In the year 2020, Vampires took control of society and ordered all humans placed in vampire custody. The people who were not captured formed a Resistance movement, headed by the Human Council, who began to plan the Insurgence.

I am, of course, indebted to Stephenie Meyer for this world we all play in, and these characters we all adore. Additionally, I am indebted to hitntr01, who has graciously allowed me to use certain concepts from her wonderful story "In Need of Rescue", which constitute much of the background of my own story. These include: the language Vampiri, the Rules, the machines used to draw blood from humans, Manners Training, and the plot theme of Edward working as a guard at a facility holding humans. Thank you, hitntr01.

Epilogue – Outtake 1 – This chapter would have taken place after Chapter 30, Jasper's birthday party, and before the death of Aro in Chapter 44

Chapter 49 - Carlisle's birthday party, Part 2

Carlisle seemed to enjoy the two Bibles. He spent part of the evening lost in thought, different from his usual gregarious self, though.

I worried that I had trespassed on his private past. He was not only coven master, but also creator and father figure to the majority of the members of his coven. Only Alice and Jasper had joined from the outside. Yet his personal origins had been left behind.

When he told his own creation story, the story of his change event, Carlisle simply said he had accidentally stumbled upon some ancient vampires living in the London sewers. It was clear that in his mind, there wasn't any possibility that his creator could still exist, so the full details of his own change would never be known.

Due to my so-called gift, which weighed heavily on me like a curse, I sensed the "human" in vampires. I saw their change events as well as their most recent interactions with humans. This might help the freedom fighter, but when spending extended time with an individual vampire, watching their human death on a daily basis became wearing.

In Carlisle's case, when I first met him, I could barely even see his faded human memories, as the attack had taken place at night. He had been drawn to an alley, where he was attacked then dropped and left to change instead of dying. I saw only the confusion and pain of the attack.

As time went on, the details became clearer with each repeated viewing. I began to see a profile of his attacker, just for an instant, in the light of the moon just before he struck. Seen in profile, I noticed that the attacker had a prominent, hooked nose.

The cousins had drawn a picture of the mystery vampire's profile from Carlisle's hazy memories, and once we had an image, we accessed the vampire profiles contained in the Volturi Police's computerized data base. At the time of the Event in 2020, all vampires were required to register, pick a residence city where they would have to remain for five years, and list their gifts.

We started our search of the database looking for vampires dwelling in London during 1660. We didn't think we would get a hit. After all, from the description Carlisle gave, the likelihood of this vampire surviving to the present day didn't seem possible.

Surprisingly, we did find several vampires living in London who had been active during the 1660's. And one had the distinctive hooked-nose from Carlisle's profile. He listed his name as Alfred Donne, and he had been changed during the Viking raids on London in 851 while he was living in London as an apprentice. He had been the coven master of a number of small covens that had existed with various members from around the 10th century to the late 19th century. After that, he seemed to tire of coven life and had killed off the remaining coven members. He currently had a minor post in the Volterran government, which liked putting older vampires in the major cities on their payroll. They felt it was easier to keep control of them.

Once we had identified Alfred as a candidate, the mind-reader had the unenviable task of going through his memories. He said it was like diving into a pool of blood, viewing the scenes of murder. Not only did Alfred and his coven dine on humans, Alfred had on several occasions wearied of the in-fighting of his coven, and killed off the other members. He would grow lonely and restless after a few decades, and always created new vampires that would form a coven for fifty-odd years, before he would kill them off as well.

Finally the mind-reader found a different memory. While Alfred's coven of the 17th century usually fed on the sailors and the prostitutes that worked the London docks, those who were easily lost to society, one night they had sensed an attack on the coven itself, so they had turned in a different direction from their usual feeding ground.

They had gone west on what is now Fleet Street, where they met a human group headed south from one of the London churches. As Alfred was the coven master, he took on the task of finding and eliminating the leader of this human threat. His job wasn't difficult: a tall, blond man with a torch quickly broke ahead of the others, leading the chase when the vampires came into sight.

His height and hair color seemed to indicate it was Carlisle. The mind-reader then followed Alfred's memories of his attack on this man in an alley, one that was quickly aborted and the body dropped when the vampire fled.

