AD FINEM

Summary: Latin for "to the end". "A doppleganger," Caius sneers. "What will you do with her?" "She'll be my wife, again." Marcus proclaims. 25 years after BD, one girl could be the Volturi's downfall. Love will save some, love will destroy some. A good old revenge fic.

Author's Notes/All Disclaimers:

WARNINGS: This story includes mentions/implications/descriptions of: rape, mass murder, domestic violence, and consensual sex. Story also has cursing, character death, and criticisms of religion. If such topics offend or trigger you, please do not read or read with caution. There will not be warnings inside the chapter of when these topics come up.

Disclaimer: I am not Stephanie Meyer and don't own Twilight. Duh.

Changes from the book: I have taken several liberties with the characteristics of the characters and the biology of vampires. For instance, vampires do not have uncontrollable blood lust anytime they see or smell blood. After the first year, control becomes much easier and vampires can even take hours to drain a kill (if they wish). Also, I've decided not to make older vampires like Aro and the Volturi as weak and mummified as the books suggested. In my world, they are just as active and have the same traits (perfect skin, inhumanly beautiful) as younger vampires. Another example is the fact that sleeping with human girls is not, nor was it ever, considered deviant by vampires. But it is still strange to form a romantic relationship with one. Other changes have been made, but they should all be explained (or at least mentioned) in the story.

Updates: I have no promise on when I will update. I will try to do so semi-regularly and I promise to eventually finish this. Please do review; I hope to either be able to answer questions or tease the reviewer with hints about the next chapter. I also don't have a Beta or an editor, so I apologize for any typos that I missed.

"We are not Challenging the Volturi." –– Carlisle Cullen, Olympia Coven, Breaking Dawn, page 626

" If there is any chance [the Vulturi] will fail, we will be here to see it." –– Stefan, Romanian Coven, Breaking Dawn, page 626

"It's time our world saw the Volturi for what they've become. They'll never fall if everyone believes this nonsense about them protecting our way of life." –– Stefan, Romanian Coven, Breaking Dawn, page 658

"If we can just cripple them, even, expose them…." –– Stefan, Romanian Coven, Breaking Dawn, page 659

"We believe the Volturi will overstep their authority. We have no wish to belong to them." –– Tia, Egyptian Coven, Breaking Dawn, page 659

"This won't be the first time I fought to keep myself from a king's rule. Here's to freedom from oppression." –– Garret, Nomad, Breaking Dawn, page 659

"These ancients ones did not come here for justice as they told you…. The Volturi come to erase what they perceive as the competition…. Are the Volturi here to protect the safety of our secrecy, or to protect their own power?... Their guard is just a mindless weapon, a tool in their masters' quest for domination…. Are you free to choose your path, or will the Volturi decide how you will live?... They seek death or our free will… Perhaps the Volturi have finally met their match…." Garrett, Nomad, Breaking Dawn, page 717-719

"Revolutionary? Who am I revolting against, might I ask? Are you my king? Do you wish me to call you master, too, like your sycophantic guard?"-Garrett, Nomad, Breaking Dawn, page 719.

"The Volturi won't forgive what happened here." –– Siobhan, Irish Coven, Breaking Dawn, page 743

"Perhaps the time will come when our world is ready to be free of the Volturi altogether." –– Siobhan, Irish Coven, Breaking Dawn, page 743

The time has come.

Part One, Chapter One: Meeting (Demi1)

P1. Ch1: Meeting (Demi1)

"Signorina?"

Demi looks up from her book. Several feet in front of her, standing shoulder to shoulder and wearing crisp, blue suits, are two men. The one on the left is taller and slimmer than his short and round partner on the right.

Demi regards them for a moment, inspecting their blue uniforms decorated with medals and symbols; they must be dying in those stuffy suits in this August heat!

"Polizia."

"Oh." Demi furrows her eyebrows. What do they want with me?

Perhaps it is the late hour of the night (or early hour of the morning) that make them question her; it is well past 1 A.M., and she's the last person sitting around the grand fountain in the middle of the town square.

She hadn't even noticed that it had become so late. There are a string of lights around the bench she is sitting on, and the moon is full and bright above her, giving her plenty of light to read the book she had picked up at a small bookstore in town earlier that afternoon. Demi had felt safe—still feels safe—sitting on a bench in a foreign city late into the warm, summer night, as Volterra is known for its lack of crime.

That's what they'll tell me, she thinks; It's past curfew, although none of my guide books ever mentioned such a restriction.

"Sì?" she asks hesitantly. Demi knows about as much Italian as the average American, that is, absolutely none. The portly policeman shifts from side to side, as if nervous.

"La prego quindi di venire con noi, signorina? Come with us?" The tall one asks first in fast Italian, but adds the English quickly after. He extends a hand to her and Demi stares at the duo for a few moments.

She does not doubt their position as real Volterra officers; the city emblem is displayed proudly in the center of their uniforms, and tasers are mounted firmly on each policeman's hip. Demi doesn't see any guns, but then again: why would they need one? Volterra consistently gets awards for low crime rate and safety. These men don't see much action.

"Oh, uhh…sure. Sì." Demi does not pause to consider where they might be taking her. She doesn't want to make any trouble. Both her father and his father before him were cops, and Demi not only respects police officers, she trusts them without question.

Demi quickly stuffs her book into her large tote bag and takes the hand. Just as she is about to pull the bag over her shoulder, the short one grabs on to it and offers to carry it for her. She smiles appreciatively at him and allows him to place her in between himself and his partner. The tall one's hand is clammy and uncomfortable. His sweat sticks against her palm. She wiggles her fingers, trying to pull them out, but he holds them tightly.

"Umm…" she hedges as they start walking away from the town center, "where…" She struggles to think of words in Italian, but the tall one saves her.

"La stazione. Va bene, signorina." He responds kindly as they quickly lead her through the streets. La stazione, Demi mulls over his words, even I can understand that.

The farther the trio travel from the square, the darker it gets. Without her guidebook open or any light, Demi is soon completely lost. The men say they are taking her to the police station, but after ten minutes of silence, they stand in front of the castle gates instead.

Demi had seen the castle earlier that day when she was roaming around the streets. According to her tour book, Castello Volterra began construction in the year 900 B.C, but it took centuries before it's final and current form would be completed. The castle was what the City of Volterra was built around, as the grand structure compelled farmers to move closer to its safe walls, and as the years passed, the city grew and the walls expanded to its current size. While Volterra as a city might still be relatively small and unknown, the castle has a long and proud history.

It looks old only in its architecture and grandeur, as it is in surprisingly good condition. Demi's guidebook mentioned that the castle has gone through multiple renovations and expansions from the original structure, but even the newest additions are still hundreds of years old.

The tour book also said it is privately owned, and while no one currently resides in the castle, the owners open it up to specific tour groups upon request. In fact, Demi had seen one of those groups walk through the gates earlier today. The castle is magnificent to look at from the outside alone, and Demi had wondered how the inside compared. Apparently, the castle brought in a lot of the tourism Volterra thrived on.

There are some light posts placed along the sidewalk, but they barely illuminate the space around them, and shed no light on the inner courtyard somewhat visible behind the thick iron bars of the fence and the tall steel gate that stops anyone from entering the castle's grounds.

