“No,” I gasped. I heard myself that time, so I knew I’d done it right.
“You don’t have to make any more decisions now. There’s time for that. Just know that I will respect any decision you make.” She took another deep breath. “I should probably warn you about your eyes. They won’t be blue anymore.” Another half-sob. “But don’t let them frighten you. They won’t stay so bright for long.
“I suppose that’s a very small thing, though.… I should focus on the most important things. The hard things—the very worst thing. Oh, I’m so sorry, Beau. You can’t see your father or mother again. It’s not safe. You would hurt them—you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. And… there are rules. Rules that, as your creator, I’m bound by. We’d both be held responsible if you ran out of control. Oh—” Her breath caught. “There’s so much he doesn’t know, Archie.”
“We’ve got time, Edythe. Just relax. Take it slow.”
I heard her inhale again.
“The rules,” she said. “One rule with a thousand different permutations—the reality of vampires must be kept secret. That means newborn vampires must be controlled. I will teach you—I’ll keep you safe, I promise.” Another sigh. “And you can’t tell anyone what you are. I broke that rule. I didn’t think it could hurt you—that anyone would ever find out. I should have known that just being near you would eventually destroy you. I should have known I would ruin your life—that I was lying to myself about any other path being possible. I’ve done everything wrong—”
“You’re letting self-castigation get in the way of information again, Edythe.”
“Right, right.” A deep breath. “Beau. Do you remember the painting in Carine’s study—the nighttime patrons of the arts I told you about? They’re called the Volturi—they are… for the lack of a better word, the police of our world. I’ll tell you more about them in a bit—you just need to know that they exist, so that I can explain why you can’t tell Charlie or your mother where you are. You can’t talk to them again, Beau.” Her voice was straining higher, like it was about to fracture. “It’s best… we don’t have much choice but to let them think you’re dead. I’m so sorry. You didn’t even get to say goodbye. It’s not fair!”
There was a long pause while I could hear her breath hitching.
“Why don’t you go back to the Volturi?” Archie suggested. “Keep emotion out of it.”
“You’re right,” she repeated in a whisper. “Ready to learn a new world history, Beau?”
She talked all night without a break, until the sun came up and I could see her face again. She told me stories that sounded like dark fairy tales. I was beginning to grasp the edges of how big this world was, but I knew it would be a long time before I totally comprehended the size of it.
She told me about the people I’d seen in the painting with Carine—the Volturi. How they’d joined forces during the Mycenaean age, and begun a millennia-long campaign to create peace and order in the vampire world. How there had been six of them in the beginning. How betrayal and murder had cut them in half. Someone named Aro had murdered his sister—his best friend’s wife. The best friend was Marcus—he was the man I’d seen standing with Carine. Aro’s own wife—Sulpicia, the one with all the masses of dark hair in the painting—had been the only witness. She’d turned him over to Marcus and their soldiers. There had been some question of what to do—Aro had a very powerful extra gift, like what Edythe had, but more, she said—and the Volturi weren’t sure they’d be able to succeed without him. But Sulpicia searched out a young girl—Mele, the one Edythe had called a servant and a thief—who had a gift of her own. She could absorb another vampire’s gift. She couldn’t use that stolen gift herself, but she could give it to someone else who she was touching. Sulpicia had Mele take Aro’s gift, and then Marcus executed him. Once she had her husband’s gift, Sulpicia found out that the third man in their group was in on the plot. He was executed, too, and his wife—Athenodora—joined with Sulpicia and Marcus to lead their soldiers. They overthrew the vampires who terrorized Europe, and then the ones who enslaved Egypt. Once they were in charge, they made regulations that kept the vampire world hidden and safe.
I listened as much as I could. It wasn’t a distraction from the pain—there was no escape. But it was better to think about than the fire.
Edythe said the Volturi were the ones who’d made up all the stories about crosses and holy water and mirrors. Over the centuries, they made all reports of vampires into myth. And now they continued to keep it that way. Vampires would stay in the shadows… or there would be consequences.
So I couldn’t go to my dad’s house and let him see the eyes that Edythe said would be bright. I couldn’t drive to Florida and hug my mom and let her know that I wasn’t dead. I couldn’t even call her and explain the confusing message I’d left on her answering machine. If there was anything in the news, if any rumor spread that something unnatural was involved, the Volturi soldiers might come to investigate.
I had to disappear quietly.
The fire hurt more than hearing these things. But I knew that wouldn’t always be the way it was. Soon, this would hurt the most.