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aurora-by-jacqui-natla · 1 year

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11. THE NOMADS

"HELLO THERE, LITTLE ONE," HE GREETED me with a warm smile, extending his hand towards me. His towering figure loomed over me, much like Siobhan and Liam. His rugged face was adorned with a thick layer of stubble, and his lips curved upwards in a friendly manner. Although his approach was amiable, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance when he referred to me as 'little one'. However, I knew he didn't mean any harm by it. I shook his hand and returned his smile.

"My name is Garrett," he introduced himself. "And what might your name be?"

"I'm Violet," I replied, "Violet Khotler from the British Coven."

"Ah, the British Coven," Garrett tilted his head, "I must say, I wasn't a fan of the first British invasion, and the second one is even worse."

"I haven't been a vampire for very long," I admitted nervously, "so I'm not sure if I can fully understand."

Garrett smirked, "So, how long have you been a vampire?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "It's been a while."

"So, you're like a baby vampire then?" he teased.

I folded my arms, "I wouldn't say that. I'm seventeen."

"And I'm the President of the United States," Garrett quipped, causing me to chuckle. He joined in on the laughter, "I'm just kidding, of course. The Volturi would have my head if I were."

"Now that I agreed. How long have you been a vampire?"

"Around two hundred years," he answered. "I was born during the American Revolution, in New England. I willingly fought for the colonies' right to self-govern. I was what people would call a true believer in the American dream.

"I got transformed around 1780, during the war. I was transformed by accident in the aftermath of the battle. I was with an isolated group of ten soldiers when a vampire attacked us, knocking me unconscious. I woke up three days later as a fully-fledged vampire. I'm always curious and willing to investigate a mystery, and after my transformation, I strove to understand what had happened to me."

"And did you find out who did it?"

"No," Garrett shook his head, looking at the ground. "And it seems like I'll never know."

Then, he turned his head to me. "What about you? How did you get turned?"

"I ran away from home," I began. "Bunch of bikers showed up and a vampire named Victoria came out of nowhere and saved me from them." I sighed sadly. "Or I thought she was saving me."

"I got a feeling there's more to that."

"She made an army of newborns with one goal: to kill Bella." I turned my head to him. "Bella was human at the time. I don't recall the whole reason for it but it got something to do with Edward killing her mate."

Garrett nodded. "I understand. She lost her mate and she wants justice."

"I wouldn't say justice," I disagreed. "Revenge, yes. Then, the wolves showed up and killed the newborns. Except for me, unknowingly thanks to my invisibility."

"Hey, that's useful."

"Then, I saw the Volturi. Well, the Volturi guards to be precise." I clarified myself. "And after they left, Carlisle took me to the British Coven and they became my family ever since."

"At least your story got some kind of a happy ending," Garrett said and began to walk away. "Well, nice to meet you, kid. I'm going with Kate to hunt."

"Okay," I replied and he walked towards the Denali Coven.

As I scanned the room, my eyes landed on Bella. She was leaning against the wall, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her golden eyes were scanning the area, taking in every detail. I couldn't help but feel drawn to her, so I walked over and stood beside her.

"Hey," I said softly, causing her to turn her head towards me. "You okay?"

Bella let out a deep sigh before answering. "Well, aside from the Volturi coming to kill us and not knowing where Alice and Jasper are, I'm fine. At least for now."

My heart sank at her words, and I couldn't help but fidget with my sleeves. "Sorry I asked," I muttered.

"It's not your fault," she replied, her voice heavy with worry. "I wonder why Irina wanted to come this way before she discovered Renesmee."

"Maybe she wanted to make amends with you at the wedding," I suggested. "I mean, she did it with me, and I'm thinking it might have been the same reason."

Bella nodded thoughtfully, her eyes scanning the room once again. "I can't believe they all came to stand as witnesses."

"We're defending you all," I reminded her. "Especially Renesmee."

As I spoke those words, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. We were all here, standing together, ready to fight for what we believed in. And no matter what happened, we would do everything in our power to protect each other.