Demi looks around but sees no other buildings nearby, and definitely no police stations. Warning bells go off in her head. "La stazione polizia?" She questions. Suddenly, the gates begin to slowly creak open, as if someone heard her question.

"Sì, la stazione." The tall man tries to comfort her but she doesn't believe him. Panic takes hold of her and she once again tries to pull her hand out of his grip, but they are so close to the open gates that it does her little good.

Together, the two policemen shove her through the small opening and quickly follow after her. As soon as they are past the big black gates and into the small courtyard, the gates slam shut. The noise causes the men to whip around in fear and Demi does the same, her back now toward the castle.

Two men stand on either side of the closed gates, almost completely covered in blackness. It's even darker here with the castle's shadow casting along the courtyard, and the weak light of the lamp posts are completely shut out by the fence and gate. But from what Demi can tell from their outline, the two men are much bigger than the policemen who escorted her here. As the men step forward, and her eyes adjust to the lack of light, Demi lets out a frightened gasp.

One man is absolutely huge. He must be closer to seven feet than to six feet, and he completely towers over her, the policemen, and even his partner. And the last point is a true testament to his size, as his friend is by no stretch of the imagination small. Built more slim and lean than like the bodybuilder to his right, the other man is tall and broad in the shoulders as well. Both men are wearing black coats and black gloves which contrast with their pale skin. In fact, their faces are the only part of their skin visible, and they are so pale they seem to glow in the darkness.

The policemen are backing away from Demi as the new men advance forward. Demi hears, rather than sees, the short policeman drop her bag on the cobblestone.

Demi can't take her eyes of off the new men's faces long enough to run. It's very dark outside, in the shadow of the castle, but she can make out their chiseled features and their eyes…they are vivid and bright. They glow in the night and almost seem…red?

"We bring you her." The tall policeman stumbles out from behind Demi. His voice is small and cracks on the last word out of fright, nothing like the commanding tone he used to lure Demi towards the castle. His English is broken and his accent makes it almost impossible to understand his words. Demi herself can barely hear him but the new men seem to have no trouble.

"Yes, I can see that," the smaller of the men says, condescendingly. His friend smirks beside him. It's at this moment that Demi falls out of her calm and silent state.

"What's going on?" She finally cries out.

The new men are closing in fast and her legs feel like lead. By the time she realizes she needs to run, it is too late. A hand shoots out and as the glove tightens around her arm she hears the sound of leather creaking. Demi flinches in alarm, jerking away desperately. But it's the big man that holds her tightly, and she knows there is no way she'll be able to wiggle out of his grasp. She opens her mouth to scream when another big, black-leathered hand clamps itself over her mouth. She struggles earnestly against the man but he is not fazed at all.

"Take care of them," the man commands his smaller partner.

Although there is no verbal reply, as the man drags Demi closer to the castle, she turns her head back in time to see and hear the smaller man snap the fat policeman's neck.

Demi has never understood the saying 'blood turns cold', until this exact moment. Her stomach drops, and it feels like someone is injecting ice water into her veins. She can feel the adrenaline kicking in full force, and she twists and bucks in the man's hold. Terror grips her around her throat, and her legs feel both light and heavy at the same time. Tingles shoot down her spine and her heart hammers in her chest, filling her ears with the sound of its frantic beating.

Oh. My. God. Behind the hand, she screams and she does not stop. Even as she morbidly watches the smaller man stalk the tall policeman, she does not stop her screams. They all come out muffled and she—strangely removed from her situation—bets that they don't reach anything beyond the steel gates of the courtyard.

She turns her head away before she can see the actual murder, but nothing, not even her screams, can block out the echoes of a neck snapping and a dead body sagging against the ground.

These men are murders. I'm going to die. They're going to kill me. Oh my God.

She is sobbing hysterically now, and she wiggles as much as she can in the giant's arms. She swears she can still hear the crunch of bones. The echoic trace still rings in her ears and she can't escape it.

Demi digs her heels into the ground, squeezes her eyes shut and desperately prays to whatever mystic figure is up in the sky to save her. When she opens her eyes again, her situation has not changed in the slightest, except that now she and her captor have reached the doors to the castle.

They are large, metal black doors that stretch insanely high and impressively wide. The man holding her bangs twice and the sound vibrates in the open air of the courtyard. Instead of overcoming the sound of the neck breaking, it serves to strengthen the echo in her mind and she is so convinced that the sound is real—that someone's neck is being snapped right now—that she looks behind her.

But instead of seeing the smaller partner murdering another person, she sees him dragging the two policemen's corpses, face-down across the stone of the courtyard. This image is almost as horrific as their deaths. She can't see their lifeless faces—thank God—but she can just make out the twisted angle of their necks. And what's that? Could that be their—NO! Oh God, it is! It's the bone! Holy shit!

As she watches him close the distance between himself and his partner, he pauses next to Demi's discarded large, shoulder bag. He bends his knees and, still grasping the tall one's ankle in his right hand, curls his finger-tips around the bag's strap, balancing it on the pads of his fingers as he advances.

Demi turns back to face the imposing doors of the castle. She has stopped screaming, but her cries are no less violent.

What do they want with me? What are they going to do? They're going to kill me. I'm going to die. And then Demi conjures the image of her mother's tear-stained face. Worse, she thinks. They're going to rape me. They're going to sell me into sex slavery.

If possible, her panic increases. Her mother had always been very open to Demi about the horrors she had faced. Demi no longer remembers the first time her mother told her the story, but she grew up always knowing her mother had been rapped while in college, just as surely as she knew the sky was blue. Her entire life, her mother had instilled in her the dangers that are present in the world for women. Her mother had instilled in Demi a sense of fear, especially of men, and especially of rape. Hearing her mother's story, it was inevitable that Demi would fear rape even more than death. The idea of not being in control of one's body, of not having say in who can touch it and who cannot…to Demi it is one of the cruelest things a human can do to another.

And Deborah Harris had made it her life's mission to make sure her daughter never experienced what she had. Her mother put her in self defense classes starting at age eight, her mother taught her how to constantly be aware of her surroundings, her mother spent hours teaching Demi how to protect herself at parties and in parking lots and when walking home.

And Demi had suddenly forgotten it all. She had let herself be lured away, let herself be crippled with fear.

Demi thinks about her parents. She can picture it so clearly in her head: they would start worrying when she doesn't answer their phone calls, but they would give her a few days before they file the missing person's report. She can see them sitting together in the family room, holding each other and sobbing as they come to terms with her disappearance. She can see their marriage begin to crack as they both struggle to accept the fact that they will never see her again and that they will most likely never know what happened to her. And Demi can picture her mother crumbling under the loss. Demi's disappearance would make her mother imagine the worst, would make her relive her own sexual assault.

So Demi makes a silent promise to herself to survive, no matter what. No matter what they do, or make her do, she will survive. Because her survival means the survival of her family, and she will do anything to assure this. They need me to survive. I have to survive, not just for myself, but for them.

Demi settles on all of this in the seconds before the door opens. The murderous man still grips each policeman by one of their ankles, and has now caught up to his bigger partner and Demi.