It was a match to Carlisle's memories.

So how to tell Carlisle?

I waited until after the party was over, at least for me, when it was time for bed. Carlisle liked to read to me; we were on another Dickens novel, A Tale of Two Cities. This time, as he was picking up the novel that he left by my bed, I said, "Wait. There was one other thing."

"That was a lot for one evening, little one. I cannot imagine anything else," he replied softly.

"This isn't a thing," I said. "It's a story."

"Ah, now a story. How does it go?" he asked with a smile.

"It starts in London, in the 1660's. There is a church, where a young man looks out over his congregation after his evening sermon. The assembled congregants are dressed warmly and carrying torches, as it is night. He raises his hand after his reading and exhorts them to do God's work this night in safety.

Then he strides down among them, his robes flowing around him. He puts on a cloak against the chill London night air and leaves St. Andrew Understaff for the last time.

He takes one of the torches from the waiting men and leads the group into the street. They are heading south, towards a house a few blocks from the docks, where there have been reports of unholy creatures emerging from the sewers.

Someone appears in the street ahead of the men. It is a girl, appearing to be crippled. But when she turns towards the group, the moonlight glints eerily off of her red eyes. The preacher in the lead begins to pick up the pace. He starts to run after the girl.

The girl turns off of the main street. The leader, who has now distanced himself from his group, passes an alley, where a flash of movement catches his eye. Unnoticed by the rest of his group, he turns off of the road into this alleyway. There he is met by the vampire who has been following him from the rooftops, leaping from one to another in order to keeps pace with the mob while tracking him.

This vampire leaps down on the man, shoving him up against the wall."

Carlisle is watching me silently.

"Do you want me to continue?" I ask.

"How do you know this," he breathes softly.

"In part, from a mind-reader who sorted through your memories. He found a likely match for your attacker in the database, a vampire from the 17th century who still survives in London. Shall I continue?"

"Yes, I want to hear," Carlisle replies.

"The vampire lifts the blond man off of his feet, and in the moment before he plunges his teeth into his victim's neck, there is a flash of his profile in the moonlight."

I pause; Carlisle waits.

"He had a significant schnoz," I add.

"A what?" asks Carlisle.

"A nose, and in his case, a hooked nose. It was clear in his profile in the moonlight, just for a second before he buried his face into his victim's neck. He was interrupted, though, by men who were back-tracking, searching for their leader. So he dropped his victim, still alive but now with venom in his bloodstream, while he leapt back onto the rooftop for safety."

Carlisle nods, thinking.

"Do you remember now?" I ask.

"It's coming back. I try not to think about that night, though."

"Great. So I brought up more old wounds, without bandages," I say quietly.

"No, it was time. Did your mind-reading friend figure out his name?"

"He now goes by Alfred, Alfred Donne. He had maintained a residence along the river for centuries. Until the mid-twentieth century, he kept the building abandoned by making it appear haunted. After that, he ended his latest coven and moved into better quarters. He currently holds an appointment with the Volterran government. His title is Minister of Historical Assets, but he doesn't really have to report anything. The position exists in order to put Alfred Donne on their payroll. It seems Aro likes to keep vampires who might know something in his employ."

"That does sound like Aro," replies Carlisle thoughtfully.

"Is it better, knowing? I mean, we didn't know if we would find anyone, it's been so long. He's been around since the 9th century; he was changed when the Vikings invaded London in 851 A.D. Apparently part of the reason for the Vikings military success was they had a few inhuman fighters among them."

"One of many of their raids on London," said Carlisle.

I kept watching Carlisle. Had I gone too far?

He looked at me and smiled, seeming to guess my thoughts. "Are you worried I am angry or unhappy?" he asked.

"Yes, a little."

"No, I find your researches most interesting. And your confederates more than a little interesting. I would like to meet them," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"Maybe after the Insurgency," I replied. He nodded.

"Happy Birthday," I said as I lay down, starting to drift off to sleep.

His answer was the light touch of his cool hand on my forehead, brushing my hair away from my eyes.

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