"Words cannot express the depth of our gratitude," Bella spoke with a hint of emotion in her voice. Her gaze shifted towards the red-eyed vampires, their thirst for human blood adding a layer of complexity to the situation. The nomads that Rosalie and Emmett sent were unpredictable, but it was Peter who had fought alongside Jasper as a newborn that made things even more challenging.

With a nod towards the cowboy-belt kid, Bella continued, "And then there's Jacob." Suddenly, a putrid scent filled the air, as if a dog had just taken a dip in a muddy lake. I turned my head to the right and saw Jacob approaching us, his presence almost unbearable.

"Jacob," I said, my nose wrinkling in disgust. "You're in dire need of a shower."

"I'm not that bad," Jacob chuckled, his carefree attitude not matching his pungent odour.

I turned to Bella, hoping she could confirm my olfactory distress. "You smell it too, right?"

Bella nodded, her nose scrunching up in agreement. "Yeah, Jake. You definitely need a shower."

I gestured towards her, relieved to have someone else on my side. "See? Even Bella agrees."

Jacob sighed, his eyes scanning the room filled with vampires. "There sure are a lot of red eyes around here."

I couldn't help but interject. "And golden eyes, don't forget about us."

I chuckled to myself, amused by my own joke. Jacob and Bella looked at me, perplexed by my sudden outburst.

"What's so funny?" Jacob asked, his confusion evident.

"I was just thinking of that Tina Turner song when I said 'golden eyes'," I admitted.

"You mean the James Bond movie?" Jacob asked, trying to keep up.

"Yeah, that one," I confirmed.

Bella's tone turned serious, interrupting our banter. "Jake, they agreed not to hunt in the area."

I noticed Amun's hateful glare towards Jacob, and I couldn't help but wonder if he knew what Jacob truly was.

Jacob shrugged, his nonchalant attitude returning. "They'll feed somewhere."

"How many of the Quileutes have been transformed?" Bella inquired, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Thus far, about seven," he responded, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty. "But I anticipate that number to increase soon."

My mind was reeling with confusion. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice trembling with bewilderment.

Jacob's eyes flickered with a fierce intensity as he began to explain the intricacies of their tribe's unique instinct called phasing. It was a power that was only activated when a member of their tribe encountered the scent of vampires and sensed the need for protection. There was no set age for the gene to activate, only the number of members required to counter the approaching vampires.

"We used to believe that only males could phase," Jacob continued, his voice tinged with surprise. "But then Leah Clearwater phased, and she's a direct descendant of the spirit chiefs."

My mind was blown. "So that means Seth...?" I trailed off, my eyes widening with excitement.

"Is also a direct descendant of the spirit chiefs," Jacob confirmed, his chest swelling with pride.

I couldn't help but feel envious of their rich heritage. "That sounds amazing," I murmured, my voice filled with longing. "I wish I knew my family tree."

Jacob's hand landed on my shoulder, his eyes filled with a sense of comfort. "You will someday," he assured me.

Suddenly, Jacob's face turned stern, and his gaze shifted to the side. "Make that the eighth one," he muttered before racing out of the house.

As Bella and Edward discussed the arrival of the last witness, I began to interview the cowboy Peter, eager to uncover the secrets of the nomads.

Peter was a wanderlust vampire, traversing the vast expanse of North America with his beloved mate, Charlotte. Theirs was a bond forged in the fires of passion and strengthened by the trials of nomadic life. It was during their time in the Mexican coven, under the leadership of the fearsome vampire Maria, that Peter met Jasper. The two became fast friends, brothers in arms, and their bond was unbreakable. Jasper's mate, Alice, was also drawn into their circle of trust, and the four of them were inseparable.

Peter's transformation occurred in the roaring twenties, a time of great change and upheaval. Charlotte followed suit five years later, her transformation a result of Maria's insatiable thirst for power. She was but a pawn in Maria's game, a mere tool to be used and discarded. But Peter would not stand for it. He and Jasper hatched a daring plan to rescue Charlotte from the clutches of the evil coven, and they succeeded. It was a turning point in their lives, a moment of triumph that would forever bind them together.