Finally, one of the doors opens and an elderly man, dressed in jeans and a long sleeved black shirt, stands in the door frame. He does not wear gloves or a cloak like the other men, nor does he have red eyes or unnaturally pale skin.

When he sees the men, he smiles and greets them fondly. "Sirs," he says, and pulls the door open wider, stepping out of the way. He does not comment on, nor seem upset by, Demi or the two dead Volterra policemen.

Inside the castle, a blast of cold hits Demi's face. They are in a long and narrow corridor, with stone beneath their feet and along the walls. The hallway is more of a tunnel; the path is not very wide and the ceiling is low. There are no windows, and small lamps mounted along the walls provide the only light. A few feet to the right of the door, in the corner of the tunnel is a desk with a small lamp turned on and some papers scattered along the surface.

Once the doors shut, the giant man lets go of Demi and she immediately backs away from him and into the wall. He pays her little mind as he watches his friend drop the dead bodies on the ground in front of the elderly man. He also shoves Demi's bag into the older man, and the elder takes it with a small bow of his head. Demi watches as he places it by the empty desk.

Demi can make out little of the old man in the light, besides the fact that he reminds her of her late grandfather—the same one who was a cop for over 30 years. Demi eyes shift from him towards the long corridor in front of her. She doesn't think much about the logistics or consequences of what she is planning; she is only concerned with escaping, and she (foolishly) believes she has just found a way out.

"Charles," the smaller man greets the elderly man, "Dispose of these, would you?"

"Yes, Sir. Is there anything else you will be needing from me tonight?" He asks.

Demi sees her chance and she takes it. She starts off towards the hallway, sprinting with all her might. But she's barely five feet into her escape when she feels a harsh tug on her hair. She cries, stumbles, and falls down. She's picked back up by the cruel grip on her hair, and through her tears she sees it's the smaller man—the man who murdered the policemen—who has her.

He stares down at her with a frown. "Now, now. Where do you think you're going?" His taunt renews her sobs and he lets go of her hair in favor of her arm.

He turns back to the elderly man and the giant, the latter still standing beside the corpses with a threatening smile on his face. In the new light, Demi can see now that the cloaks worn by the men, which she originally thought to be black, are actually dark gray.

"I'm sorry about that, Charles," the man holding Demi says, shaking his head disapprovingly like Demi is a disobedient child interrupting a 'grown-ups-only' conversation. "No," he replies. "I will not require any more of your services. If you will excuse us, we are under orders from Master Marcus to return to him as soon as possible."

The big man begins to walk towards them and his red eyes stay focused on Demi. Contacts, she thinks. They have to be contacts. Have to. No human can have those eyes.

"Of course. Have a nice night, gentlemen!" Charles responds as the men walk Demi further down the hall she had just been using to attempt escape. Demi turns her head one last time to see Charles on his knees in front of the bodies, making a cross in the air.

She turns back around and finds her voice. "Let go of me!" She demands of the smaller man, grabbing his hand with her free one and trying to pull his fingers off. They do not bulge, and he allows her to keep trying as he continues to pull her.

"Let go of me!" She screams again, her voice cracking as her emotions overwhelm her once again. She hasn't stopped crying since the courtyard, and she knows that if she is to survive and escape, she needs to be stronger. But it feels almost impossible to stop her tears.

"Stai zitto!" The man scolds her, glancing down once. His fingers curl even more tightly around her arm, overlapping. It hurts and Demi can already feel the bruises forming underneath his hand.

She swings up her free hand and scratches at the man's face with an enraged scream. "Let me go!" Her nails rake harmlessly along his face, although the sound is like nails on a chalkboard. His cheek is cold and hard. The man does not flinch, or show that it affects him at all. It does more damage to Demi; when she pulls her hand back, several of her nails are broken and she cries out in pain.

The man growls again, and decides he has had enough. Clamping his hand back down on her mouth, he leans in close. "Foolish girl," he hisses. His breath is cool and washes over Demi's face. Her shivers intensify.

The bigger man, chuckling at the small scuffle, follows closely behind them as the small man pushes Demi forward through the corridor, one hand on her arm holding her close, and the other over her mouth. The walk is relatively short and they reach the end of the hall quickly. There's nothing but an elevator door. Obviously, even if she had gotten farther, this hallway would not have helped her escape.

The elevator has two options, up or down, and the giant presses 'up'.

Almost immediately, the elevator pings and the doors open. Both men move in, the smaller one pulling Demi along with him and keeping her tethered to his side. The elevator is very large, reminding her of the ones at Ikea; these were made to be used by big groups of people. Demi briefly remembers the large tour group she saw enter the castle earlier today.

The elevator offers six levels: 3, 2, 1, L, R, D. The large man presses the button labeled '2'. While the elevator is spacious, it is also old. It creaks and shudders, and is extremely slow.

They move up two levels and then the elevators open and she is back in medieval times. Light is once again scarce and provided only by small lamps spaced every several feet along the wall. But this time, the ceiling is high and large paintings hang along the wall. Instead of cold stone, a velvet red carpet lies beneath Demi's shoes.

Somewhat calmer, Demi continues to be pulled down the hall by the smaller man, although he does finally remove his hand covering her mouth. She doesn't attempt to scream or plead for help, doubting that it will help her now. Instead, she focuses on her surroundings, trying to remember how many turns, corners, and twists she goes around. But it soon proves useless; the hallway is awe inspiringly large and intricate.

She estimates they walk for at least a minute or two before stopping in front of an unremarkable door. It's only then that Demi finally realizes how tired she is. It feels like it has been hours since the policemen had come to get her, but it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes. So much has happened so fast, and Demi has not had time to process it all yet. Part of Demi's mind is still in the courtyard, trying to come to terms with witnessing the murder of two (albeit, morally questionable) men.

Before the big man can knock on the door, it opens and a new man stands in the door frame. Demi stands behind her two captors, and the man is several inches shorter than her captors, thus she can't make out anything about him.

"You took too long," he growls—yes, growls—out, opening the door and stepping aside. The men walk in. Demi is only a step through the threshold when she's ripped from her captor's hold and brought into new arms.

They are frighteningly cold (even colder than the other men's) as they wrap completely around her frame. One drapes across her waist, the other across her shoulders, and they press her head into a broad chest. A face is buried in her neck and the man is sniffing, smelling, inhaling, her over and over again.

The act is surprisingly intimate and sensual, as the strange man's nose runs across Demi's exposed neck, collarbone, and even down her cleavage. The man is moaning, groaning, and Demi blushes deeply, her throat burning in humiliation. She can feel the eyes of the other men on her, standing by silently as she is assaulted by the new, unknown man. Demi stands helplessly in his arms, revolted. She feels violated in a way she never thought possible and she now questions how she'll be able to survive being a sex slave if she can barely stand a man smelling her.

Demi pushes against the man's chest, channeling all of her humiliation, embarrassment and anger into a strong shove. But no matter how hard she pushes, the man doesn't move, not even an inch. His body is rock hard and she can feel the cold stone, even through the material covering his body (a true, deep black cloak, similar to the ones the others wore, but much more luxurious).

