The hour was late, but Santiago lingered within the great hall until all the lesser guards had left. One by one, they strode out of the room, and one by one, each of the doors slammed shut, leaving the hall in complete silence. Then, only when he was certain he wouldn't be disturbed, Santiago undid the top buttons of his long, black coat, allowing a white collar to peek through the opening. From his pocket he pulled out his rosary and knelt beside the pile of ash.
"Eternal rest, grant unto them, O Lord," whispered Santiago, "and let perpetual light shine upon them. May the souls of the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace." He waved his hand over the ashes, performing the sign of the cross. "In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."
The solemn silence was interrupted by Heidi's heels rapping against the stone. The mahogany-haired beauty had slipped into the hall during his prayer, but she was respectful enough not to speak until he was finished. She was one of the few who still respected his traditions. Everyone else urged him to abandon them.
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," said Heidi with a playful smirk. "It has been three hundred years since my last confession. But tell me, Father, even though I bear no soul, should I still fear damnation like my good mother taught me?"
"Perhaps we are already damned," answered Santiago as he climbed to his feet and buttoned his coat once more.
"You are such a pessimist, Santiago. You always have been. Honestly, I don't know how you became a priest with that attitude."
"I'm not a priest, technically. Unfortunately, I was unable to finish my studies due to my affliction."
A brief moment of indiscretion, Santiago called it. It was the turn of the 15th century, and Santiago, a strapping young man of twenty-eight, was well into his fourth year of study at the monastery. It had always been his dream to enter the priesthood and devote his life to God, and not once had he faltered in his resolve.
But then he met her.
She was such a pretty little thing, blonde haired and blue eyed, fragile and timid like a glass doll. On rainy nights, she could be found dancing barefoot around the village square in nothing but a blue underdress. An orphaned child from a strange foreign land, they thought she was, for she spoke in strange tongues, if she said anything at all. Mostly, she just giggled and hummed to herself and went on her way.
But on this particular night, when Santiago crossed her path, she stopped her dancing and looked right at him with a curious expression: innocent and childlike.
"Do you have family?" Santiago felt compelled to ask. "A warm place to sleep? A child like you should not be out in this late hour. The cold, damp air will make you sick."
"Sick?" replied the girl, like she had never heard the word before.
"Yes, sick. Now, tell me where you live, and I will see you home."
"I live nowhere." Her pink lips curled into a toothy grin. "And I live everywhere."
Santiago's brow furrowed in confusion. "You cannot live everywhere. No more games, child. If you have no home, I can take you to the church."
"Church? What is church? Is it a house?"
"In a way, yes. It is a house of God, a house of worship and prayer."
"God?" She suppressed a giggle with her pale, petite hand. "Would you like to hear a secret?" she asked, and then she made a beckoning motion with her fingers. "Come, come," she had to say before Santiago did as she asked and stooped down to her level.
"Ready?" she said, and after he nodded, she leaned in close and whispered into his ear, "There is no God."
Even now, Santiago could still remember the pain he felt when her teeth, tiny but sharp as daggers, pierced the flesh of his neck. He never saw it coming. He never expected a child to be capable of such evil. And after she'd had her fill of his blood, she said nothing to him, nothing at all. She left him there to die and then skipped off again, humming the same song she always hummed.
"Well," Heidi replied, "for what it's worth, I think you would have made a terrible priest."
Santiago chuckled. "Yes, I suppose I would have."
"I came to ask for a favor," Heidi finally admitted, "and I know only you would ever agree to it."
"What favor is that, Heidi? You're not one to ask for help."
"I need you to watch over the girl, Dahlia. She has already attracted some unwanted attention. Felix and Demetri worry me the most. You know how they are."
"Insatiable."
"Yes. If they have it their way, she will be dead by the week's end, and I can't have that. I have spent too much time and money grooming her."
"And you have done an excellent job, as always. Still, this one seems different from the others."
"She's dimmer than the others, if that's what you mean, but she's obedient, and that is a rare commodity nowadays. I would like to keep her around for as long as possible, so that's why I'm asking you to keep an eye on her, if you would be so kind."
