police officer who was blocking her path with one arm outstretched.

“What happened?”

“Accident. Four cars collided due to the fog. We have to divert pedestrian traffic, too, I’m sorry.”

“But my car’s over there! How am I supposed to get home like this?” Grace’s chest tightened, and she stared into the fog with her blue eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the parking lot, even though it was still far away.

“I’m very sorry, but I can’t let you go any further this way. Head toward the warehouses; you’ll get back to the parking lot at the next corner, “ replied the policewoman, trying to smile reassuringly.

Grace was definitely panicking now, though she tried not to show it. Her mother had drummed the importance of inner composure into her head her whole life, so she tried to take deep breaths.

“All right, thank you,” she replied, and with trembling knees, she set off in the direction the policewoman had indicated.

The lighting between the warehouses was of almost no help in the thick fog. The salty scent of the sea filled Grace’s nose, and she didn’t want to admit it, but she was terrified. Because of the fog, she could barely see which narrow alley she could turn into to get back on her original route, and in the flickering light of the sodium lamps, every shadow made her stomach clench even tighter. Her heart was pounding in her throat, and she could barely hear the slow, heavy crash of the waves in the harbor. Grace felt as if cold water were sloshing around in her stomach, and her chest was being squeezed by a press—she was on the verge of tears. So she took a deep breath, lifted her head, and, forcing herself to appear confident, kept walking. She barely heard that strange little noise not far away, slightly to her left. The sound came from the direction of the sea, and every instinct in Grace told her to ignore it and keep going. She finally set off, but after a few steps, she heard that strange little sound again.

Get out of here, don’t stop. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop. Come on, right, left, right, left, don’t listen to it, get out of here right now. You’re almost there, just a few meters!

Again. This time, the noise sounded a little closer, and Grace felt it deep down that if she kept going, she’d make it out to the parking lot. But the sound came again. It might have been a little squeak or a fading groan, and she couldn’t even tell what it was. Or rather, she didn’t want to know. Yet a part of her mind, buried deep beneath the comforts of city life, knew exactly what it was. A dying person. Grace felt she would faint if she couldn’t get away from there, but she couldn’t leave someone in need behind. Every cell in her body screamed for her to run, and she needed every ounce of her willpower to stay anchored to her spot.

“Hello…” she whispered into the darkness.

“Hello,” the darkness whispered back.

Grace’s heart skipped a beat, or stopped altogether for a moment. Air caught in her lungs, then her heart gave such a violent lurch that her vision simply snuffed out. For a heartbeat, there was nothing but a void—a total, suffocating blindness. Then she gasped for air and, summoning all her strength, she bolted. Tears stung her eyes again, and her bag slapped against her back as she flew between the warehouses back toward the safely lit streets. Then she slammed into something that felt as unyielding as a granite pillar and bounced off it.

She fell flat on her back, her skull cracking on the pavement. A man was standing over her, right where there had been nothing but an empty street just a moment ago. In a split second, he was looming over Grace, grinning down at her with predatory delight.

“You little idiot. I would’ve let you run, but that jerk wouldn’t stop growling, and you had to play the hero. Silly girl. Haven’t you heard the news lately?” he cackled.

Grace saw stars, her head was splitting, and she felt as if she’d just run full speed into a wall. Her hand was bleeding, and judging by the pain, her right wrist was broken. She looked up, gasping, at the figure towering over her. Even in the dim lamplight, she could see that his eyes were bright red and his skin chalk-white. He radiated something animalistic, predatory, and something else entirely that had to do with his character. It was as if he weren’t quite in his right mind. He stared at Grace’s bleeding hand as if he’d love nothing more than to twist it off her wrist.

“Leave me alone,” Grace rasped and tried to stand up, but the man just gave a cold chuckle and kicked her in the ribs. Grace doubled over, gasping for air.

“Stay on the ground, it’ll hurt less that way! We wouldn’t want the police to hear how much fun we’re having here, would we?” he laughed, spreading his arms wide as he moved toward the girl kneeling on the ground.

He wanted to hit her, to swat her like a bug. It would have taken just one blow, and Grace Sinclair would never have taken another breath. But a dark, seething hatred coursed through Grace as she stared at the man from behind her hair. As he walked toward her, Grace shouted at him.

“I told you not to touch me, you animal!”

The man’s hand froze in midair, and he staggered backward. His eyes widened, and he was just as surprised as Grace herself. Then his handsome face contorted with wild rage, and in the blink of an eye, he clamped his iron grip around the entire lower half of her face. Grace could barely breathe as her jaw snapped with a terrible crack. She couldn’t scream because the man had clamped his hand over her mouth. Tears streamed down her face, and her heart pounded so violently it nearly burst from her chest. She began to struggle desperately, but the strength of his grip was indescribable. No matter how much she kicked, it only made her broken bones hurt even more, and the man’s face seemed happier with every drop of her tears.

“So how did you manage that, hm?” He yanked his victim by the head like a rag doll. He scrutinized her face with his red-glowing eyes, digging his fingers into her soft skin.

Grace saw stars and began to lose consciousness. Her head was throbbing, she felt nauseous, and she could feel blood flowing out of her ears and nose. A basilar skull fracture, she thought. She was going to die. Just a moment ago, when she’d bounced off her attacker, she’d slammed her head really hard against his chest and the concrete when she fell back. The man shook her again.