"Oh, Didyme," he whispers. They are the first words he has spoken to her. His breath is cool and his voice, oh! His voice sends a shiver down her spine. His voice is rough, deep, and…erotic. She blushes against his chest as she realizes that his voice turns her on. The voice of her captor—my captor!—is single handedly the sexiest voice she has ever heard in her life. Like velvet fucking sex.

There is a certain quality to it…it's gravel-ly and deep, while at the same time soft and soothing. And he has an accent; it's light but consistent, and Demi cannot place it. Perhaps British, but maybe Italian? With hints of Eastern Europe? She's never had an ear for accents, and this man seems to be constantly fluctuating between several distinct ones.

"How I've missed you." What the hell does that mean?

As if Demi does not already hate the man for holding her to him and inhaling her with an inappropriate intimacy, she now resents him for the power his voice has over her body. Dear god, I need to get away from this man.

"Let go of me!" She's a broken record, repeating the same weak cry for power. It's muffled by the satin cloth wrapped around the man so she tries again. "I'm not Didyme! Let go!" She screams as loud as possible. Her voice cracks near the end and she begins to sob, clutching the man to hold herself up.

"Master," a voice says from somewhere beside them. Even blinded, she recognizes the voice of the smaller man. Demi continues to clutch the man's clothing, while at the same time trying to push away from him.

"What?" This voice belongs to the man holding her, and his chest rumbles with authority. It sends shock waves through her body, and she swears she can feel the vibrations all the way to her bones.

"Master…" There is a long pause. "Shall I bring the others?" he finally asks. And then the man pulls away from her and Demi gasps for fresh air. She leans as far away from him as she can.

"Oh, yes. Fetch my brothers, this is something they have to see." Once again, the man's chest rumbles with his command and Demi's breath is taken away with the inhuman quality of his voice.

"Yes, Master." The men exist, closing the door behind them. Demi begins to struggle again.

She twists and turns in the man's grasp, but she cannot escape his large arms. "Calm down, mio caro," the man purrs into her ear. He nuzzles his smooth shaven cheek against hers and inhales her scent again. Tears fall freely from her eyes and upon his clothes, wetting them.

"Please," she whispers, ashamed of how petrified she is. Her early promises of being strong and not crying are forgotten. "Oh, god, please!" She pleads.

The man shoos her and Demi cranes her head up to look upon his face for the first time.

He has short, brown hair that is unruly and messy. His face is so pale he looks albino, and his jaw is sharp. His cheekbones are high, his nose straight and his features perfectly chiseled. His skin is young and blemish free, stretched tightly over his bones and not a single wrinkle to be seen. It is all so perfect and angelic, like a painting by Michelangelo on the Sistine Chapel. Eyebrows, dark and neatly trimmed, frame eyes with long lashes. Everything on his face is smooth and new and so beautiful, except for his eyes. They are a vivid and loud bright blood red, and they turn his angelic face into that of a monster's, but a devastatingly hot monster.

The man smiles down at her as if he can sense her attraction to him. His teeth are perfect and blindingly white. It is the most threatening smile Demi has ever seen in her life. If it is meant to comfort her, it does the exact opposite, and the hairs all over her body stand up. She begins to tremble.

The man dips his head down to her neck, breathing in deeply. Demi tries to control herself by breathing in deep as well. She has regained some of her composure and is singing a mantra in her head: 'Do not breakdown. Stay alert. Survive. Do not breakdown. Stay alert. Survive.'

Demi closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. As he smells her, she smells him. His scent is dark and sweet. It reminds her of something she would buy at Bath and Body Works. He has hints of leather, raspberry and the scent of a newly opened magazine around him. It suits him, she thinks, although she knows nothing about him.

"Oh, how I have missed you." Demi does not respond. She is confused by his words. They have never met before, yet this man greets her, holds her, smells her like they are old lovers.

She remembers the way he caressed the name 'Didyme'. He thinks that I'm someone else.

And the sudden realization gives her hope. Perhaps she was not brought here to be a sex slave, and if she can convince this man of his mistake, perhaps she can leave.

Her tears keep coming, but she no longer feels like throwing up. All she has to do is get this man to realize she is not this 'Didyme', not the girl he thinks she is. She pushes against his chest, not very hard, but hard enough to let him know she wants to be free of his arms. Surprisingly, he lets go of her.

Before she can begin to scan her eyes around the room and figure out where she is, her eyes meet his. At first, her gaze is hard as she glares at him, but then his red eyes entrance her. They're unnatural and new. And, as much as she does not understand it, she needs to know more about them, about him.

The emotions inside of her conflict with each other. She does not like this man, and wants to get as far as possible from him as she can, but at the same time he is something new and strange. Curiosity has always been one of Demi's greatest weaknesses, and she can feel it now creeping up on her. She needs to know what this man thinks he knows, she needs to find out why he looks so triumphant and happy when staring at her. And she also needs to know how to get the hell away from him.

Suddenly, the door behind her opens and the tension between the man and her breaks. She blinks, and turns her body to look at the door, and hopefully make a run for it, when suddenly, instead of seeing the door, she sees the man's back. For a moment, she thinks she teleported behind the man, as she has no memory of actually moving back here. The man is again holding her, his hands reaching behind his back to grasp onto both of Demi's small wrists.

"Marcus," a voice drawls out from in front of her. She can't see around the man's—Marcus'—big frame. "What do you want?"

"Brothers," he says. His voice once again shocks Demi to the core. It is not a voice someone would expect from a man of his size, but it fits his (almost) angelic face. "A miracle has occurred." Two sets of footsteps echo on the floor as a pair of men walk forward into the room.

"Please," a new, more nasally, voice scuffs. "Don't start with that again. Talk plainly and tell me why you dragged me away from my wife." There is a chuckle, presumably from the first man who talked. It has the same, buttery light tone.

"Oh, and what's this?" the light voice asks. There's a pause and a sniff. "A heartbeat? Marcus, what have you got behind your back, brother?" Marcus' hands tighten around Demi's wrists, hesitating for a second, before jerking her forward. Demi squeals and stumbles, and then looks up.

There are two men in front of her, standing just inside the door. There is also a small, mousey woman standing a foot behind the men, still out in the hallway. She is so small, and almost completely hidden behind the men, that Demi would not have seen her, if the woman hadn't peered around the men for a second to glance at Demi. But she soon disappears behind the men and they regrab Demi's attention.

One of the men is taller than the other but still shorter than Marcus. He has long dirty blond hair pulled back into a short ponytail, but a few curly strands have escaped the hold and frame his face. He is wearing a black robe that covers all of his body except his hands, face and feet (which are bare). He's pale and shares the same red eyes that everyone here seems to have. His nose is a small nub, and he looks a little younger than Marcus with boyish features. His eyebrows are blond and not as thick as Marcus', but he's just as inhumanly good looking.

The smallest one, who is only an inch or two taller than Demi, has the longest hair of the three and it's black. It brushes against his shoulder blades. He wears a full black suit that, while tailored to fit him perfectly, is only buttoned up halfway, exposing the upper part of his chest. He looks more like the blond one than Marcus, but is paler than both, although that might just be the contrast of his black hair. His eyes are a duller red. He is more unsettling and older looking than the others, and while he is not ugly, he is not nearly as stunning as Marcus (or the blonde one for that matter).