Years passed, and Jasper and Alice eventually parted ways with Peter and Charlotte. But fate had other plans for them. When the Volturi threatened the Cullens' very existence, Jasper knew that he had to act. He suggested that they seek out Peter and Charlotte, who could testify against the Volturi's accusations. And so it was that Alice and Jasper found their old friends and brought them to Forks.

The Cullens were wary of Peter and Charlotte at first, unsure of what to make of these two nomadic vampires. But as they learned more about their past and their struggles, they began to see them in a new light. Unlike the Denali coven, who had reacted with fear and hostility to Renesmee, the Cullens were more open-minded. They had never encountered an immortal child before, and they were willing to listen to Peter and Charlotte's testimony.

As I delved deeper into the mysterious world of the Cullens, I stumbled upon a fascinating tale of two nomads. The first, Mary, hailed from the rugged shores of Nova Scotia and underwent her transformation at the tender age of 28. Despite befriending the Cullen family, Mary's values on human life differed greatly from theirs, leading her to wander alone and rarely keep in touch with her acquaintances. It was only when Emmett and Rosalie sought her out and sent her to Forks, citing a family crisis, that Mary's path crossed with that of another nomadic vampire, Randall.

Randall, born in sunny California in 1945, was transformed in 1963 and had always considered Carlisle a close friend. Like Mary, he was summoned to Forks by the Cullens, with little explanation beyond the urgent need for his assistance. It was during his journey to the Cullen abode that Randall encountered Mary, and the two formed an unlikely bond as they made their way to the family's doorstep.

As I immersed myself in the details of their stories, my senses were suddenly heightened by the sound of footsteps echoing from the attic above. Intrigued, I made my way towards the source of the noise, eager to uncover the secrets that lay hidden within the walls of the Cullen house.

I ascended the stairs, my golden eyes scanning the room, searching for any sign of the intruder who had dared to enter the attic uninvited. My mind raced with the thought that perhaps the Volturi had sent someone to harm Renesmee. But I would not let that happen. I would protect her at all costs.

Suddenly, my gaze fell upon a thin string dangling from the square-shaped door. Without hesitation, I leapt up and grabbed hold of it, pulling it down with all my might. The door creaked open, revealing a ladder that carefully lowered to the ground. I climbed up, my movements silent and swift.

As I entered the attic, I activated my invisibility, blending seamlessly into the shadows. The room was filled with boxes, piled high and covered in a thick layer of dust. I moved slowly, cautiously, my senses on high alert.

And then I saw him. A figure standing among the boxes, his red eyes scanning the room with a sense of purpose. He was tall, at least six foot two, with blonde hair that fell to his neck and a beard that covered his pale face. He looked to be in his twenties, with a slender build and a sense of danger that hung about him like a cloak.

He wore a black leather trench coat, the fur on the collar and armholes worn and frayed. Underneath, he had on a dark grey hoodie, ripped and tattered, and a pair of dark jeans that hung loosely on his frame. His boots were scuffed and worn, and his hands were covered in fingerless woolly black gloves.

He reminded me of a homeless man, the kind you might see on the streets, but there was something about him that set him apart. Something that made my skin crawl and my heart race. I knew that he was here for a reason, and that reason was not a good one. But I would not let him harm Renesmee. Not on my watch.

He stood there, gazing out the window with a pensive expression etched on his face. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, a chaotic whirlwind of emotions that he couldn't seem to shake off. He let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Why did Carlisle have to drag me into this?" he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with sadness. He shook his head in disbelief, his eyes narrowing in frustration. "Some friend he turned out to be."

He wasn't supposed to be here, not in the attic, not with the Volturi. He wasn't one of them, he didn't belong here. And yet, here he was, trapped in this endless cycle of duty and obligation.

Suddenly, he turned his head towards me, his eyes blazing with confusion. He took a step forward, his movements slow and deliberate. He looked down at the ground, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

"The whole purpose of me being in the attic is to be alone," he said, his voice low and measured. "So why am I sensing I'm not alone?"