“What were you doing just now, you little witch?!” he yelled in her face.

If only I knew, you asshole. I’d do it again, Grace thought, and felt the world grow even darker.

"Won't answer? Alright. Then say hello to death, little girl!" He whispered with a smile on his face.

“Enough, Jared.”

A blond man stood in the fog with his arms crossed, watching them. Grace looked at him desperately, but the man paid her no mind. He was looking at Jared, who was glaring at him furiously.

“Get away from here, Riley, she’s mine!”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Jared. I specifically forbade the lot of you from hunting here. So clean up after yourself if you want to live - let her go.

“Why? Her brain fluid is leaking. She’s going to die either way,” Jared gave a nonchalant shrug, his iron grip never wavering.

“No, she won’t,” Riley replied flatly. Jared’s eyes flashed with a sudden, dangerous realization.

“You’re going to turn her?!”

Grace was certain she’d heard wrong. Why would a stranger want to turn her—bite her—in a fog-choked harbor, while she was dying? It was a hallucination, a cruel trick of her fading brain.

“She’s special. You felt it too, didn’t you? It’s rare to find a human in whom it manifests so strongly. I won’t say it again, Jared. Let her go, or I’ll rip you limb from limb. We need her for the mission. That is your sole reason for existing.”

Jared finally recoiled. Grace hit the ground, curling into a ball, gasping for air that felt like needles in her lungs. Riley approached her, tilting her head back with a clinical, detached gentleness. For a heartbeat, their eyes locked—vivid blue into a predatory red—and then, in a blur of movement, Grace felt a searing, jagged pain.

Will this never end?

She thought of her parents. Her mother in that spring-green dress, hands trembling as she peered through the window; her father pacing the rug, checking his watch. The guests were arriving, the birthday candles were ready to be lit, but Grace was miles away, dissolving.

A wave of molten fire surged through her veins. It wasn't just heat; it was as if her blood had been replaced with liquid lead. She tried to scream, but her jaw was a mess of agony, and Riley shoved a coarse rag into her mouth to stifle the sound. She wasn't Grace anymore. She wasn't a person. She was only the pain.

Riley lifted her with effortless strength, keeping her head steady. He couldn’t afford to let her neck dangle; she had to survive long enough for the venom to mend what Jared had broken. He let his gaze rake over her, noting the stark contrast between the grime of the docks and her exquisite attire. She wasn’t just some street kid; her clothes were tailored, her skin unblemished. She was beautiful—for a creature of such fragile biology.

Riley huffed, a low growl of annoyance escaping his chest. Someone will look for her. In fact, half of Seattle would likely be out for blood once the news got filled with her pictures. Hiding her would be a logistical nightmare, and the realization that this was another mess to mop up because of Jared made his jaw tighten. The girl was a jackpot, yes, but why did it always have to be that arrogant prick who dragged him into these complications?

Speaking of the prick, Riley looked up to ensure Jared was actually finishing the job. He watched the newborn drain the last of the blood from the victim before shredding the man’s abdomen with clinical indifference. With a sickening squelch, Jared deflated the lungs with his bare hands.

“It won’t float up now,” Jared said with a casual shrug, before tossing the lifeless husk several yards into the murky ocean.

Riley almost asked how the hell he knew such things, but the words died in his throat. Jared was unsettling. It wasn't fear, but a deep-seated instinct that the less they spoke, the better. Jared had been a liability from day one—a constant, exhausting drain on Riley’s patience. He was the instigator, the one who stoked the fires of the others' worst impulses, leaving Riley to play the part of the frantic handler, barking orders and erasing trails before the authorities could close in.

He’d done an impeccable job so far, but he was reaching his breaking point. He wasn’t a commander of an army; he felt like a fucked-up nanny for monsters. But surely, Victoria knew what she was doing, so Riley just took a deep, unnecessary breath to calm his nerves.

“Let’s head back. The others are getting restless, and I’m done for the day, cleaning up after you lot. Seriously, Jared, you should start behaving before we get noticed by someone who won’t be as forgiving.”

Riley didn't wait for the burning to subside; he knew the fire would take days to consume what remained of her humanity. The blood stopped flowing out of her ears and nose, so he figured she would be safe to move around now. He carefully slung her over his shoulder—a dead weight that would soon become harder than marble.

As he moved through the shadows of the warehouses, he felt the rhythmic tremors racking her body. To Grace, it was an inferno; to Riley, it was just the sound of a new weapon being forged. He kept his pace steady, his mind already miles away, calculating. He had to cross the city without being seen, avoiding the cameras and the late-night patrols that were surely already looking for the missing girl of a seemingly wealthy family.

Every time Grace’s hand brushed against his back, she left a trail of scorching heat. It was a reminder of the liability he was carrying. Jared followed a few paces behind, humming a dark, mindless tune, seemingly oblivious to the gravity of what he’d done. Riley felt a cold, sharp urge to drop the girl and tear Jared’s head off right there, but Victoria’s face flashed in his mind.

Patience, he told himself, though the word felt like ash in his mouth. The girl is a jackpot. She just needs to survive the fire.