All three of the men scream power. They hold a regal stance, with their heads high and their shoulders straight. Even the blonde, without shoes on, commands respect. And together, the three of them are the most intimidating thing Demi has ever seen.

The men are shocked when Demi is revealed to them. They disappear from where they stand several feet from her, and then suddenly reappear less than a foot away. Demi gasps and flinches back but is trapped against Marcus.

The man with the black hair takes the last step towards her so that their shoes touch each other. Over the man's shoulder, Demi can see the blonde one, eyes wide, staring at her intently, and that the mousey woman has moved forward to stand beside the blonde. Her hand reaches out so that her finger-tips lightly brush against the black haired man's shoulder. He jerks his shoulder out of her touch.

"Leave us, Renata," he commands. Renata's eyes flash around the room, as if they are looking for something. She begins to shake.

"Master," she whines out desperately, eyeing Demi.

"Now!" The man bites back aggressively, never taking his eyes off Demi. She can feel his cool breath against her face. Renata makes a strangled sound of annoyance but turns sharply on her heel and storms out of the room, slamming the door shut.

Slowly, the man brings his hands up towards Demi and she turns her head from him, pushing further into Marcus' chest, but she cannot escape him. He gently catches Demi's chin, and brings her back to face him, softly cradling her face with his hands. His jaw is slack as he gapes at her.

"Didyme?" he whispers. She meets his awed eyes with a hard glare. There's that name again; Didyme. "Oh, Didyme." This man mistakes her for the same woman that Marcus mistakes her for. And slowly, her hope at being released once they realize their mistake is shrinking away. How much likeness could she and this Didyme really share?

And then the man, cradling her face and looking upon her with the softest of expressions, does something shocking to Demi. He falls to his knees in front of her, his hands leaving her face to caress down the sides of her body. They leave a trail of goosebumps as his cold fingers dance across her skin from her shoulders all the way down to her ankles. She gasps again but is frozen in place by the hard look upon the blonde's face, standing right behind the kneeling man.

The black haired man leans forward and places kisses on top of Demi's dirty and cheap boots. What the hell is going on? "Didyme, my sweet sister. How I have missed you," he mutters softly.

"It's amazing, is it not?" Marcus asks from behind her, his voice still sending a shock of thrill down Demi's spine. His arms are wrapped tightly around Demi's waist, keeping her still as the men talk over her.

"She is human," the blonde answers in disbelief. His red eyes scrutinize Demi for a moment, turning more hostile with every second. "A doppleganger." His eyes turn hard suddenly as he looks towards Marcus. Demi's head spins with all the implications of his words. "How?" He hisses out in anger.

"I do not know, brother," Marcus says simply. "That is why I claim a miracle." The blonde one scuffs, rolls his eyes and turns them on the man still kneeling in front of Demi.

"Get up, damn it!" He snaps at the man. The man responds instantly to the command, jumping to his feet so quickly and so gracefully it causes all the air to rush out of Demi's lungs. Unbelievable. The man seems completely recovered from whatever mental breakdown he just experienced, his eyes bright as they rest on Demi.

"She does not remember us?" He questions Marcus. His voice, while beautiful and haunting, is much lighter and softer than Marcus' and does not have the same arousing effect on her. Behind her, Marcus lets out an exaggerated sigh.

"It would appear not."

Demi wants to shout at them all. Of course I do not remember you! You have the wrong girl! But as the man's red eyes come back to her, she is pinned down by fear.

There's a pause. "Do you mind?" The black haired man is looking at her, but it's only when Marcus nods his head that the man reaches out and grasps her hands. As soon as her palm touches his, pictures—dozens, hundreds, thousands—flutter around in her mind and Demi attempts to pull away from him with a gasp. But the man has her hands tightly secured in his.

"What—what are you doing?" she cries as the images continue. They appear then disappear quickly, leaving Demi no time to try and figure out what they are. The only things she can discern from the mental pictures are flashes of color; green, red, white, black.

Just as suddenly as they started, the images stop, and the man is smiling as he lets go of Demi's hands. Demi wraps her arms around herself and shivers. Marcus still keeps a tight hold of her shoulders.

"Oh, Marcus," he says with a sigh and a soft laugh. "I find evidence to support your claim." Marcus' fingers squeeze her shoulders gently.

"What did you see?" Marcus asks excitedly.

"Her name is Demi." Marcus and Demi gasp at the same time, although for different reasons. How the hell does he know my name? Demi fumes. What the hell is going on here? Who are these people?

"Well then," the blonde one mutters.

"I know!" The black haired man exclaims in glee. "While she may yet be aware of it, it is clear that she is indeed meant for our brother. A gift from the gods, or perhaps Didyme herself sent her for you, Marcus." No response from behind her. His fingers are still tightly clenched onto Demi's shoulders, and his body is stiff against hers. She has a vague feeling that he is in shock, although over what is still unclear to her.

"And yet, here we are, being rude. Poor little human knows nothing. Marcus, make the introductions." The man takes a step back to stand beside the blonde and Demi lets out a large breath. There is another moment of silence, and Demi thinks that Marcus might not snap out of it.

But then he takes a step forward so that he stands beside her, his hands sliding from her shoulders and lightly grasping her elbow.

"Of course," he mutters. "Forgive me, dear. Demi, these are my brothers, Lord Aro," his hand flutters to the black haired man, "and Lord Caius." The blonde. "You will refer to them as such, understood?"

Demi does not answer him, partly because she thinks his question is rhetorical, and partly because she doesn't know what to say. Other than her small outcry when Aro—Lord Aro, Demi thinks sarcastically—grabbed her hand and those strange pictures came to her eyes, Demi has been silent the entire time.

"Speak, human," Caius—Lord Caius—demands, his lips curling cruelly over his teeth. He looks like a wild wolf, about to attack. Demi opens her mouth but has no inkling of what to say. She is still incredibly scared but as she looks at Caius' mocking smile, the anger underneath her fear finally begins to boil over. She says the only thing she has been wanting to say since she first heard the name 'Didyme' roll out Marcus' lips.

"I'm not whoever the fuck you think I am," she snarls out, taking on Caius'—Lord Caius', she reminds herself again—hostile tone. She puts as much venom into her words as possible. All three men look shocked for a second (I guess their sweet Didyme never talked like that), and Demi smiles at how she is finally able to surprise them, relishing in the feeling of being able to exert whatever little power she has in this situation to knock them off balance.

Lord Caius recovers quickly, though, and sneers at her.

"She's got quite a mouth on her, doesn't she?" Demi curls her hands into fists. Caius' tone pisses her off. Caius notes her annoyance, and his sneer turns into a full smile, showing all of his perfectly white teeth. She shivers involuntarily as her instincts scream at her to fight or run away.

"We'll have to work on her vocabulary." Now Caius is blatantly fishing for a reaction, and he gets one. He stands back and watches, pleased, as multiple emotions run across Demi's face.

"Fuck you," Demi spits at him, lunging forward a little in Marcus' grasp. Aro lets out a roar of laughter that echoes in the small room. Caius, however, frowns.