I froze, unsure of what to say. He was gifted, like Joseph, and I didn't know if he was speaking to me or if he was just talking to himself. Maybe it was best if I didn't answer him.

He moved back to the window and sat down, his eyes fixed on the horizon. I watched him for a moment, unsure of what to do. He was lost in his own thoughts, a prisoner of his own mind. And I couldn't help but wonder if he would ever find his way back.

"I never wanted to be here," he muttered under his breath, his words dripping with disdain.

The sound of his voice was like nails on a chalkboard to me. I could feel my anger rising, my blood boiling with fury. I couldn't stand the thought of someone so callous and indifferent in the face of danger.

Without a second thought, I shed my invisibility and marched towards him, my eyes blazing with fury. I could feel the heat of my anger radiating off of me like a furnace.

"What is wrong with you?!" I bellowed, my voice echoing through the empty room. The vampire jumped, startled by my sudden appearance. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, and I could see the red glow of his irises in the dim light.

"My friend's family is in danger, and all you can do is complain about being here?!" I continued, my voice rising with each word.

The vampire looked at me, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low and apologetic. "I just...I don't have much hope left."

I scoffed, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "That's no excuse," I spat. "You should be doing everything in your power to help us, not dragging us down with your negativity."

The vampire looked at me, his eyes flashing with anger. "You don't understand," he growled. "I've been on the run for centuries. I've seen things you couldn't even imagine. And now I'm on Aro's list. Do you have any idea what that means?"

I rolled my eyes, my patience wearing thin. "Of course I know what it means," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "The Volturi are dangerous. But that's no reason to give up hope."

The vampire glared at me, his lips curling into a sneer. "Don't joke about them," he warned.

I raised an eyebrow, my expression incredulous. "Am I laughing?" I asked.

The vampire smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Well, if the witch can," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I felt my anger flare up again, hotter than before. "Say that again," I hissed, my voice low and dangerous.

The vampire looked at me, his eyes widening in surprise. "If the witch can," he repeated, his voice taunting.

That was all it took. In an instant, my hair was floating around me like a halo of darkness, my eyes glowing with a fierce purple light. My fists clenched, crackling with energy.

And then I charged.

I lunged at him with the fury of a storm, my movements precise and powerful. He dodged my initial attack, slipping to the side with surprising agility. But I didn't relent. I pursued him relentlessly, our clash echoing through the attic as we grappled and exchanged blows.

He countered with speed and skill, blocking my strikes and launching his own in return. Each blow reverberated with force, shaking the boxes and rattling the dusty room. We were locked in a dance of combat, each of us pushing the other to the limit.

I managed to land a solid hit on his chest, knocking him back against a stack of boxes. But he recovered quickly, retaliating with a swift kick that grazed my side. The pain fueled my determination, and I pressed on with renewed vigor.

We circled each other, eyes locked in fierce determination. He lunged at me again, aiming for my throat, but I sidestepped and countered with a roundhouse kick to his ribs. He staggered but didn't falter, his resilience matching my own.

As our fight continued, the attic seemed to shrink around us, the air thick with tension and exertion. Neither of us would yield, both driven by our own motivations and histories. It was a battle not just of strength, but of wills.

In a sudden burst of energy, I seized an opening and tackled him to the ground, pinning him beneath me. His struggles were futile against my grip, and I held him down with a firm resolve.

"Take it back! TAKE IT BACK!" I demanded, my voice echoing through the attic.

He grunted in defiance, his eyes blazing with defiance. "Don't think just 'cause you're a girl, I'm gonna take it easy on you!"

I pressed my advantage, locking his arms behind his back with unyielding force. He winced in pain, but I didn't relent. I had to make him understand the gravity of his words, the impact they had on our precarious situation.

The struggle continued, a battle of strength and endurance in the dimly lit attic. Our conflict mirrored the larger tensions brewing beyond these walls, each of us a microcosm of the forces at play in our world of shadows and secrets.