"Very well, Heidi, I'll do as you ask. However, you mustn't hold me responsible should anything happen to her. You have brought her to a very dangerous place, after all."
"You shall remain blameless, I promise," Heidi said, and then she and Santiago exited the great hall together.
Moments later, Jane crept down from the gallery, where she had been hiding since Constantine's trial ended. She'd watched the arguments of her colleagues with mild interest, and she was quite disappointed when Demetri failed to kill Antony for insulting him. She would have liked a good fight, as it had been ages since she'd seen any action herself. Aro protected her like she was his daughter, seldom sending her on missions no matter how much she begged. Her only pleasure came when he asked her to torture someone for information, but those instances were rare.
Like a child locked away in her bedroom, Jane was quickly becoming restless.
She knelt beside the pile of ash and started drawing random shapes in the dust with her finger: stars, circles, squares, even little hearts. She was just finishing a large heart when Demetri entered the hall.
"What are you doing?" he said. "Get away from there!"
Jane ceased her drawing. "Why?" she asked. "He can't feel anything anymore. He's dead." When Demetri got close enough, she grabbed a handful of dust and blew it right in his face. "Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust."
Demetri's red eyes burned with anger, making Jane giggle, and that sent Demetri into a mad rage. He seized the girl by her throat and lifted her clear off the ground. Kicking her legs and clawing at his hands, Jane struggled to free herself to no avail.
"It seems you're out of practice, Jane," Demetri said, and then he squeezed her throat even tighter. As he held her, he wondered how long it would take before her head popped right off her body.
Jane's wide eyes narrowed, and she envisioned a flame igniting from her throat and scorching Demetri's fingers, but still he did not release her. In fact, his face showed not even the slightest tinge of pain.
"Let's see who can endure the most pain," he challenged, crushing her throat with his fist. Jane started to whimper. Already, she could feel her skin beginning to tear and separate. If he squeezed any harder ...
"Demetri," said Aro from the doorway, his voice calm but authoritative, "release her, please."
At once, Demetri loosened his grip, and Jane fell to the ground, clutching her broken throat, which had already started to mend itself.
"That was not very gentlemanlike, Demetri," Aro went on, placing a firm gaze upon the younger man. "I expect more from you."
"Forgive me, Master. I lost my temper. It won't happen again."
"Let's hope not." Then he turned his attention to Jane, who was starting to pick herself up from the ground. "And Jane, what have we talked about?"
"Respect the dead," Jane recited from memory. "Don't play with them."
"Very good. We must all work harder to control ourselves, mustn't we?"
"Yes, Master," they agreed.
Aro smiled like a proud father. "Excellent," he said, and then he dismissed them both and withdrew to his chambers.
Demetri was the first to leave, and upon exiting, he passed Alec, Jane's twin brother, who had undoubtedly witnessed their heated exchange. He liked to watch, to skulk around in the shadows, watching and listening but never speaking. He was worse than Jane in that sense. At least they knew when she was angry. Alec, on the other hand, was impossible to read, even for Aro.
"What do you want?" Demetri asked Alec, who stared openly at him.
"Nothing," replied Alec, his face as expressionless as a piece of stone, and then he walked away.
I hate kids, thought Demetri as he continued out the door. Down the hall he walked, trying to rid himself of his anger. Even he had to admit that he'd acted unfavorably with Jane, and with Dahlia as well, though he would never admit to the latter. He could practically see Constantine shaking his head, wherever the fool was.
"I fear I will always be a disappointment to you," Demetri said with a smile. "And I would be lying if I said I cared."
Suddenly, the elevator doors opened, though not by Demetri's action. Inside the car stood Nicolas Distefano, his eyes bloodshot and his breath reeking of alcohol. As soon as Demetri saw him, he rushed into the elevator and slammed Nicolas back against the wall so hard he left a dent in the steel.
"What do you think you're doing?" said Demetri.
"Where's Adrianna?" Nicolas asked, his eyes ablaze with determination. "I know you did something to her. Tell me where she is!"
Chuckling deeply, Demetri released the man. "You want to know where she is? Fine, I'll tell you."