"Enough," Marcus commands. Aro stops laughing immediately. "We have more pressing matters to discuss." Aro regards Marcus for a moment, and Demi watches as multiple emotions flicker across Aro's own face, but then finally he nods once in agreement.

"Yes, of course, Marcus. Shall we retire to my chambers?" Aro offers. There is no verbal reply from Marcus but Aro smiles and sharply turns on his heel, walking out of the room, Caius following closely behind.

With a forceful hand at the nape of her neck, Marcus leads her out of what she realizes is an office, and down the hallway the two men had previously forced her down.

She flinches at Marcus' cold grip but does not otherwise fight the hold. Her eyes scan the darkened hallways for a possible way to escape, but she finds none. She trails behind the group as they lead her through a confusing and twisting maze of hallways and passages which return her to the elevator. As they wait for the elevator to open, Aro turns to Marcus.

"How did you find her, Marcus?" Marcus begins to softly caress the back of Demi's neck as he answers, causing more shivers of fright, cold, and attraction to run through Demi's body.

"I was by the window in my study, and her scent... I looked outside, and I saw her. Didyme. Just sitting on one of the benches, reading." Marcus pauses as the elevator doors open and the group steps into it. Aro blindly presses the button labeled '3'.

"I thought it was her," he admits quietly, looking away from Aro as if he is ashamed. His thumb does not stop making small circles against Demi's neck. "I truly believed this human was Didyme, even after Felix and Demetri brought her to me. Even after I felt her heart-beat." Demi stands quietly as Marcus confesses this, and she watches carefully as Aro places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I did too, brother. I believe she was meant for you, and that it was your fate for you to find Demi tonight. I think Didyme, in all her wonder and brilliance, sent her here for you."

Marcus' eyes lift to meet Aro's and the two share something. Something passes between the two as they communicate with their eyes only, and the act is so intimate that Demi has to look away, her gaze falling on Caius. Caius is not watching the two either, and his red eyes are trained on Demi like a hawk's.

Before Demi all but breaks down under his intense, red stare, the elevator doors open, revealing one large, circular chamber. It is dramatically anticlimactic, as there is nothing in the room, not an ounce of furniture or a soul to be seen. The only thing the room holds are three doors.

One door is in the center of the back wall, directly across and parallel to the elevator. Then, perpendicular to the elevator are doors on both the right and left walls. This whole third floor is split into three separate wings.

Aro—Lord Aro—leads the group to the door immediately across from the elevator. While walking across the marble stone, Caius lets out a quiet command, "Dora". Demi does not give much thought to the word, and thinks that perhaps it is an Italian word unknown to her limited knowledge of the language. But as Aro opens the door to the center wing, he makes a similar demand: "Sulpicia".

Marcus pulls her through the door.

Suddenly, there are two more people standing in front of Demi, although this time they are women. She jumps, startled, as they appear out of nowhere.

The first one is absolutely stunning and completely enchanting. She screams sex, with thin eyebrows that arch around her dark lashes and gleaming red eyes. Her nose is straight and leads to seductive pair of pale, pink lips. They curl upwards to show her square chin and sharp lines of the jaw. She is wearing a simple red dress that hugs her curves, with the hem just flirting with the floor.

The other woman is a few inches taller than the first and about the same height as Demi. While the first woman screams sensuality and sex, this woman is different. Still undoubtedly beautiful, but in a much more subtle way. She's just as pale as the woman standing to her right, but not as pale as Aro. She has dirty blonde, wavy hair layered to just above the bottom of her breasts. Her face is heart shaped with an oval chin and jaw and she has much thicker eyebrows than the other woman. Her lashes are longer and darker as well, and her eyes are not as narrowed. She is wearing a long, simple, white strapless dress that highlights her long neck and delicious collarbone.

The two women suck in a gasp as Demi is revealed to them, and just as suddenly as they first appeared, they reappear less than a foot away, hands reaching out to touch her. They react the same way Aro and Caius had, with awe and confusion.

Demi jerks away frighteningly from their touch, but there is nowhere to go, as she backs into Marcus' chest. Suddenly, she realizes, as her head is pressed against his massive pecks, that she cannot feel his heartbeat. Her ear is right against his hard chest, but she cannot hear a thing. He is as silent as he is cold. And with that, her suspicions are confirmed; Marcus, his "brothers", and most likely these women as well, are not human.

This new thought paralyzes her, and she doesn't move as the women close in on her.

"Didyme!" The woman in the white dress cries happily. The woman tugs Demi away from Marcus and envelopes her in her arms. Demi feels the same coldness, and lack of heartbeat, that she felt from Marcus. How had I missed it before? Demi wonders. Marcus certainly pressed me against his body enough times before now.

Something causes the woman to stiffen suddenly, and she jumps back from her and hisses, her eyes narrowing to glare at Demi. The movement is so inhuman, so violent and animalistic, that had Demi not already figured out that these beings were not human, this action would have been the final clue.

"Human?" She looks to her side at Caius. He steps towards her and wraps an arm around her waist.

"This is what made me leave you earlier tonight," he mutters against the woman's throat as he nuzzles her. Demi feels uncomfortable and embarrassed as a sensual smile comes across the woman's face. "Yes, she is human."

The woman in the red dress has not moved from her spot, a foot in front of Demi, and now stands closest to her out of everyone. She scrutinizes her, looking her up and down before glaring. "She does not know who we are. She does not remember?"

"No, my love." It is Aro who speaks now, taking a step forward like to reach the woman, who offers her hand for him to take. Demi notices Aro pause for a second, but Demi has no idea why. Nonetheless, the pause is only momentarily and he shifts his eyes back to Demi as he continues.

"While she may look exactly like our dear, sweet, Didyme, she is not her," Aro speaks again.

Everybody's eyes are trained on Demi and it makes her skin crawl, her hairs stand up, and her heart pound. She can hear it in her ears, a rushing and swooshing sort of sound that blocks out most other noise. These people—is that the right word for them? They aren't human, what do I call them?—are predators, and her fight and flight response is hyperactive around them.

The group is quiet for some time before Marcus talks from behind her. It makes Demi jump, because he had been so silent she had almost—how silly of her!—forgotten he was there. "Let us sit down and discuss this. There is much to explain." He reaches out and grabs Demi by the arm lightly, turning her and pulling her deeper into the room.

The room is loft-like with wooden floors that creak underneath Demi's weight (but not, she notices, under the weight of the others). The walls are dark gray stone but several gold and red tapestries decorate them and drapes hang from the windows lining the walls. The curtains are open, and the moonlight the only strong light source in the room, despite the large chandelier hanging in the center of the ceiling.

Across the room on the wall is a large bed, the sheets rustled and unmade. Someone had been sleeping, or doing something, in the bed before Demi was brought here. The sheets are gold and the comforter is a dark red, keeping within the color scheme of the entire castle. There are at least half a dozen pillows stacked against the wooden headboard or hazarding thrown around the surface of the bed. Around the mattress are four thin wooden columns, one at each corner, and a thin white veil threads through the hooks at the top.

The bed takes up the right side of the door, and on the left is a relatively large sitting area, with two couches and several chairs, all of them red with golden trim and pattern. A solid, dark wooden table is placed in the center of the semi-circle formation, and the furniture is angled inward to create a circle.