Then, I felt someone pulling me back, away from him. Looking up, I briefly saw Ingram's face, realized he was the one holding me. And weirdly, I didn't feel as much anger as I had a few minutes ago. Instead, it made me feel comforted. His presence, strong and steady, was a stark contrast to the chaos I had just been enveloped in. It felt as if a wave of calm had washed over me, cooling the fiery rage that had been consuming me.

"Violet!" Simon's voice cut through the air, sharp and clear, and I raised my head to see him looking at me with concern etched into his features. But I didn't think it was for me. "Why are you attacking Alistair?" His voice held a mix of confusion and disapproval, making me pause.

I glared at Simon for a second, my eyes blazing with residual anger, before turning my attention back to the nomad who had been named Alistair. I removed myself from him, my body trembling with adrenaline, and felt the tension drain slightly as I stepped away.

"Hi, Simon," Alistair said with a groan, pushing himself up from the floor and dusting off his clothes. "Long time no see." His casual demeanor seemed out of place given the intensity of the moment.

As he got up from the floor, I spotted Gabriel, Joseph, and Carlisle coming up the stairs. Their arrival brought a renewed sense of urgency and clarity to my racing mind as I remembered Simon's story about how he became a vampire. And then, I remembered the name of the vampire who turned him.

That was Alistair. The realization hit me like a cold splash of water, and a fresh wave of confusion and anger washed over me.

"Alistair, Violet," Carlisle greeted us calmly, strolling towards our direction with his usual composed demeanor. "What's the commotion? What's the matter?" His voice was soothing, a beacon of stability in the storm of emotions.

"I sensed some wild energy up there," Joseph chimed in, pointing to the attic, his expression a mix of curiosity and mild amusement.

"She nearly took me out," Alistair retorted, rubbing his neck and giving me a look that was somewhere between annoyance and grudging respect.

"Oh, come on," I interjected, rolling my eyes. "I didn't almost kill you. It was just a heated disagreement." My words came out more defensively than I intended, but I couldn't help it.

"Why were you both up there?" Ingram inquired, although his question was more for me than it was for him.

"You know me, Ingram," Alistair replied with a sigh. "I prefer solitude." His tone was weary, as if he had explained this many times before.

So Alistair and Ingram knew each other? And Simon, too? Well, that made sense since Simon was part of the coven and, meeting with the other nomads, Ingram was one of them too. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together, but it only raised more questions. Gabriel turned to me, his gaze expectant.

"I heard his footsteps and thought he was a Volturi guard," I explained, gesturing to the nomad. "And he called me a witch, so I had to defend myself." My voice was steady, but inside, I was still simmering.

"I didn't call you a witch," Alistair conceded, his tone softer. "I said 'if the witch fits.'" His attempt at humor fell flat, but it took the edge off my anger slightly.

My right hand glowed again, a sign of my lingering agitation, and Ingram was still holding me, easing my tension. His touch was a grounding force, reminding me that I was not alone.

"I can't believe you got your butt kicked," Joseph chuckled, shaking his head and glancing at the nomad with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. His light-hearted comment broke the tension further, and I found myself almost smiling.

"Come meet everyone, Alistair," Simon invited warmly, extending a hand of reconciliation.

Alistair shook his head, his expression serious. "If it comes down to a fight, I won't stand against the Volturi." Then, his crimson eyes locked onto mine with a fierce intensity. "But she will." His words were heavy with implication, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

Ayla's voice echoed in my mind, filled with anxiety. "But what if they come for us anyway? What if we have to fight?" Her concern mirrored my own fears.

"It won't come to that," Carlisle reassured him, his voice steady and calm. His confidence was reassuring, but I couldn't shake the unease that lingered in the back of my mind.

"I'll stay in the attic," Alistair muttered, retreating to his preferred solitude.

They watched as Alistair leaped up into the attic and shut the door behind him, his departure leaving a palpable silence in his wake.

"He's not much of a people person," Simon explained, his tone apologetic as if he felt responsible for Alistair's abruptness.

"I gathered that," I replied, my voice dry as we descended the stairs, leaving Alistair to his solitude in the Cullens' attic.

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