All together, the room has an interesting duality. It is shocking modern, with its sitting room and fine lines, while at the same time having the theatric, over-the-top ambience of the Renaissance, with the color and the grandeur of the furniture.

Marcus leads her towards one of the couches, pulling her down to sit beside him. Her thigh brushes against his on the two-seater, and it is only his restraining hand placed on her knee that keeps her in her seat after the small contact. Nonetheless, she still jerks away from him and presses herself against the armrest and back of the couch, folding in on herself.

Directly across from her, the four others squeeze into a couch meant for three people. They, unlike Demi, are not bothered by their close quarters or their intimate contact with each other as they stare at Demi, calculating.

"They share the same scent," the woman in red notes. She says it somewhat distantly, as if she is stating a scientific fact. "I wonder; do they share the same voice? Speak, girl." The command is so sharp, and the woman's red glare so terrifying, that it momentarily stuns Demi into silence. It takes her several seconds to gather enough courage, and enough sense, to string together a coherent sentence.

"I don't understand what's happening. Please, let me go. I am not whoever you mistake me as!" The last part is more pleaded than stated, but overall, Demi is proud of herself for not just immediately breaking down into sobs.

The red woman's frowns. "She's American," she says with displeasure. I suppose that's a 'no' to the whole 'same voice' thing. "And yes, I would presume that you are quite confused. Aro?" The woman arches a brow at the man sitting to her left.

"Of course, my dear, forgive me. Sulpicia, Athenodora, meet Miss Demi Harris, of Dayton, Ohio. Demi," Aro gestures to the red woman, who wears a thin and seductive smile, "my wife, Sulpicia." Next he flutters his hand across Caius, indicating the woman in the white. "Athenodora, Caius' wife."

"Call me Dora, dear. All my friends do," the woman chimes in. And for some reason, this irks Demi. It really angers her how the woman smiles at her, like they actually are friends. Demi can take Sulpicia's sneers, and Caius' glares, but she cannot take this woman's friendly smile or how she pretends that what is going on is completely normal. Apparently, her husband is similarly displeased, as Caius' lips twitch into a frown at his wife's words. If his wife notices, she does not react.

"We are not friends," Demi snaps. A flicker of surprise crosses the couples' faces. Beside her, Marcus lets out a growl. Before Demi can comprehend the inhuman sound, a cold hand wraps around her neck and clasps her chin tightly, forcing her head to turn towards the bright bloody eyes of her captor.

Marcus' breath is icy as it hits Demi in the face. His jaw is tight, his eyes blaze with anger, and his voice is as sharp as a knife. "Rule number one, human," he hisses out. His casual acknowledgment that he is indeed not a human makes Demi's heart skip a beat. "You will treat us with respect. We are above you in all ways." The hand tightens around her neck and Demi gasps.

Experiencing a semi-out-of-body experience, she can't help but to wonder if this was the last thing the policemen felt before they died; the cold hands of some alien creature wrapping around their necks and squeezing. Maybe they even felt the small twitch in his hands just before he dealt the final blow.

"Come now, Marcus," Aro says pleasantly from behind Demi, pulling her back to the present. "Our dear Demi is simply frightened. Humans often lash out when faced with a situation in which they are powerless." Again, Demi does not miss the subtle way he distances himself from her, in that she is human and he is not. Well, if these people are not human, what are they?

Marcus' eyes narrow at Aro's words, and while he loosens his grip enough to allow Demi to breathe, he does not let her go.

"You will apologize to Dora," Marcus' hisses at her. Demi's mouth runs dry, not necessarily at his words (although those provide a problem as well), but at his tone. 'Hisses' is the best, and only way, to describe how the words come out. Maybe he's a snake, she thinks, surprised that she has any sense of humor left at all.

"I'm sorry," Demi whines out, glancing quickly over to the other couch. None of them are looking at her, but instead at Marcus. Demi finds it hard to read any emotion off of their stone hard faces and red eyes, but she thinks they look faintly surprised by Marcus. What? Is he not usually so violent with his captives?

"Again." Marcus demands. His lips pull back from his teeth, and because Demi is less than six inches from them, it has now taken the title of being the most terrifying thing she has witnessed tonight. She sobs, and her body goes on autopilot to try and scamper away from him. Her hands come up to push and beat against his chest. "Apologize again, and mean it."

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I promise! Please, please let me go!" She's crying now and any promise she made to remain strong are now out the window. Oh God! Just let me get away from this man!

As if deliberately doing the opposite of her plea, Marcus leans closer towards her neck, his teeth just hovering over her arteries.

"Marcus!" Aro snaps loudly. Instantly, Demi is released and she collapses against the armrest, sobbing and crying fiercely. The others are still staring at Marcus, and this time the shock is easy to read on their faces. They truly are surprised at Marcus' actions.

"What has gotten into you, brother?" Aro questions. Instead of answering, Marcus' simply thrusts out a hand to hang in between himself and Aro. Without hesitation, Aro clasps it in his own. He does not close his eyes, or bow his head, as he had done when he held Demi's hand, but his eyes did lose focus.

Only seconds later, Aro releases Marcus. "I see, brother. My, my," he mutters softly, leaning back into the couch. Marcus swivels his eyes from Aro to watch Demi, still crying pitifully loud. "I agree with your assessment. It is interesting that you are already tied so strongly to her, and yet your bond to Didyme remains untouched."

Demi can just hear Aro's light, conversational tone, over her cries and she tries to quiet them to better hear him. They'll talking about her, and she wants to know what they're saying. She also needs to gain her composure if she's going to escape. While her future looks less and less likely to contain a sex slavery ring, she still does not want to be here. She might not know much about who, or what, these people are, but she knows they're dangerous. Her instincts tell her that, and they have already proven they have no trouble with murder.

"I cannot lie; I am just as intrigued by her as you. If Caius has no problem with your plan, I see no reason why you cannot keep her."

Keep her.

Keep her. Keep…me? Aro's words pound in Demi's head. She replays them several times before she makes the connection that she is the 'her' in the sentence.

"Your plan?" She hears Caius question from someplace far away.

"She'll be my wife…again."

At this, Demi turns her head from where it was curled up into the armrest and towards Marcus. He did not just say what I think he said. There is no way I heard that correctly. But Caius simply nods his head like he expected this.

"I assumed. I am happy for you, brother. You are alive once more."

The women remain silent, although Dora has a smile on her face, and Sulpicia, well she's not not smiling, so they both seem pleased.

But Demi is still trying to wake up from this nightmare. This all has to be some kind of sick joke. None of what she has witnessed here tonight can be real. And certainly not what Marcus just said. He cannot honestly expect Demi to marry him. Can he?

With each passing moment, Demi is dragged deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole. It seems impossible, but each new development makes her situation worse than previous. First, she had been tricked by some not-so-honest cops, then she watched those two officers be brutally murdered before being kidnapped by the men who did so. Next, she's brought to Marcus, a man who thinks he has some weird claim on her and who whispers another woman's name into her ear, and who will not explain anything. Then she finds out that not only is Marcus (and presumably everyone else in this castle) not human, he wants to marry her.

She would laugh, if she hadn't been the one to live through it.

These people talk so vaguely about who and what they are, and what exactly they want with Demi that it makes her head hurt. None of this helps Demi in her escapes to attempt. The first rule in beating thine enemy, is knowing thine enemy, and Demi knows nothing. While the first thing Demi wants to scream at these people is that they are all crazy and that there is no chance in hell she would ever marry Marcus, that won't help her get any more information. So she goes with her second most pressing concern.

"What are you?" She finds her voice with surprising ease as she pulls herself up from the fetal position to sit with her back straight and her shoulders back. So far, being afraid and timid has not helped her get out of this situation (she stubbornly refuses to acknowledge that her bravo has yet to work either) so she decides to try a new strategy—one that involves not breaking down into a sniveling, quaking fool the moment one of them even looks at her.

The red eyes of death return to her, and she eventually does have to drop her eyes to look at the floor, as to not lose her nerve. Well there goes the whole 'look strong' thing. "You're hearts do not beat. Your skin is all but translucent, yet I see no veins in your hands. You speak of humans like you are not one. You are cold and strong and hard. You are not human, so what are you?"

"What marvelous observations!" Aro's high pitched voice squeals. "And what a good question too, my dear. Marcus, would you like the honors?"

"We are vampires."

Well, that was unexpected. Demi sits, silent and stunned as she tries to think of a way to respond. It's not that she does not believe him, but to hear him say the word so casually and straightforward and with no 'dun dun dun!' music following his pronouncement is a shock.

When Marcus sees the slack-jawed look of confusion on her face, he says, "A demonstration perhaps?"

Demi remains silent. Her mind is still processing his earlier statement, and this new one goes in one ear and out the other without a thought.

But across the room, Caius is smiling. "Marvelous idea, brother." Caius makes a point to mimic and mock Aro, exaggerating and drawing out his words. Aro's smile does not falter, however, and Demi is unsure if he simply missed the slight jab or if he is deliberately not acknowledging it.

With a movement that Demi's eyes do not catch, (vampires, huh) Caius is on his feet. "I will call for someone to bring us up a snack." He disappears, and on autopilot, Demi turns her head around to see him by the right side of the bed, picking up a landline phone and pressing a button. His lips move as he speaks into it, but Demi can hear no sound. In an instant, he is gone from the spot.

A sudden breeze behind her is her only warning. Slowly, still on autopilot, she finds Caius sitting back down on the couch, like he never even left. Unknown to herself, she's nodding her head vigorously. Yes, yes, that makes sense. Vampires.

She feels Marcus' arms capture her again, holding her tight against him but she does not fight. For a moment, she presses her ear against his chest, just to make sure that he indeed does not have a heartbeat, and when this is confirmed, she does not attempt to pull away. Hmm…I guess him being a vampire could explain this, and his fast movements, and his insistence that he smell me.

In fact, right now, as she thinks this, Marcus subjects her to another session of him practically inhaling her. She is not sure how long this lasts, but he finally let's go of her when there is one single knock on the door. The sound jars her a little, pulling her from her thoughts, and she watches Caius float across the wooden floors, never making a sound, to open the door.

Just outside the doorframe is a man and a sobbing, pleading woman.

"Master," the man says with a small bow of his head as Caius is revealed to him. With a start, Demi recognizes that this man is not human; his pale skin and red eyes are almost identical to those beings currently in the room with her. She also realizes he is not one of the men who brought her to Marcus. Counting the five in here, this man outside, and the two men who kidnapped her, there are at least eight vampires in this castle.

The man is holding onto the sobbing girl by her arm. Demi quickly recognizes the scene in front of her; had she not been that sobbing girl, begging to be let go as she was lead through the castle by a cold hand on her arm, just an hour (if that) ago?

"You may leave," is all Caius says as he takes the woman from his grasp. He closes the door firmly and hauls the trembling girl through the room. Aro, Sulpicia, and Dora stand from their seats as Caius marches the girl towards the wooden table placed in between the couches.

"Per favore! No, lo prometto, sarò buono!" The girl pleads, struggling to get away from Caius.

Demi's Spanish is about as bad as her Italian, but even she understands enough to know what the girl is saying. Hell, she's sure that this girl is using the same words that she herself used.

Beside Demi, Marcus is utterly still and silent as the girl is dragged across the wooden table in between the couches. The girl's yells and pleads dissolve into screeches. Horrible, terrible, high-pitched wails of desperation. They hurt Demi's ears and she has to shove her palms against her head. My god, is this what I looked and sounded like?

Caius pushes the girl down upon the table so that her face is turned towards the ceiling. Sulpicia, Aro, Caius and Dora fall to their knees around her. She looks like a sacrifice for a benevolent, but demanding, god, as her arms and legs frail about to find some leverage and the god's loyal worshippers keep her in place. The girl tries to sit up, but a quick hand around her throat keeps her down.

Comprehension is just beginning to dawn on Demi; hadn't Caius said something about snacks? She tries to stand up, but Marcus' hand on her knee stops her. She uses a different tactic.

"Hey! Stop! Don't!" She emphasizes as the group begins to place their hands on the girl's body, as if claiming their zone. Caius has the girl's upper right thigh, Sulpicia grabs the girl's left wrist, Dora hovers above the upper left thigh (mirroring her husband), and Aro leans his body across her chest, his lips placing small but sensual kisses on the girl's throat.

Vampires. They're vampires. Demi is fully convinced. But surely, they would not…

"No, stop, please!" Her words have no bearing on the events playing out in front of her. Suddenly, she feels as helpless as she imagines the girl about to be teared into feels. "Stop!" She screams as those gathered around the girl begin to lean in. She sees their lips pull back, their shiny teeth gleam in the light.

"Oh God," Demi moans. "Oh God no!" She closes her eyes, not wanting to witness the girl's death.

"Open your eyes," Marcus' cool voice floats into her ear. He's right next to her, a cold hand on her arm, rubbing up and down. She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes tighter shut. "Open your eyes," he tells her again, harder this time, "or I'll ask for another human, and their unnecessary death will be on your hands."

The threat is enough to force Demi's eyes open, and she sees that the others have not started their meal yet. The girl is still thrashing in their holds, crying and pleading in Spanish. Demi is grateful she can't understand the girl, because she is sure that if she could, she would never be able to get the woman's last words out of her head.

As soon as Demi's eyes return to the girl, the group attacks, sinking their teeth into her flesh like a knife through butter. The girl's screams cut off suddenly, as Aro's teeth contract around her throat. Demi can't tell if the girl's silence is because she is already dead, or if Aro severed her vocal chords in his initial bite.

Demi is all too aware of Marcus' body pressed up against her as she watches the murder of yet another human. It is her third witnessed murder of the night, and it seems like with each death, the horridness becomes worse and worse. Demi can no longer watch, and she twists in Marcus' hold just enough to lean over the side of the couch and vomit. She continues to dry heave long after the pasta and gelato Demi had for dinner find their way back up.

She can barely breathe, but she isn't sure if that is due to her retching or her sobbing. She feels unbelievably exhausted and there is a dull roaring in her ears. Cold arms wrap around her and then...